Episode 89: Baekje and Yamato on the Rocks

July 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

A golden animal head umbrella finial, found on Okinoshima island, and dated to the 6th century. These kinds of things were coming across the straits, and there was clearly a robust trade network, even if every mission wasn’t mentioned in the Chronicles somewhere. Photo by author, at the Munakata Taisha Shinpokan; the museum of their holy treasures, including those found on the islands at the other connected shrines.

This episode we look at some of the other goings-on during the reign of Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto—especially as regards some of the cross-strait relations with Silla and Baekje, largely revolving around the status of the state of Nimna.

Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

The current sovereign, son of Ame Kunioshi—we are told he was not a Buddhist, but he did enjoy continental literature.

Nichira

Aka Nila or Illa (日羅), a name made up of the first character from “Nihon” (日本) and the last character of Silla (新羅). Later stories claim he was a holy Buddhist monk, although I don’t know if I’m aware of many monks at this point donning armor to visit royalty or suggesting that countries wipe out boats filled with men, women, and children.

(More as we get a chance to update)

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 89: Baekje and Yamato on the Rocks
Last episode we covered the continued rise of Buddhism. From the enigmatic Prince Ohowake, and his importation of experts and texts to found a temple in the Naniwa region, to the more well-documented case of Soga no Umako, who continued his father’s efforts to establish a temple at their home in the Asuka area, going so far as to have three women inducted as nuns—the first clergy we know of to have been ordained in the archipelago, even though it may have been less than perfectly orthodox in the manner of ceremony. We also talked about how a coalition of other court nobles, led by the Mononobe family, were undermining the Soga and accused their new-fangled religious ideas of bringing plague to the people—plague that, even though the Soga’s temple was destroyed to prevent it, nonetheless took the life of the sovereign, Nunakura Fotadamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou.
And for many, that’s probably the highlight of this reign, which was deeply involved in the spread of Buddhism, as well as providing the roots of the conflict between the old guard of the Mononobe and the newly risen Soga family. However, it isn’t as if that is all that was happening. There were continued international developments, among other things, and these were intertwined with everything else—nothing was happening in a vacuum. For example, the country of Baekje was the source of many of the early Buddhist texts and professionals, with Buddhist gifts becoming a part of the “tributary diplomacy” that is depicted in the Chronicles at this time. Whereas earlier diplomatic gifts may have included bronze mirrors, many embossed with figures such as the Queen Mother of the West, in the 6th century Buddhist icons and imagery seem to hold a similar currency.
I’d also note that giving Buddhist images and texts as gifts or tribute held an added layer of meaning, at least from a Buddhist interpretation. After all, not only were you providing prestige goods, which then helped boost the status of one’s diplomatic partners, but it also earned merit for the person gifting such things, as they were then able to make the claim that they were helping to spread the teachings of the Buddha. This provided an appeal to such gifts on multiple levels, both within and without the growing Buddhist world.
At the same time that Baekje and Yamato continued to advance their ties, Silla continued to grow. Since absorbing the states of Kara, or Gaya, including the Yamato-allied state of Nimna, Silla had grown and was consolidating its power. Silla itself had started out as a coalition of six city-state-like polities that came together in a union. They were one of the main targets of early Yamato aggressions on the Korean peninsula, with numerous discussions of raids by “Wa” sailors, though little is typically seen of the reverse. The Chronicles make the claim that early Silla was a subordinate tributary state of Yamato, which modern historians regard as little more than fiction—likely part of the propaganda campaign of the Yamato court attempting to place themselves in the superior position. Still, it does seem reasonable that prior to the 6th century Silla had remained a relatively minor state, occasionally allying with—or against—the states of Baekje and Goguryeo, as well as the other independent polities that were once present but have largely been obscured by the uncertain mists of the past. The fact that they survived as long as they did, and thus had so much written material, speaks to why they loom so much larger in the early histories, but such things are always hard to judge when all of your material basically comes from the quote-unquote “winners”, historically speaking. Just think how, if Kibi or Tsukushi, or even Izumo had become the dominant polity in Japan, our Chronicles would focus much more on what happened there rather than just covering what was happening in the Nara basin and adjacent Kawachi plain all the time.
And then there is the state of Goryeo, known to us today as Goguryeo, or Old Goreyo—in many ways the granddame of the Three Kingdoms of ancient Korea, with the greatest claim to the territory of ancient Gojoseon and Buyeo culture. Back in Episode 86 we saw a few of their attempts at diplomatic relations with Yamato landing along the Japan Sea side of Honshu—possibly a side effect of the path they were taking, sailing down along the eastern coast of the Korean peninsula, rather than via the Bohai Sea in the west. This may also have been indicative of the relatively friendly relations between Goguryeo and the expanding state of Silla.
Silla also offered up a normalization of relations, though it was met with mixed results—and even those mixed results are, well, mixed in terms of just what was really happening versus what was being projected back by Chroniclers writing a century or two later. Back in the previous reign, that of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, Silla envoys had also been received some time after their conquest of Nimna, and the Chronicles, at least, indicate that Yamato was less than enthusiastic to receive them, indicating that tensions remained high, and Ame Kunioshi took every opportunity to admonish Silla and to request that Nimna be reestablished as an independent entity, or so we are told.
Similarly, in the 11th month of 574, Silla sent another embassy, but we have very little information on it—given the timing it may have been intended to express their condolences on the death of Ame Kunioshi and their congratulations to Nunakura for ascending to the throne. About four months later, in 575, Baekje also sent an embassy, and we are told that this one sent more “tribute” than normal, possibly as a congratulations to Nunakura and an attempt to strengthen the Baekje-Yamato alliance. There may have also been a request for more specific assistance, since Nunakura apparently took the time to remind the Imperial Princes, as well as the new Oho-omi, Soga no Umako, to remain diligent regarding the matter of Nimna. As Aston translates it, he specifically said “Be not remiss in the matter of Imna”. Yamato was still apparently displeased with the fact that Nimna, which was once an ally, was now under Silla control.
Following that, the Yamato court sent their own envoys to Baekje and then Silla—though specifically they sent the embassy to Silla controlled Nimna, according to the Chronicles. A couple of months later, Silla sent an embassy back, including more tribute than normal, though the only hint of why, beyond the previous mention of Nimna, is that Silla was including tribute for four more townships, which seems kind of a weird flex, but may have been an indication of their growth, as well as a diplomatic notification that these four areas were part of what Silla now considered their territory.
The full reasons Baekje and Silla sent more tribute than normal are unclear; it could have been part of a recognition of Nunakura’s coronation and an attempt to butter up the new administration. It is possible that both Baekje and Silla were vying for Yamato favoritism, as well. Silla may also have been trying to basically pay off Yamato and get them to forget the whole thing with Nimna—something that, as we shall see, was not going to happen quickly.
Yamato sent another mission to Baekje in 577, two years later. This was the mission of Ohowake no Miko and Woguro no Kishi to Baekje, from which Ohowake brought back various accoutrements and set up a temple in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. We discussed this, as well as our ignorance over the actual person of Ohowake no Miko, in our last episode, episode 88. It is interesting, however, if Ohowake no Miko was the actual individual who went to Baekje—mostly we see lower ranking men; those from Kishi level families, or similar. Occasionally a “muraji” or “omi” level family sends someone, particularly at the head of a military force, but not so often do we see a prince of the blood making the dangerous journey across the seas. I have to assume that this was an important mission, and that seems to have been borne out when you consider just what was brought back. Despite all of that, the details are frustratingly vague—worse than trying to find and put together the oldest episodes of Dr. Who and the First Doctor.
We do know that the whole trip took about six months, which gives a sense of what it meant to undertake one of these journeys. Most of that would have been living at the distant court. They didn’t have phones, let alone email, so they couldn’t really send word ahead with exact details—although there may have been informal communication networks via the many fishermen who regularly worked the straits. More likely, an embassy would simply show up in a boat one day and start asking the locals to “take me to your leader”.
Once you got there, they hopefully had room for you—they might even have a special location for you and your entourage to stay while they went through the formalities. After all, someone had to get you on the schedule, and any diplomatic gifts… ahem, “tribute”… should be catalogued and written down before the meeting. That way the host country could figure out just what they were going to reciprocate with. There is also possible training in any local ceremony and customs as you couldn’t assume that foreign dignitaries necessarily know what is expected. And then there would be the translating, likely through a shared language, possibly Sinic characters if everyone is literate.
Also, during that time, the mission would probably have been hosting guests or being invited out by some of the local elites. They were both guests and curiosities. And there might have been some personal trading and bartering going on off to the side—after all, you have to pay the bills somehow, and as long as nothing eclipsed the diplomatic mission, then I suspect there were some other “trade goods” that these ambassadors brought to help barter with locals and ensure they could bring back various goods and souvenirs.
In some cases, and it is unclear if it was by choice or not, ambassadors might be invited to stay longer, even settle down with a local wife and family. There are several examples of this that we see in the Chronicles, so it wasn’t all that rare.
So that was the mission from Yamato to Baekje. The next mission from Silla came in 579, some four years later, and we are told they brought “tribute” that included a Buddhist image. And then, only a year after that we have another mission, but it was dismissed before it could ever be received.
And that is a bit odd. Why would Yamato not receive the embassy? We aren’t given a reason, and it is pretty short, all things considered. We do know the names of the envoys. Indeed, the same two envoys: Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama tried again two years later, but they were again dismissed, without accepting the tribute. This is all quite odd, but it does go to show the fickle nature of foreign relations.
One possibility may have to do with the way that “tribute diplomacy” appears to have worked. We know that in the case of the Han, Wei, and even the Tang and later dynasties, states were encouraged to come as tributaries, bringing goods as part of their diplomatic embassy, and then the receiving state was expected to provide items of even greater value in return. In the 16th century, various daimyo, or Japanese warlords, would use this to their advantage, representing themselves as legitimate emissaries in order to get the Ming dynasty court to give them even greater gifts in return. As multiple embassies showed up, all claiming to be the Japanese representatives, the Ming court started a policy of only accepting the first one that came, as they had no way to tell who was the legitimate ruler during the chaos of the Warring States period.
I bring that up because I notice that the first mission by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama took place only 8 months or so after the one in 579, which brought the Buddhist image. Given the typical time between embassies, that seems very short, and it seems quite possible that the Yamato court didn’t believe that the embassy was real, and that it was too soon after the previous one. Or it could even have been even more mundane—it is possible the court didn’t have the stores to pay out against the tribute, though that isn’t the reason that they would have given for turning them away. After all, it was not exactly a safe journey to cross the ocean and make your way to Japan. Whether you hopped down the island chain or took a more direct route, using the island of Okinoshima as a guide post in the middle of the strait, it was not particularly easy and many embassies never made it across or back.
I suspect, however, that there was something else going on, and that is in part because it seems to be the same two individuals coming back two years later, and they were once again turned away. It is possible that Nunakura and the Yamato court had a specific beef with these two individuals, but in that case they probably would have sent word to Silla to tell them to send someone else. This probably is indicative of the growing tensions between Yamato and Silla. From a narrative sense, it would make sense for Yamato to accept envoys just after a new sovereign came to power. It would help legitimize the sovereign, and it also offers a chance to reset and reestablish the relationship. The second envoy, bringing a Buddhist image, would certainly be something that the Chroniclers would find historically interesting and would bolster their own thoughts about the rising importance of Buddhism in the period. However, as we see in an episode from 583, Nunakura was still concerned about trying to re-establish Nimna. I suspect that this may have been a condition the Yamato court placed on Silla and the envoys, and it is possible that they weren’t willing to discuss anything without at least discussing that.
Or perhaps that is at least the impression the Chroniclers wish to give. They are still referring to it as “Mimana” or “Mimana no Nihonfu”, making claims that it was the Yamato government’s outpost on the peninsula, and therefore something of a personal blow to the Yamato court for it to have been overrun. Trying to re-establish Nimna would become something of a rallying cry; think of it like “Remember the Alamo” or “Remember the Maine”; regardless of the truth behind either incident, they were both used as justifications for war at the time. The case of Mimana was used to justify Yamato actions on the peninsula, and it would continue to be brought back up until modern times, including helping to justify Japan’s invasion of Korea in the early 20th century.
Here I’ll interject with the possibility that there could also have been some internal issues that the court was dealing with. Specifically, in between these two missions by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama, there was a bit of a disruption on the northeastern frontier, as the people known to the court as the Emishi rose up in rebellion. We aren’t given the details, but we are told that several thousand Emishi “showed hostility”. The Chronicle then claims that the sovereign simply summoned the leaders, including a chief named Ayakasu, who may have been a chief of chiefs, and then reamed them out, suggesting that he would put the leaders—i.e. Ayakasu and the other chieftains—to death. Of course, the rebellious chieftains immediately had a change of heart and pledged an oath to support Yamato.
Much more likely, I suspect, there was rising tension and hostility in the frontier regions, and Yamato likely had to raise a force to go face them. Assuming that was the case, it would have taken time to travel out there, subdue any uprising, and then drag the leaders back to the court to make of them an example to others. If that was the case, then it may have been that Yamato simply did not feel they had the time to deal with Ato Nama and his crew.
For a bit clearer reference, from the 8th through 11th years of the reign, there are simply relatively short entries. So in 579 there is the mission of ChilCheulchong Nama, who brought the Buddhist image. Then, in 580, we have Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama attempt to offer tribute. Then, in 581, there is a rebellion of the Emishi, followed, in 582, by another attempt by Ato Nama and Chilsyo Nama to offer tribute. That’s about all that we have to go on.
In any case, though, we have a very clear indication in 583, only 9 months after again refusing the tribute from Ato Nama and crew, that Nimna was once again on the Court’s mind. Nunakura apparently went on a rant about how Silla had destroyed Nimna back in the days of his father, Ame Kunioshi. Nunakura claimed he wanted to continue his father’s work, but it was unclear just where to get started.
And so they decided to consult an expert. His name appears to have been something like Nichira—possibly something like Nila, depending on the pronunciation of the Sinic characters, or Illa in modern Korean, which is Aston’s preferred reading. It is said that he is the son of “Arishito” or “Arisateung”, the “Kuni no Miyatsuko”, or local ruler, of Ashikita, in the land of Hi, in Kyushu, and that he lived in Baekje, holding the rank of “Talsol”, the second official rank in the Baekje court. Ashikita was mentioned as far back as Episode 33, during the reign of Oho Tarashi Hiko, aka Keikou Tennou, as he was trying to subdue the Kumaso, and was likely a later addition to Yamato’s sphere of influence.
Nichira only makes a brief appearance here in the Nihon Shoki, but he is something of an enigma. He is presented as a citizen of Yamato, but his name appears to be from the Korean peninsula and even his father’s name hearkens back to another Arishito, who may have been the king of Kara or one of the associated polities. And yet here, this Arishito is the local ruler in Ashikita, in the land of Hi—later divided into Hizen and Higo. Given that he is referenced as “Hi no Ashikita no Kuni no Miyatsuko” this has been suggested as indicating that he was a member of the “Hi no Kimi”, the family that descended from the Lords of Hi. And this may connect to something later in the story.
There do appear to be some later documents that reference Nichira. Some claim that he was a Buddhist priest, and he’s even connected with the famous Shotoku Taishi in some stories, where he is depicted as a wise priest who recognizes Shotoku Taishi’s own Buddha nature. Of course, at this point, the prince would only have been about 10 years old, assuming the dates around his birth are at all accurate—a subject we’ll save for a later podcast, as there is just so much around Shotoku Taishi to cover.
As for the current story, however: Nichira was over in Baekje, at the court of the Baekje king, and so it wasn’t just a small matter of asking him to come to court. Ki no Kuni no Miyatsuko no Oshikatsu and Kibi no Amabe no Atahe no Hashima were sent on the dangerous mission of crossing the straits and bringing him back from Baekje. Their mission was for naught, however. Three months later they returned, empty-handed, with the unfortunate news that the king of Baekje had refused to let Nichira leave. Apparently his presence in Baekje was highly prized, and the Baekje king wasn’t willing to part with him so easily.
Yamato wasn’t deterred, however, and Nunakura sent Hashima back to Baekje. This time, Hashima went straight to Nichira’s house before any audiences at court. When he arrived, he heard a woman calling out in the local language a phrase which Aston found salty enough to throw into Latin: “Let your root enter my root!” Despite the implied sexual innuendo of such a statement, Hashima quickly understood what she meant and he followed her inside. She led him to Nichira, and there Hashima was asked to take a seat.
Nichira acknowledged that the Baekje king was not likely to let him go if he had a choice. The King was likely afraid that if Nichira went to Yamato then he’d never be allowed to return back to Baekje. Therefore, Hashima had to summon all of the authority vested in him by the sovereign of Yamato to demand Nichira’s release in no uncertain terms.
Sure enough, Hashima took the bold approach and demanded Nichira’s release, and the King of Baekje finally relented and allowed him to return. He wouldn’t go alone, however. Nichira was accompanied by other high officials from Baekje, including several men of the 3rd and 4th ranks, and a number of sailors to transport them.
They first arrived in the land of Kibi, Hashima’s own home base, and then headed on to Naniwa, where Nichira was greated by Ohotomo no Nukadeko no Muraji, likely a descendent of Ohotomo no Kanamura, the former top dog in the Yamato court. He offered Nichira condolences for the long trip he’d had to endure, and set him up in an official residence there in the port city.
Later there were daibu—high officials—who were sent to the residence to attend on Nichira.
After he’d had time to freshen up, Nichira headed off to the court. When he drew near, he donned a suit of armor and mounted a horse, and in such a fashion he rode right up to the Audience Hall of the sovereign. There he bowed before kneeling down. He then recounted how his forefathers had been sent to the Korean Peninsula up in the first place back in the reign of Senka Tennou, aka Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, in the early part of the 6th century. After explaining who he was and where he came from, he took off the armor and offered it as a gift to the sovereign himself.
Off to such a great start, the sovereign had a residence constructed for Nichira in the area of Kuwanoichi, in Ato—likely meaning an area of modern Ohosaka, near Naniwa. Later, with all of the ritual pleasantries out of the way, a war council was sent to ask Nichira just how they could move forward on the question of Nimna. This war council included Abe no Me no Omi, Mononobe no Niheko no Muraji, and Ohotomo no Nukadeko no Muraji.
Nichira provided them a plan to go to war, but it wasn’t simple nor was it quick. First he suggested that they spend the first three years building up the prosperity of Yamato, and getting all of the people behind the government. Next, he suggested building up a massive number of ships, such at that any visitors would be impressed to see them all in the harbor, and thus word would get out and it would project Yamato’s military power.
Finally, once that was done, Nichira suggested inviting the King of Baekje—or at least a royal representative in the form of a high prince or similar—be invited to Yamato, where they would see all of the power and good governance. They could then be taken to task for why Nimna had not yet been reestablished.
After the war council, Nichira sent a letter to the sovereign, Nunakura. In it he let Nunakura know that Baekje was going to send a request to relocate 300 ships worth of people to Tsukushi to settle there. Here things turned rather dark as Nichira suggested that they would see the ships filled with men, women, and children hoping to establish a Baekje colony in the archipelago. Nichira suggested setting up an ambush around Iki and Tsushima and that they should slaughter everyone. Then Yamato should build up fortifications of their own—probably as coastal defenses in case Baekje decided to retaliate.
And here I’m going to interject that this seems just really odd and strange. First, Nichira and Nunakura were talking about trying to reestablish Nimna with their ally, Baekje, and suddenly Nichira is suggesting that Baekje might try to establish a colony in their territory, and therefore it should be wiped out. That all feels very extreme, and this whole passage has puzzled commenters, especially when you consider the reputation Nichira later has as some kind of holy priest or monk.
Apparently this was the kind of advice, though, that may have been why Baekje did not want Nichira to come back in the first place. In fact, as the Baekje envoys themselves began to head out to return to Baekje, they left a couple of people in Yamato with a sinister plot of their own: as soon as the ships had sailed off and made considerable distance on the way back home, those left behind were to assassinate Nichira. In return, they were told that they would be given a higher rank and that their families would be looked after, in the very real possibility that they found out and killed themselves. A not insubstantial promise at the time.
With the official residence in Naniwa vacated after the departure of the rest of the Baekje delegation, Nichira decided to move back in, rather than staying in the home made for him in Kuwanoichi. The would-be assassins tried to approach him, and hatched plot after plot. However, they were stopped because apparently Nichira had some ancient superpowers. Indeed, his body apparently glowed brightly, like a flame of fire, and so the assassins could not get anywhere near him. They had to wait until the end of the 12th month, when Nichira’s own radiance faded, and they were then able to slay him.
This whole thing about radiance is intriguing, and may have several origins such that even if it isn’t factually accurate, it may have something more to say about just who Nichira was or might have been.
First off, there is the obvious. “Nichi”, in “Nichira”, means the “sun”, and so it could have been a direct allusion to Nichira’s name. This strikes me as also intriguing because the 12th month indicates the end of the year, usually meaning that it is darker. While the Winter Solstice would not have necessarily been in the old twelfth lunar month, those would have been the days when the suns light was least seen. Add to this that it was at the end of the month, and based on a lunar calendar, the end and beginning of the month would have been the times of the new moon, when it was not visible in the sky. And so we come to what most likely was the darkest night of the entire year.
There is also the fact that he is from Hi no Kuni—he is even considered a member of the ruling family of the land of Hi. The character of “Hi” in this instance is fire. Michaeol Como notes that the Hi no Kimi appear to have been associated with fire cults, as well as with rites of resurrection. “Hi no Kimi” could also be translated as “fire lord”. There may be some connection there with the story.
Finally, we can’t ignore the Buddhist context. Holy individuals are often said to radiate light from their bodies. For example, we have the story about Nichira meeting the young child that would be known as Shotoku Taishi, found in the Konjaku Monogatari, or “Tales of Now and Then”, a 12th century collection of various stories, many focused on Buddhist stories. In that story, Nichira radiates a light and the Shotoku radiates a light of his own in response. In fact, Buddhist images often depict holy figures with halos, or even wreathes of flames around them, likely a depiction or literal interpretation of what we find in the Buddhist texts, which may have originally been meant more metaphorically.
Oh, and notice how I talked about resurrection? Maybe you thought we’d just let that one slide. Well, apparently there was a brief zombie moment, as Nichira suddenly came back to life after he had been killed just to implicate the men from Baekje who had stayed back, and then he died again. Supposedly this is because there was a Silla envoy in port, and he didn’t want them to take the blame.
That resurrection piece, well, it isn’t the first time we’ve seen that, and it isn’t entirely uncommon to hear about something along those lines. In the Harima Fudoki there is another story of resurrection, and it involves a member of the “Hi no Kimi”, or lords of Hi. In that story, a member of the Hi no Kimi came to a center of Silla immigrants and married a young woman whom he had brought back from the dead. Another connection between the country of Hi and some of what we see attributed to Nichira.
At the same time, Saints in ancient England would occasionally rise from their deathbeds for one last piece of wisdom or to admonish someone before laying back down into that sleep of death. At the same time, it is possible that diagnosing death, versus, say, a coma or other unconscious state with very shallow breathing, wasn’t always a clear thing. In the west, as recently as at least Victorian times people were so afraid of being buried alive that there were tombstones created with bells that went to a pull down in the coffin, just in case. There have also been practices of pricking a corpse with a needle or similar to try to get a response. So I could believe that every once in a while a person who was declared deceased wasn’t quite ready to start pushing up daisies, and it is possible that this is more of a deathbed accusation than any kind of resurrection.
Still, the story clearly depicts it as a brief, but true resurrection. From his words, the court arrested the envoys who had remained behind and threw them into some kind of confinement while they figured out what to do with them. Nichira’s wife and children were moved to Kudaramura, or “Baekje Village”, in the area of Ishikawa, while the sailors who had been part of Nichira’s household were settled in nearby Ohotomo no mura. It is unclear if they were given leave to return to Baekje if they wanted, or if that was even on the table.
As for the murderers themselves, they weren’t punished by the Court. Rather the court handed them over to Nichira’s family, the Ashikita, for them to deliver justice. I believe this is the first time we’ve really seen this kind of justice in the Chronicles, with the familial groups taking such a direct role.
Now why is this story important, and what does it tell us?
Well, nominally, this says something about the continuing struggle by Yamato to reestablish Nimna, but I’m not sure how much of that is accurate. Though the story starts out about consulting Nichira about Nimna, there is nothing more to say on that topic, and it quickly becomes something that is almost more about the seemingly fragile Baekje-Yamato alliance.
There is also an interesting side note that through all of this there were apparently Silla emissaries there in Yamato, even though the Chronicle claims that the last two were sent away, so what’s up with that? It could be that the story is anachronistic—that is, it isn’t recorded in the right year. Or there was a mission that just didn’t rise to the level of being noticed by the Chroniclers. One other thought is that the formal diplomatic ties were only some of the traffic flowing back and forth. This seems the most likely, to me. By this point there was no doubt a desire for trade goods on both sides of the strait, and no matter where people came from, the merchant ships were likely plying the waters back and forth. So it is quite possible that the men of Silla who were in port were part of a trade mission, not necessarily diplomats.
Michael Como suggests some other reasons why this whole thing was considered important. He notes that there are several things here that connect this to the Abe family. It is unclear where this family comes from, but they have been mentioned here or there throughout the Chronicles, and by this point are at least are fairly high up in the court. Their name is a bit of an enigma for me, and I’ll have to do more research. I just want to note that they use a different “Be” than the Mononobe or similarly created corporate families. It is unclear to me why this would be the case, unless this is just where the two seem similar.
It should be noted that we should be careful not to assume too much about this early Abe family from one of its most famous Heian era descendants, Abe no Seimei, known as a famous Onmyoji, or master of Yin-Yang divination. I’m not entirely sure that the Abe were any more or less court ritualists than any other family, especially this early. Rather, it is their influence over certain geographic regions that is more immediately of interest.
We noted that as the son of a “Hi no Ashikita no Kuni no Miyatsuko”, Nichira was likely a member of the Hi no Kimi clan. They were originally based in southern Kyushu, and Como notes that they may have been under the sway of the Abe clan, at least by the 7th century, along with other notable families of Tsukushi, which is to say, modern Kyushu.
There are a lot of connections between Ashikita, Hi, and Silla that are telling. In the Harima story, it is a Silla wife that the Hi no Kimi marries. When Nichira resurrects, it is specifically to ensure that the Silla envoys who were present would not take the blame. Then there is his father’s name—or more likely title—of Arishito. A term seen used for the King of Nimna at one point, but also for the ancient Tsunoga, who is said to have been an ancient prince from the continent. Como suggests that Hi no Kuni—and thus their lords, the Hi no Kimi, may have played a part in the rebellion of Iwai, when Iwai attempted to ally Kyushu with Silla to break off contact between Yamato and Baekje. It is even possible that this was one of the reasons that Nichira was basically being held hostage in Baekje—perhaps he and his family had been exiled after the rebellion, or else left before any harm could come to them.
It would make some sense as to why the court sought him out in the first place. If he and his family were familiar with Silla, perhaps the court thought he would have particular insights. It might also suggest some of his motives regarding Baekje as well. Still, the picture is far from clear.
Although the Chronicle says that Nichira was taken back to Ashikita and buried, other sources suggest that he was entombed in Naniwa at Himejima, near Himegoso shrine. This, in turn, was the home of a sub-lineage of the Abe family, known as the Himegoso Abe. Como suggests that by the 7th century, the Abe were appropriating various Hi no Kimi cultic centers, to the point that by the time the Chronicles were written, the Abe no Omi and the Hi no Kimi were claiming common ancestry and jointly participating in various rites.
Como then links the timing of the death of Nichira to certain court rituals of fire pacification and purification. And so there may have been much more at play here than simply the story of Nimna and the attempts to reestablish that country.
As for the envoys who sailed off and left their lackeys to do their bidding? Apparently they were struck with a bout of karma on the way back, and their boat foundered and sank. This was likely seen as proof that their deeds had been committed with evil intent, at least by later readers, interpreting everything through a Buddhist lens that likely saw Nichira as more saintly than it seems he truly was.
After all of that, though, there is no evidence that the court really pulled it off. Instead, in 584, the year after everything had gone down with Nichira, the court sent Naniwa no Kishi no Kitahiko off to Nimna, now controlled by Silla, presumably to negotiate for some kind of reinstatement. That doesn’t appear to have happened, however, and the year after that, in 585, there was one more attempt, this time by Sakata no Mimiko no Miko. Sakata had previously been sent on a mission to request Silla reestablish Nimna in 571, only months before the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, died. Now, as he was about to set out, the sovereign and the powerful Mononobe no Moriya came down with a pestilence, and were ridden with sores, such that they called off preparations for the mission. And sure enough, later that year, Ame Kunioshi’s successor, Nunakura Futadamashiki, likewise passed away.
I guess the rule here is don’t send Sakada no Mimiko to try to demand anything about Silla.
Of course, I have to also wonder if there wasn’t something else going on. It’s suspicious that the Chroniclers recorded two missions to Silla, both led by the same guy, both about reestablishing Nimna, and both happening just before the Sovereign passed away. Maybe history really repeated itself like this, or maybe the Chroniclers just knew that such a mission was sent in the last year of one of these reigns, and then put it in bothAnd we don’t hear anything more about Mimiko after that, either.
We also don’t hear anything else about the unfortunate envoy, Sakada no Mimiko, either. The other interesting thing to note is that, like Ohowake no Miko, Mimiko is a certified royal prince, though I don’t see any immediate name to connect him with, at least in the immediate lineage. It has been suggested that this is one of the sons of Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, though even that feels tenuous to me.
Either way, both he and Nunakura, as we noted last episode, passed away from the disease sweeping the land.
And that concludes the reign of Nunakura. Next, we’ll get into what happened after his death as we start to see the Soga influence become pre-eminent. There is more to say about the growth of Buddhism and about the clash between the Soga and the Mononobe, one of the formative conflicts from this early period. And of course, we’ve already caught glimpses of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, who had quite the impact on the court—assuming he even existed. But that’s a discussion for another episode.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Dykstra, Yoshiko Kurata (tr.) (2014). Buddhist Tales of India, China, and Japan: A Complete Translation of the Konjaku Monogatarishū. Japanese section. United States: Kanji Press. ISBN-978-0-91-788008-7
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 88: Let’s Give This Buddhism Thing Another Try

June 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Drawing by Kikuchi Yosai (1788-1878) of Mononobe no Yuge no Moriya, here shown with a mino, or straw raincoat, over his court finery. While the depiction is somewhat fanciful, it hearkens to the story in the Nihon Shoki from this reign of Moriya’s confrontation with Soga no Umako. Image is in the public domain, found on Wikimedia Commons.

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This episode we look at the continued spread of Buddhism in the archipelago.

Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

The current sovereign, son of Ame Kunioshi—we are told he was not a Buddhist, but he did enjoy continental literature.

Ōwake no Miko

An enigmatic figure—possibly one of the later sovereigns, but it isn’t clear. The name (大別王) doesn’t provide a lot of clues to go on, and yet he appears to be one of the early importers of Buddhism, bringing books and specialists. Some later sources claim that he brought over 2,000 books back from Baekje.

Soga no Umako no Sukune no Ōmi

The son of Soga no Iname, who took his father’s place at the head of the Soga clan and as the Ōmi in the court. He would push for Buddhism when nobody else would, and he was not as easily deterred as his father had been.

Mononobe no Yuge no Moriya no Ōmuraji

Son of Mononobe no Okoshi, the previous Ōmuraji of the Mononobe, the Nihon Shoki claims he was made Ōmuraji during this reign, though other sources claim it was his brother. It is likely that either way he was one of the main foils for Soga no Umako and his attempts to bring in Buddhism, and thus gets top billing in the Chronicles.

Hirohime

Nunakura’s first queen, with a royal lineage through the Okinaga family. At this time, we can see a kind of political competition between the Okinaga and Soga lineages in the royal family.

Toyomike Kashikiya Hime

A granddaughter of Soga no Iname, she would be Nunakura’s queen at the end of his reign. Her ties to the Soga family would be important as she provided some cover from the court, and later she would really take the reins for herself to help drive things forward. For now, though, it is simply an indication that the politics were leaning in favor of the Soga family.

Kurabe no Sukushi no Shiba Tattō

An immigrant from the mainland, possibly of ethnic Han extraction, though it isn’t explicitly stated. He is enlisted by Umako to help find people who can instruct others about Buddhism.

Shima, aka Shimane, aka Zenshin-ni

The nun Zenshin-ni was originally named “Shima” or “Shimane” and was the daughter of Tattō. A later note in the Nihon Shoki suggests that she was only twelve years old when she took Buddhist orders. She was later beaten and flogged for it, when she was only thirteen or fourteen years old.

Toyome, aka Zenzō-ni, and Ishime, aka Ezen-ni

Two other women who were also inducted as nuns along with Zenshin-ni. It is implied that they were subordinate, and possibly subservient, to Zenshin-ni.

Eben

The Japanese on’yomi reading of the name of a former monk from Goguryeo, living in Harima. We are not told why he was no longer a monk, but it isn’t uncommon, even today, for people in some Buddhist traditions to become a monk for only a short time, often to help make merit, but then going back to the life of a layperson. On the Korean peninsula, it seems that it was often the case that people did not always have a say in whether they would become a monk or not, as the State often had people inducted on the behalf of kings and princes, so that the latter could focus on governing rather than on merit making.

Nakatomi no Iware no Muraji

The Nakatomi family were court ritualists, and would eventually become quite powerful in their own right. It is unclear how big a role they actually played at this point. There is also mention of a Nakatomi no Muraji no Katsumi no Daibu, but it is unclear of the relationship other than they were in the same famliy. Previously it was Nakatomi no Muraji no Kamako who had sided with Mononobe no Okoshi, so clearly the families were closely aligned.

Ōmiwa no Sakahe no Kimi

The Ōmiwa family would have been from the area of Mt. Miwa, one of the oldest sacred sites in Japan, and from which the early sovereigns seem to have derived their spiritual efficacy. In fact, early on it is the rituals associated with the kami of Mt. Miwa that appear to accompany the spread of royal authority throughout the islands. As such, we can assume this was another individual invested in the way the kami were currently worhsipped.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 88: Let’s Give This Buddhism Thing Another Try.
This episode we are going to return to the story of Buddhism in the archipelago—specifically what was going on into the next reign. And what a fortuitous episode to do it on as well. For those who aren’t aware, “8” is an auspicious number in Buddhism, so I figure for episode 88, this makes for a decent topic.
Now back in Episode 86, we saw the death of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, in 576 CE, just as a delegation of envoys arrived from Goguryeo. As we noted at the time, Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennou, succeeded him to the throne. You may recall that Nunakura was the second son of Ame Kunioshi and his Queen, Ishihime. His older brother, Yata no Tamakatsu no Ohoye appears to have been the Crown Prince, but then he passed away, and so Nunakura was raised up in his stead.
In many ways, Nunakura represents the Old Guard at this time. The Chronicles make it clear that he is a classical heir, descended through multiple royal lineages. His father, Ame Kunioshi, was of course the latest in the lineage descending from Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, while his mother, Ishihime, was the daughter of Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou, Ame Kunioshi’s brother by another mother—quite literally. In fact, one wonders if the reason for Magari no Ohine and Takewo, aka Ankan and Senka Tennou, even being mentioned as sovereigns in the Chronicles may have been because of the way that they therefore legitimized Nunakura’s own reign, as some scholars have suggested that they really may not have ruled at all, and that really it was all Ame Kunioshi during that entire period that their reigns covered. After all, most of the sovereigns up to this point have been descended through multiple royal lineages, and even Magari no Ohine and Takewo’s reigns were depicted as though they were simply regents, holding the seat for their younger and more legitimate brother.
Nunakura held fast to the old traditions in another way, too: We are pointedly told in the Nihon Shoki that, though he was of good character, he was not a Buddhist. This is perhaps a curious statement to make—after all, none of the previous sovereigns have really been Buddhist, either—but then this is the first sovereign to take the throne since the archipelago had been exposed to Buddhist teachings, at least according to the narrative.
From our perspective today, that doesn’t seem all that strange. Buddhism had just come to the archipelago and, honestly, it hadn’t made that much of a splash from what we can tell. Back in Episode 85, Soga no Iname had set up a temple and started worshipping an image that had come from the continent, but that initial attempt was sabotaged by others, including Mononobe no Okoshi. The old families were, of course, rather invested in the system of rituals around their local kami and the socio-political power they derived from being in charge of those same rituals.
Soga no Iname had passed away towards the end of the previous reign, and his son, Umako, took up the mantle as head of the Soga family, and his father’s position as Oho-omi. Meanwhile, Mononobe no Okoshi had also passed away, and it seems that at the head of the Mononobe family as a man by the name of Yuge no Moriya, who was confirmed in his position as Ohomuraji by the new sovereign—or at least that is what the Nihon Shoki tells us, and it may be because of his prominence in the story to come. The Sendai Kuji Hongi claims that it was Moriya’s brother, Ohoichi no Mikari, who was made Ohomuraji, but there is little else. Regardless of whether it was Moriya or Mikari, the power dynamics between the Soga and Mononobe families were still in a similar to the previous reign, just in new hands.
Now, for all that the Chronicles stress how much Nunakura was not a Buddhist, neither was he particularly nativist. He enjoyed the Classics that were being imported from the mainland, and presumably was able to read in the continental fashion. He was also interested in ensuring good relations with the Korean peninsula—with both Yamato’s traditional ally of Baekje, but also with the growing kingdom of Silla. Still, Buddhism was off the table for him.
For the most part his reign started similar to any other. After coming to the throne, in 572, he confirmed his wife as Queen, with his mother being hailed as the Queen Mother. He also set up his own palace site at Ohowi in Kudara, in the land of Kawachi. Interestingly this appears to place him outside of the Nara basin—certainly outside of the lands of the Soga. However, the area that he settled in, Kudara, is interesting because that is the same reading given to the characters for “Baekje”. In fact the kanji, or Sinitic characters, that they use are the same as “Baekje”, and if you didn’t know otherwise you would likely read them as something like “Byakuzai”. However, just as many characters for the Han and Tang dynasties are read as “Kara”, likely referencing the fact that things came to the archipelago through the Kara states, the name for Baekje was rendered as “Kudara”.
And to be honest, I’ve never seen a good reason why the characters came to be read this way, or even whether or not that was the reading when the Chronicles were compiled. Certainly it was the authoritative reading later on, and there are plenty of placenames that use that reading as “Kudara”. Still, I’m not absolutely certain when that reading became common, but that is how these kanji are often pronounced, today, for whatever reason.
Now just because Nunakura wasn’t a Buddhist didn't mean that Buddhism wasn’t still making inroads into the islands. And while the Soga family would stand at the forefront of Buddhist proselytization, our first actor is actually a little different, and largely forgotten, from what I can tell. His name was Ohowake no Miko, or the royal prince Ohowake.
This name doesn't do a lot to help us identify him. He's a royal prince, meaning he had a direct claim to the royal lineage, born to one of the sovereigns or their progeny. “Oho” means “Big”, or “Elder”, and “Wake”, well, that’s a bit more complicated. Based on the way it is used in older names it would appear to be a title or honorific of some kind. Traditional Japanese etymology claims that it comes from the fact that “Wake” comes from “Wakeru”, to break, cut off, or separate. So basically they come from a line that has been “cut off” from the royal lineage, but they still have royal blood. This seems a little suspect to me, personally. I do wonder if it could be related to the term “Waka”, which also shows up a lot in names, but that is a stretch. Instead, I think it may be an old title, or kabane, for a person of not insignificant rank.
Still, it isn’t clear what is meant, and even then, this is a pretty generic name that doesn’t tell us much about who this guy actually was. One theory is that this is another name for someone mentioned elsewhere in the Chronicles, perhaps even one on the later sovereigns. People at the time that the Chronicles were written knew who it referred to, but it is much harder to piece together, today. Another suggestion is that this “Ohowake” was someone who was otherwise written out of the history for some reason—all except for here. Of course, why they were written out one could only fathom a guess. Finally, there is the thought that the name could be misspelled. Back in the time of hand copying, over thousands of copies it would be easy to slip up once or twice in the thousands of characters they had written, already. Later scribes then faithfully copied the mistake, and suddenly a new name is born. Even then, though, I’m not sure we could make a good guess as to who this really was.
What we do know is that in 577, this royal prince known only as “Ohowake” in the Chronicles went to Baekje, presumably as an ambassador for Yamato, and returned with religious books and six individuals, including monks, a nun, an architect, and a Buddhist image maker.
It is significant, that what this royal prince brought back was more than just books this time. Now, there were artisans being imported who could actually make Buddhist statues and temples here in the islands. They would have known how those temples were built, the significance of the layout, how the wooden beams were carved, and even how the distinctive rooftiles were made. And this wasn’t just different craft techniques - there were rules for how a temple was supposed to be constructed, the different buildings, even the relics to be buried underneath a building to help make it sacred. Likewise the images also followed particular rules. Whether it was the image of the Buddha, or of one of the many accompanying deities, it wasn’t enough to be a stone carver or a woodworker—Buddhist imagery was its own thing. All of this was very different from other artforms and architecture in the archipelago at the time.
It is also telling that Ohowake brought back monks and a nun. Specifically they had brought monks who specialized in various practices, including meditation and mantra recitation. You may recall that earlier the people of the archipelago had received images and texts, and it seems that Soga no Iname was trying to piece together what to do based on the texts—likely interpreting all of it through the eyes of the local religious practices of the time. An ordained monk and an ordained nun, however, would have known the proper rituals and how they were to be conducted. But almost more importantly, you needed Buddhist monks and nuns to make other Buddhist monks and nuns —although technically you typically need more than that, you should have a Sangha, a Buddhist community. While traditions vary, it would seem that you need at least four monks to make a Sangha, and some traditions require at least ten —and I presume the same or more for women. Whether or not they could authoritatively conduct all of the rites, the monk and the nun could, one assumes, teach how they were supposed to be done.
These newcomers appear to have been ensconced at a place called Ohowake-ji, or Ohowake temple, in Naniwa. Some suggest that this may be in error and that “Ohowake” was a typo for “Ohogori”, an official residence for envoys traveling to and from Japan. If this latter is true, then much like Soga no Iname had turned his house into a temple, these Buddhist teachers may have been staying at the Ohogoori-ji, and there was a scribal error of “Wake” for “Goori”. This theory also notes that the word “Ji”, or “Tera” in the kun’yomi reading, originally meant an official government building, but gradually shifted to referring to Buddhist temples as Buddhism made its way across the desert, through Yellow River and Yangzi river valleys. By the time it made it to the Korean peninsula and across the strait to the Japanese archipelago, Buddhist temples were all using the suffix “-Ji”. The problem with this theory is that we don’t really see the character “ji” or “tera” used in the government building sense in other instances from this time, and so it seems a bit of a stretch to suggest that is what is going on here. Personally, I envision that they did stand up a temple, though the actual location and design—let alone the artifacts within—have been lost to time.
Ohowake’s import of Buddhist expertise wasn’t it for Buddhism during Nunakura’s reign, however, as things continued to trickle in. In 579, for example, Silla envoys brought a Buddhist image, indicating that they, too, had taken an interest in this foreign religion, and they were using it as part of their diplomacy. This may have been a further reason to pressure Yamato to at least look into the religion and join the larger world of Buddhist countries, but it doesn’t seem to have swayed the sovereign—at least not in any obvious way.
Five years after the gift from Silla, in 584, Soga no Iname’s son and heir, Soga no Umako, decided to give this interesting new religion another go. The atmosphere by this point was a little different: still not entirely hospitable, but there had clearly been more and more interest in Buddhism since its first arrival fifty years before. In addition to the growing acceptance of this foreign religion, however, there were some key political aspects as well that may point to why Soga no Umako decided to act.
You see, Nunakura, at the start of his reign, had been married to a woman named Hirohime, who was the daughter of Okinaga no Mate no Miko. The Okinaga family doesn’t get quite as much press as others, but seems to have been relatively powerful; and let’s not forget that there was a sovereign, Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jinguu Tennou. They had not only supplied Hirohime as a daughter to the current sovereign, but their name is found in the lists of people who had produced wives of the sovereign going back for several generations. Hirohime was the queen, and no doubt one of her progeny was expected to eventually come to the throne and rule as sovereign. However, in 576, just five years into Nunakura’s reign, Hirohime passed away. This tragic event nonetheless left a bit of a political void in the form of the Queen, whose offspring would no doubt possess some serious political chops, whether or not they actually ruled.
Fortunately for the Soga, they had an answer: Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, the daughter of Amekunioshi and Kitashi Hime, which made her half-sister to Nunakura, but more than that, it made her the niece of none other than Soga no Umako, since her mother was also a child of Soga no Iname. And without spoiling too much, put a pin in her name—we will definitely be coming back to her in later episodes. It is unclear whether Kashikiya Hime was already one of Nunakura’s consorts or if she was instead promoted directly to queen, based on the way the Chronicle talks about it, but Queen she did become. We are told that she was taken up at the “urging of the court”, and probably by certain prominent figures therein, and so the Soga’s plan to marry their daughters into the royal lineage and thus use blood ties to more closely bind themselves to the central authority appears to have been working.
This also meant that as Umako tried once again to get Buddhism off the ground, he now had a supposedly friendly figure in the royal bedchamber, who could help whisper in the sovereign’s ear. So he had, presumably, a little more clout than his father had when he had tried to set up a temple.
To start things off, Soga no Umako had heard about two Buddha images in the archipelago, and he went about acquiring them. The first was a stone image of Miroku, aka Maitreya, the future Buddha who was said to come in another four to nine thousand years to remind people of the Dharma once again. This had been brought from Baekje by an immigrant known to us as Kafuka no Omi. The other was an image of the Buddha, presumably Gautama, the historical Buddha, in the possession of one Saheki no Muraji.
With these images in his possession, Soga no Umako went looking for someone with previous knowledge of Buddhist practices to assist. To do this he enlisted the help of Kurabe no Sukuri no Shiba Tattou, along with others. Tattou is traditionally thought to have come from the continent, possibly as early as 522 CE, about 63 years earlier. The Fuso Ryakki, compiled in the eleventh century, claims he came from the “Great Tang”, even though that dynasty had yet to have been established, and that he had immigrated to the country of Yamato, where he built a grass hut and installed an image of the Buddha. While this is likely a bit of exaggeration on the part of the ancient chroniclers, to make Tattou seem like the perfect Buddhist resource, it is likely that Tattou did come from the continent or was a descendant in the first or second generation, and that he had some knowledge about the religion. This made him perfect for Soga no Umako, who needed someone who knew what to look for in others who might be able to assist him in once again setting up a temple of his own.
Sure enough, Tattou found someone: a former monk from Goguryeo, named Ebin in Japan, now living in Harima, who had gone back to being a layperson. This is not as unusual as it may seem, as there are many reasons that someone might leave the monkhood, and even later return back to it. Whether or not he was currently an ordained and practicing monk, Ebin would have known the rites and how to proceed.
Here I would note that it seems a bit odd that Umako would have searched high and low throughout the immigrant community if the temple of Ohowake was still there in Naniwa. Why didn’t they just ask someone from that temple to come and get things kickstarted for them? Unfortunately, we don’t know, though it is possible that the temple of Ohowake had already failed for some reason.
And so the former monk, Ebin, was brought on board Umako’s little project, and there are some sources that suggest there was a nun as well, known as Houmei, but I didn’t notice her name in the Nihon Shoki. Ebin—and possibly Houmei—were first told to instruct none other than Tattou’s own daughter, Shima, or possibly Shimane, to become a Buddhist nun. This may have been at least in part because Tattou’s family clearly already had some familiarity with Buddhism, and there may have also been some linguistic advantages depending on the languages they knew and spoke—especially as much of what had come over was probably written in Sinic characters.
Shima was given the Buddhist name of Zenshin, or more appropriately Zenshin-ni. This was another common practice, at least in East Asia, where new initiates would take a Buddhist—or more appropriately a Dharma—name when they were ordained. We’ll see this a lot, and you have no doubt encountered such names elsewhere. They are typically made up of two kanji, or Sinitic characters, and pronounced with the On’yomi reading. The name is often given by a teacher and emphasizes some Buddhist virtue or teaching that is considered particularly apt. In this case “Zenshin” would appear to mean something like “Auspicious Belief”.
Two other women were taken on as students—or possibly as servants, or just junior nuns—along with Zenshin. They were Toyome, daughter of Ayabito no Hoshi, who became Zenzou, which would seem to indicate “Meditative Storehouse”; and Ishime, daughter of Nishigori no Tsubo, who became Ezen, or something like “Blessed Fortune”.
With three nuns, Soga no Umako built a Buddhist Temple onto the east side of his home where he enshrined the stone image of Miroku, or Maitreya, the future Buddha, and he had the three newly minted nuns worship there while Shiba Tattou and Hida no Atahe provided them support and sustenance.
Although they were ordained and worshipping a Buddhist image, it is interesting that Umako chose women to become nuns, rather than monks. There is some thought that, for all of the Buddhist instruction, Umako was still following a popular indigenous model of worship, where the three women were essentially acting in place of female shamans, a tradition that would appear to have been common on the archipelago all the way back to Queen Himiko, and hinted at in various places within the Chronicles, including the very stories of the kami themselves. One also questions just how much the women knew regarding Buddhist practice, despite having a teacher who was formerly a monk. There are some suggestions that the women themselves were rather young, with one note claiming that Zenshin was only twelve years old when she was ordained—hardly an age where one expects her to be leading, let alone teaching, about a foreign religion from another country.
Furthermore, the terms used surrounding the nuns’ “worship” also leads one to wonder. The word used is “sai” or “matsuri”, which is sometimes translated as “maigre faire”, or abstinence, but here likely refers to some kind of meal or feast. This was possibly a Buddhist vegetarian feast, though the idea of a feast as worship seems to dovetail nicely once again into the local practices surrounding kami worship as well.
From this first meal, Tattou supposedly found a “relic”, by which would seem to be meant a relic of the Buddha. Now what a relic of the Buddha was doing in the Japanese islands, so far away from the Indian subcontinent, might seem to be a pertinent question, but that is where you would be wrong. You see, according to some traditions, the body of the Buddha had transformed through miraculous processes into hard crystal or glass stones, which themselves had made their way across the world. This was fortunate for Buddhists, who therefore didn’t need to send away for fresh relics from India every time they needed to found a new temple, they just had to find appropriate relics where they were.
To test the relics—we aren’t given much more of a description of what they were—Soga no Umako took a giant iron maul and brought that hammer down on the relic Tattou had found. However, rather than the relic shattering, the iron maul broke, instead, along with the block of iron they had put underneath of it. After testing its strength, the relic was placed in water, where it would float or sink depending on what was desired. These supposedly proved that the relic was holy, and so it was used to inaugurate a new pagoda. The pagoda was built on top of the Hill of Ohono, or large field, and we are told that they had the nuns conduct another ritual feast prior to placing the relic in the top of the pagoda, recalling the purpose of the pagoda as the replacement for the stupa, the repository for relics of the Buddha at a temple complex.
In the background of all of this, Yamato was apparently experiencing their own epidemic. We are told that pestilence was in the land, and Soga no Umako himself became ill. Trying to ascertain the cause of his own illness, Umako enlisted a diviner, who told him that the pestilence was a curse sent by the Buddha worshipped by Soga no Umako’s father, Soga no Iname. Once again we see the Buddha being treated more like a kami. After all, why would the one who came to save all sentient beings curse someone? And yet they did seem to believe that this curse was due to the way that the previous temple that Iname had set up had been torn down and the image tossed, unceremoniously, into the Yodo river.
And since the cause of the pestilence had been determined by a diviner, apparently that was enough to get Nunakura on board. Whether or not he personally worshipped the Buddha, he allowed Umako to worship the image so that he could appease his father’s gods and hopefully recover.
Shortly thereafter—less than a week later, if the dates are to be believed—we start to really get a sense of déjà vu, as Mononobe no Yugehi no Moriya, son of Mononobe no Okoshi and the current Ohomuraji of the Mononobe family, remonstrated Nunakura over this whole Buddhism thing. Just as Okoshi had done decades previously, Moriya claimed that the whole reason that there was an epidemic in the first place was because they had once again welcomed Buddhism into the land, and that they needed to put a stop to it. Nunakura was swayed by his arguments, and he took back what he had said and issued an edict that demanded that the worship of Buddhism cease.
Here we see, once again, the destruction of the Buddhist temple, but this time around we are given much greater detail. For one thing, Moirya seems to have taken rather a lot of pride in this. He went to the temple with his men, sat down in a chair, and from there he oversaw the destruction of the pagoda, the temple, and even the stone image. Whatever couldn’t be destroyed was taken to the Naniwa canal and thrown into the waters.
As he did all of this, the Chroniclers record that there was wind and rain, but no clouds, not quite unlike the idea of a fox’s wedding—an interesting phenomenon where you can have the sun, usually in the morning or late afternoon, shining at the same time that rainclouds overhead are opening up the heavens are pouring down.
Moriya simply donned a raincoat, and then he upbraided Soga no Umako and all of his followers, trying to shame them. He then had Sukune call forward the various nuns, who were stripped of their “three garments”, a term for the traditional Buddhist robes, although in East Asia this was eventually replaced with the single kesa over several lower garments, to help fend off the cold. Here it is unclear if just a kesa is meant, or if they were dressed in an attempt at clothing from the Indian continent. The nuns were then imprisoned and flogged at the roadside station of Tsubaki no Ichi, otherwise known as the Tsubaki Market.
Despite thus cleansing the land of Buddhist influence for the second time, the pestilence didn’t stop, and people continued to grow ill and die. In fact, there was an embassy planned to talk about the Nimna situation once again, but both the sovereign, Nunakura, as well as Mononobe no Moriya himself, became ill and were afflicted with sores. Once again, the land was plagued and people were dying.
According to the Chroniclers, who were, of course, writing after the fact in a well-established Buddhist state, the people started to privately complain that clearly Buddhism hadn’t been the problem. In fact, perhaps Soga no Umako’s diviner had been correct all along and the plague was actually because they *hadn’t* accepted Buddhism, rather than a punishment for neglecting the local kami.
A few months later, Soga no Umako sent another message to the sovereign. He was still ill, and hadn’t recovered, even with Moriya “purging” the influences of Buddhism. Umako claimed that the only things that would cure him were the Three Precious Things, which is to say the Sanzou, or the Three Treasures of Buddhism: The Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. Based on the severity of the disease, Nunakura authorized him to worship privately, and the nuns were allowed to assist him. He rebuilt the temple and he provided for the nuns, himself. Eventually, Umako recovered, but unfortunately, the sovereign did not. Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, died in 585, laid low by the plague that had swept through the land.
At the funeral, the politics were on full display. Soga no Umako had no love lost for Mononobe no Moriya, nor vice versa. As Umako was delivering a speech, Moriya made a comment that with his extremely long sword at his side, Umako looked like a fat little sparrow that had been pierced through by a hunting shaft. Meanwhile, Umako noted that Moriya was shaking as he gave his speech—whether from emotion, nerves, or something else we don’t know—and so Umako suggested hanging bells on him, so that they would jingle as he shook. From this rap battle on out, the feud between the Mononobe and the Soga would only grow.
There is another account of all of this, buried amongst everything else, that claims that Mononobe no Moriya, Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, and Nakatomi no Iware no Muraji all conspired together to destroy the Buddhist religion. They wanted to burn the temple and pagoda that Soga no Umako had built, but Umako opposed the project and would not allow it, or so we are told. Here it is unclear if we are talking about the previous temple or the rebuilt one, but the names here are interesting. Of course we know that the Soga and the Mononobe were going at it, and the inclusion of Nakatomi no Iware simply picks up the previous alliance between the Mononobe and Nakatomi, both of whom had been active during the assault on Soga Iname’s temple. Lastly, though, there is Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, which is interesting. This figure would appear to be from the Ohomiwa family and region, likely drawing some amount of respect from their connection with Mt. Miwa itself, and the ancient worship that went on there. So, in this version there really is a triple threat of “the old guard” banding together to resist this newfangled foreign faith.
Incidentally, this same figure, Ohomiwa no Sakahe no Kimi, also appears just after the death of Nunakura, when Prince Anahobe figured he could just waltz in and take the throne on the assumption that he was owed it by birth. He was a half-brother to Nunakura, son of Ame Kunioshi and his mother, Wonanegimi, who was another daughter of Soga no Iname. Anahobe was therefore nephew to Umako, and perhaps that is one of the reasons he thought he could just waltz in and take his seat at the head of government. But Prince Anahobe was foiled by none other than Ohomiwa no Sakahe, who posted a guard around the palace and made sure that nobody defiled it until a new sovereign had been identified by the court. Anahobe voiced his complaint that Ohomiwa was protecting the court of a “dead king”, and that they should instead come to the court of a “living king”—presumably he meant his own.
But that will take us past this point, and there are still some other details of Nunakura or Bidatsu’s reign I want to touch on, such as his dealings on the continent, but here we can see how Buddhism and the feud between the Soga and the Mononobe was in full swing, and that will definitely play a large part in future episodes. In addition, we’ll see how this time, Umako wouldn’t take things lying down. He was going to get this Buddhism thing to stick one way or the other, and we’ll see what happens when he finally founds the first permanent temple in Japan; a temple that, while perhaps not as grand as it once was, continues to operate into the modern day.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Friday, K.F. (Ed.). (2017). Routledge Handbook of Premodern Japanese History (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315170473
Deal, William E. and Ruppert, Brian. (2015). A Cultural History of Japanese Buddhism. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies. ISBN: 978-1-405-16700-0.
McCallum, D. F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Art, Archaeology, and Icons of Seventy-Century Japan. University of Hawai’i Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt6wqtwv
Matsuo, K. (13 Dec. 2007). A History of Japanese Buddhism. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9781905246410.i-280
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Farris, W. (1998). Sacred Texts and Buried Treasures: Issues in the Historical Archaeology of Ancient Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9780824864224
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 87: The Dual Eruptions of Mount Haruna

June 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Image of Mt. Haruna’s conical dome in the fall. Public domain photo downloaded from Wikimedia.

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This episode is a little different. We are looking at an event—actually two events—that we only really know through archaeology, because nothing that we've found in the written record references it. I’m talking about the two eruptions of Mount Haruna in the early and mid 6th centuries.

For more, check out some of the links we have below in the References section.

Haniwa collection

A collection of Haniwa at the Tokyo National Museum, showing various different types of haniwa figures.

Haniwa warrior

Here we have a haniwa figure of someone who appears to be a warrior or a hunter. Along with regular clothing, he has on arm protectors, a short sword, and accoutrements for archery. Tokyo National Museum - Photo by author.

Belt and accessories

Here we see the patterned belt and various accessories. In particular we see a wrist guard hanging from the belt, used to protect the wrist when using a bow. Tokyo National Museum - Photo by author.

Warrior in "Tanko"

Here we see a warrior in classic “tanko” style armor. Tokyo National Museum - Photo by author.

Kofun person

Another example of the figures found at various tombs. Tokyo National Museum - Photo by author.

Figure sitting in a chair

Here we see someone sitting in a chair of some kind. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Musician

Here we have someone playing music on what looks to be a zither, like the wagon. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Kofun era horse

Here we have a haniwa figure of a horse, all dressed up in its finery. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Kofun bit and stirrups

Here we see a kofun era bit and pair of stirrups. Notice these stirrups are not dissimilar from western stirrups, compared to the later abumi, which were more like curved platforms. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Kofun era stirrups

Another style of stirrup, this one more “pot” shaped, covering the whole of the front of the foot, giving greater purchase, but still covering all sides of the foot. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Belt (reconstruction)

This is a reconstruction of a 6th century belt, quite similar to what was found on the continent. This would have likely been for an elite, with plenty of places to hang pouches and other tools. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Solid "tanko" armor

This relatively solid style, or “tanko” armor was an earlier form, and is more rigid than the lamellar. It is often suggested that the lamellar came in with horse riding culture. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author

Warrior in "tanko" style armor

Here we have a warrior in what appears to be the solid “tanko” style of armor, including the rivets or ties holding it together. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Lamellar armor

Often called “keiko” style armor, this is an example of the lamellar armor found in the archipelago and the peninsula in the 6th century. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author

Warrior in lamellar armor

Here we see a haniwa of a warrior in what appears to be the lamellar, or “keiko”, style of armor. Tokyo National Museum - photo by author.

Peninsular lamellar (reconstruction)

A reconstruction of the kind of lamellar armor found on the peninsula in the Goguryeo region. There are many similarities with armors found in the archipelago at this time. Seoul National Museum - photo by author.

If you want to see more, check out photos I’ve pulled out for the Kofun period in the 6th century, over on Flickr.

The Tone River

A quick note about the Tone River. Although the modern river runs to the Pacific ocean on the coast of modern Chiba prefecture, the original river used to run south, through modern Tokyo and flowing into Tokyo Bay. During the Edo period (1654), to avoid flooding, the river was redirected into a nearby watershed, creating the current geography. This river has long been important in the Kanto plain, as evidenced by the communities that grew up along its banks.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 87: The Dual Eruptions of Mt. Haruna.
We’ve been going through the Chronicles for some time now, from The Age of the Gods and the legends about how the heavenly grandchild, Ninigi no Mikoto, came down to earth, settling in Kyushu. We read about how the legendary Iwarebiko, aka Jimmu Tenno, came up and conquered the land of Yamato, and how his descendants ruled from there. We’ve also gone over the various dynasties, from Mimaki Iribiko and his descendants to Homuda Wake and his descendants on the Kawachi plain. And recently we had Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, enter the picture, kicking off the latest, and generally agreed to be the current dynasty of rulers.
In the earliest chronicles, it is clear that we were looking at events that had been highly mythologized. Certainly there may have been some truth and memory about how the Miwa cult had become prominent, not to mention references to Izumo indicating its importance in the early archipelago.
The Miwa Cult, of course, refers to religious practices centered around Mt. Miwa, which the Yamato court appears to have used as a political and cultural tool as they expanded their influence across the archipelago. Similarly, the numerous references to Izumo, on the Japan sea side of western Honshu, as a “Land of the Gods” and the eventual submission of those deities to the Yamato court in the record is bolstered by archaeological evidence of competing cultural centers. However, the strict narratives given in the Nihon Shoki can hardly be taken at face value, and there were also plenty of examples of conflicting information.
Most prominently is no doubt the story of Queen Himiko, whom the Wei chroniclers talked about extensively and yet in the Chronicles, excerpts from her life are inserted into the reign of Okinaga no Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Tennou, leading us to further doubt much of what is written.
Of course, much of the older history was probably passed down as stories and oral teachings, a tradition that appears to have continued right up through the time of the Chronicles. But even as writing came to the archipelago, and the various outposts of the Yamato court started to send in written reports, there are still discrepancies with what we know compared to the records from the peninsula and continent, not to mention the archeological record. Most of this is attributed to the chroniclers themselves and their mission. While ostensibly they were telling the story of “Nihon”, i.e. the story of Japan, more realistically they were focused on the legitimacy of the sovereign and propping up the power and prestige of the court and the important families.
For example, there is a lot on the central areas around Yamato, including Kawachi, Harima, and Yamashiro. Where we do get information outside of these areas, it is typically something regarding the Yamato court - information on the lands of Kibi, Izumo, Koshi, or just about anything in Tsukushi is limited, even though we know these were areas where a lot was going on.
This is particularly intriguing to me as there are some things that you would think might make it in, natural disasters being one of them. Then again, Japan is volcanically active. Earthquakes are not uncommon, and then the occasional volcanic eruption. Then there are the various typhoons and heavy rainstorms that create flooding and other hazardous conditions. However, many of these disasters are localized, and some may just not have been considered that important. If the disaster didn’t affect the court and wasn’t related in some way to a portent or omen about the court, then it may have been overlooked by the Chroniclers. And, with the number of disasters that Japan experiences, many things that we might find shocking or incredible may not have been considered all that special by the Chroniclers.
This episode, I want to start out looking at just such a disaster and what we learn about the period in the aftermath: the 6th century eruptions of the Haruna volcano. Credit where credit is due, this was suggested as a topic by listener Samy who brought it to my attention, so thanks for that.
Mount Haruna is located in modern Gunma prefecture, far to the east of the Nara basin, and thus likely out of sight for most of the Chroniclers. It is in the area of modern Takasaki city, in Gunma Prefecture, just west of Maebashi. This is about 100 kilometers northwest of modern Tokyo, or about an hour and a half by train. Along the eastern edge of Takasaki flows the Tone River, which continues all the way out to its mouth on the Pacific Ocean on the on the eastern coast of Honshu at modern Choushi, in Chiba prefecture. Along the Tone river can be found many kofun, which would appear to indicate a healthy population with elites capable of mobilizing the labor for such monumental constructions.
Volcanoes are notoriously attractive targets for human habitation. Porous rock, such as pumice, with various minerals from the ash deposited in the surrounding areas, can provide extremely fertile soil, which is great for agriculturists. There may also be hot springs, and in this Mount Haruna is no exception, making it a popular place for people to visit, even today. Of course, volcanoes also bring complications. Poisonous gasses can seep out of the ground, often settling, invisible, in depressions and low lying areas. And of course, there are the eruptions. A mountain may be quiet for generations, and then suddenly it erupts. An eruption may mean little more than smoke and ash, or it may mean fiery rocks raining down from the sky and pyroclastic flows—superheated gas and rock that flows like a river, killing all in its path and burying everything in a layer of what is called “tephra”—pumice, ash, and other solid material ejected from the volcano.
For all of their devastating effects, however, these can sometimes be a boon to archaeologists, as they bury a site quickly, preserving it in amazing detail. Perhaps the most famous of these is the Italian city of Pompeii, which was buried so quickly that they found much of the city just as it was in the final moments as the city was buried. A horrendous toll of human life, and yet, centuries later, it gives us an unequaled view into the life that they lived.
At the foot of Mount Haruna, we find what some have dubbed the “Pompeii of Japan”. It is an area around the banks of the Agatsuma River, which flows southeast into the Tone river, in modern Shibukawa. This area was apparently well-populated, with villages on the slopes and around the river. Rather than a single site, there are a collection of sites, including Kanai Higashiura, Kuroimine, and others. No doubt there are more sites, lurking under the soil, still to be discovered in future excavations.
We can never know for certainty what happened in the past, but given the state of preservation, there are a few things that we can know.
The slopes and valleys around Mt. Haruna were dotted with signs of human settlement. One of these were the many kofun in the area. In fact, the 5th century Inariyama kofun, containing one of the swords mentioning Wakatakiru, which we discussed back in episodes 46 and 58, is only about 20km or so southeast of Mt. Haruna, and 4km from the banks of Tone river. So in the mid to late fifth century, someone from the area had been of service to the court at Yamato, as recorded on a precious iron sword. it wasn’t alone. There were kofun throughout the area, including keyhole shaped kofun from the 4th century upward to the current point of our story. They lay mostly to the south, in the flat lands around the various river valleys, such as the Tone River, mentioned before. This was part of the land of Kenu, mentioned in the Chronicles from the time of Yamatodake, later split into Shimozuke and, here, Kozuke.
In addition to the kofun there were, of course, habitats for the living inhabitants of the region as well. We have evidence of pit structures—dug into the ground like the earliest structures on the archipelago—but also we have post holes indicating a raised building and even ground-level structures of some sort. There were also various fences, woven together out of reeds and thin bamboo, set up as well. No doubt the smoke of thousands of fires would have drifted up to the heavens from the valleys as people cooked food, fired pottery, and more.
The flat areas of the valley were likely covered in rice paddy fields, as well as fields for other crops. Men, women, and children would have come together to tend the fields throughout the year, but that wasn’t the only occupation. There were those who raised horses, and others who worked with the earth to create clay vessels. Woodcutters would have climbed the hillside to bring back fuel for the many fires, while hunters sought their quarry in the same, wooded terrain.
There were also special ritual areas. In one instance we know there was a round area designated for some kind of ritual, where various hajiware and other types of pottery were found, stacked layer upon layer, as new dishes were added on top of old. Inside of the clay jars, pots, cups, dishes, etc. there were stone and iron implements, clearly meant for ritual purposes. There were likely special individuals who were tasked to maintain the area and to ensure that the proper rituals—whatever those may have been—were carried out.
Speaking of the people, from the archeological evidence we know that they were rather diverse, at least for the archipelago at this time. Some of them more closely resembled the people who had been in the islands since the Jomon period, but others more closely resembled the people from more recent waves, come over from the peninsula. They lived and worked, side-by-side, and grew up in the same regions and the same villages, such that there was no practical differentiation between them, though likely there were memories of which families had descended from people outside of the community and vice versa.
Along with everyone in civilian dress, you also would see people in iron armor. Lamellar armor, also known as “keiko”, was developed on the continent, and had grown more and more popular. It would eventually replace altogether the rigid, riveted armor, often called “tanko”. The tanko style is made up of rectangular and triangular shaped iron plates, beaten into shape over a wooden form and then riveted into place. Inside it was lined with leather, both for structural integrity and for some level of comfort. Lacquer would have helped keep the iron protected from the elements. The keiko, or lamellar, armors were quite different, being made up of many different small plates, known to us as “san-e”. It could take thousands of iron plates, all laced together, to make a single suit, but it offered a certain amount of flexibility, and was probably the more expensive product given just how labor intensive it would have been to make.
From haniwa figurines from this period, which depict all aspects of daily life, from warriors to dancers and even musicians, we also have some idea of the clothing, jewelry, hairstyles, and even makeup from around this period. A particular style of trousers which ballooned out and were then tied at the knee were not uncommon, and there were also overshirts that flared out at the waist. Many of these were held together with ties, though there were sashes and belts as well. In some instances we even see remnants of paint or some kind of coloration on the clothing and faces of the haniwa, which may have indicated a kind of make-up that was popular, or perhaps even a form of tattoo.
To get a better visual, check out some of the haniwa figures from this period on our website: sengokudaimyo.com/podcast.
So this may give us an idea of what life was like along the slopes and valleys surround Mount Haruna in the early 6th century. It was a relatively diverse community, cultivating the land around the rivers, burying their dead in the mounded tombs that dotted the landscape, but otherwise going about their lives. There were farmers, hunters, and various people making crafts, jewelry, and more. There were differences of class as well, with certain elites having a special place in the community, with finer armor, horses, and other distinguishing characteristics.
One imagines them dealing with the various seasons throughout the year, likely gathering to celebrate major events in the life of the community.
From what we can tell, early in the 6th century, life was proceeding normally, and nobody expected what was to come. The timeline and details are fuzzy, but there is enough research and we’ve encountered similar events often enough that we can get an idea of just what happened. There may have been a few warning rumbles—but earthquakes are hardly anything new in the archipelago, and even if there were more or they were more numerous, likely life continued as normally, albeit perhaps with a few more offerings presented in the ceremonial pit. This continued until sometime in the summer, probably around 539.
The first major indication of a problem was likely an explosion and a plume of smoke rising up from near the top of the mountain, which would have stretched out across the skies, pushed by prevailing winds. Magma had reached the surface and interacted with water, which quickly superheated and exploded. Ash was ejected into the sky, but as it rose the fine ash started to stick to the outside of small water droplets, forming a kind of stony hail that started to pelt the area around Mt. Haruna, particularly to the northeast. Small ash pellets, some as large as an inch and a quarter in diameter, began to fall on the surrounding people and settlements. This was followed by a muddy rain—which is to say a rain that, rather than washing things clean, was so full of ash in the air that it left a film on everything it touched. People likely feared what this could mean—rocks and mud falling from the sky isn’t exactly an every day occurrence.
One man, likely an elite, who used their connection to the local kami as part of the justification of their status, decided to try to do something. He donned his lamellar armor—something not too dissimilar from what was being used on the Korean peninsula, and he went out to plead with the angry mountain to quiet its wrath.
Unfortunately for him, the rain of ash was only the beginning. A mixture of superheated rock and water, had been pushed out over the walls of the caldera, and was already flowing down towards the settlement at Kannai-Higashiura. This pyroclastic flow was the same thing that had both doomed and preserved the ancient city of Pompeii, and in a similar way it quickly covered the low-lying areas. Wood was set alight, and metal softened by the heat, men, women, and children attempted to flee, but this was not something you could outrun. Like an angry torrent, it rushed over the landscape, burning everything it touched, but also covering and preserving things close to the ground.
The elite warrior fell face first, likely overtaken by the wall of heat that the flow exuded. Others tried to shield themselves in ditches or behind walls, but it was no use. A wall, at least three meters high, collapsed and was likewise buried.
After a while, the flow stopped. Scars were burnt across the mountainside, and fires still raged, but the eruption itself had ended. Who knows how many lay dead or wounded in the aftermath. Trees had been cut down by the flow, let alone houses, walls, and other structures. Then there is also the question of what we don’t see. While Pompeii was covered in ash, nearby Herculaneum was suffocated by poisonous gasses. How many others survived the initial onslaught only to be overcome a short time after? It is hard to say since we only have that which was preserved, but we can assume that that what had only a short time before been a thriving community was now mostly gone, covered in ash and pumice. It is hard to believe that anyone who survived was not personally touched by such a tragedy.
And yet, humans are resourceful, and not easily deterred. We would not blame the locals for picking up stakes and moving away, abandoning any settlements on or around the mountain. And yet, some thirty years later, we see that people were still living in and around Mount Haruna. Unfortunately we know this because the mountain wasn’t quite finished, and three decades after that first eruption, the Mount Haruna once more erupted. This time, it threw up so much ash and pumice that there was still a layer three centimeters thick in modern Soma city, about 200 kilometers to the northeast. A little bit closer, at only 10 kilometers away, it buried a settlement at modern Kuroimine, across the Agatsuma river on the slopes of an adjacent mountain, under two meters of pumice, which accumulated in only a matter of hours.

As a result, from all of this, we do have a better idea of just what life was like in the 6th century—at least in this corner of the archipelago. We have rice fields buried under sediment. We have the remains of a woven fence, some three meters high. We have armor, in situ, as it was worn, and we have a ritual site that was apparently in use. Normally, such things are only recognizable from traces. Armor may be found in tombs, but details like how it was worn are often lacking. Grave goods in burials are an excellent insight into a culture, but are also inherently biased. They are items that were staged—whether for reasons of ceremony of sentimentality—often leaving us with questions, including how common they were and whether or not what we have was made for daily use or not. Even items in a rubbish pit were often deliberately placed there, and therefore out of context from the whole of how they were use.
Of course, we don’t have everything. The exceedingly high temperatures associated with pyroclastic flows and, well, anything having to do with a volcanic eruption, meant that much of the organic material burned, and metal melted and warped. Even just the physical pressure could have knocked things over and pushed them about, so it isn’t perfect, but some of what archaeologists have uncovered is pretty amazing.
Today, more than 1400 years later, we look on it as a godsend—a treasure trove of archaeological evidence that was preserved unlike almost any other in the archipelago. We talk in sanitized terms of tephra layers, Plinian eruptions, and pyroclastic flows, but meanwhile this was a real tragedy in the lives of the people who lived on and around the mountain. Lives were cut short, and the entire landscape of the area changed. So much rock fell from the sky that it crushed houses, and worse. In living memory of the first eruption, a second had hit. What kind of thoughts must have gone through the heads of the people of the area? How did they come to understand and grapple with this tragic period in their lives?
Such an event must have made an impression on people, and it was certainly wide ranging, impacting sites over 200 kilometers away. And yet, neither of these eruptions are found anywhere in the chronicles—there isn’t even a hint of them. Sure, some dude’s prized horse is worth mentioning, and even contact with people up in the far reaches of Koshi, on the island of Sado, are mentioned. And then there are various omens, such as the palace spontaneously catching fire. Wouldn’t this have been on par with such an event? A mountain blows its top, and nothing at all is written or said about it?
Sure, I could get that things like earthquakes and even typhoons were common enough that they were simply natural—if unfortunate—phenomenon. They weren’t regular enough to be tied to any kind of annual occurrence, and yet they no doubt happened with enough frequency that they were known events. So unless they were tied in with something directly relating to the story the Chroniclers were telling, why mention it?
Were volcanic eruptions that well known? Was it seen as a terrible, but natural event?
Or perhaps they didn’t know about it. Perhaps nobody sent a record or memorial up to Yamato. This seems unlikely as well. We already have this general area tied to Yamato through someone who served at the court of Wakatakiru no Ohokimi in the fifth century, and the court had clearly established Miyake, or royal granaries, in distant regions, such as Kochi, and no doubt out here as well.
That leaves me with just one thought: the court knew about such things, but it didn’t matter to the chroniclers. Perhaps there was some nefarious reason they wanted it kept out of the Chronicles, but more likely it was just not part of the story they were telling. The eruption would not have been visible from the Kinki region, and based on the layers of ash and pumice that fell, much of the impact of the eruption was felt north and east of Mount Haruna, so falling even further away from the Yamato court, in a mostly mountainous region that would have been relatively sparsely populated, at least compared to the low-lying plains that would have made for the better rice cultivation. Without an impact on the royal court and its families, this becomes a relative non-event.
And if something like this can go unnoticed in the Chronicles, what more was happening that we don’t even know about? Sure, certain areas garner our attention. Koshi, Owari, Harima, and even Kibi and northern Kyushu, or Tsukushi, on occasion. But like I said earlier, most of the stories center on the lands of Yamato and Kawachi. Even Yamashiro comes in only every once in a while, and rarely to we hear much from the areas south, such as the Kii peninsula, and pretty much nothing from the island we know as Shikoku. Truth be told, only a small portion of the Kofun era archipelago is ever truly discussed in any detail, leaving us to wonder just what was happening.
Fortunately, archaeology is helping to fill in some of those gaps, as well as helping us to make sense of what was happening elsewhere in the archipelago. This, in turn, raises more questions, and readjusts our understanding—sometimes supporting theories that we already knew, while at other times challenging what we thought we knew.
Some of what we know about the Mount Haruna eruptions comes from rescue archaeology, commissioned prior to a new construction project. Just like the Jomon era ritual site of Shakado was discovered during the construction of the Chuo Expressway, as mentioned way back in Episode 3, so too was the site of Kanai-Higashiura uncovered during excavations for the Joshin expressway. Fortunately for us, archaeology is rather popular in Japan, right down to the local level, and so the discovery of the site led to relatively extensive research and numerous articles on what was found. Researchers are continuing to review what was found and the context of the site..
Today, a fair amount of information can be found online via groups like the Gunma Arachaeological Research Foundation. While the pages are largely in Japanese, I encourage people to check out the reports on their website, which I’ll link to in the References section of the podcast blog page. There you can see some of the actual finds and even diagrams of reconstructions and the extent of the eruptions. For those who don’t speak Japanese, I’ll just say that machine translation has come a long way and while it often isn’t perfect, machine translation can be really useful to help get the gist of what is being discussed.
There is also literature to be found in various works talking as much about the geologic layers that were laid down during the two eruptions. The two tephra layers—the layers of ash and pumice that were ejected from Haruna and laid down across several hundred kilometers—provides archaeologists with relatively clear temporal markers, even in the absence of other identifying information, such as distinct pottery or other clues. They’ve even been able to use organic material at the sites to provide a fairly narrow range for when the two eruptions happened. The first was clearly in the early 6th century, while the other was about the mid 6th century, and they were likely only about 30 years apart from one another. In fact, the layers have distinct names: The Haruna-Futatsudake eruption and the Haruna-Ikaho eruption.
And, as I said, if you’d like to know more we will have various references up on our podcast blog, and you can do some digging on your own—pun, of course, intended. Or maybe take a trip out to Shibukawa and see the sites for yourself—along with a host of other archaeological and historical sites in the region and nearby.
Next, we will get into the reign of the sovereigns who followed Ame Kunioshi, as well as the court politics, not to mention the continued rise of Buddhism.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

-. -. 金井遺跡群. Gunma Archaeological Research Foundation. http://www.gunmaibun.org/kanaiura/. Last viewed on 5/31/2023.
-. -. 黒井峰遺跡:Kuroimine Iseki. Cultural Heritage Online. https://bunka.nii.ac.jp/heritages/detail/216059. Last viewed on 5/31/2023.
Okuno, Mitsuru, et al. (2019). Eruption age of the Haruna Futatsudake Pumice (Hr-FP), central Japan, by radiocarbon wiggle matching with special reference to a 14C dataset developed from a Japanese tree. Quaternary International, vol 527, 30 August 2019, pp. 29-33
-. -. (2018). Kanai Higashiura. Japanese Journal of Archaeology. https://archaeology.jp/remains/kanai-higashiura/. Last viewed on 5/31/2023.
早田勉. (1989).「 6世紀における榛名火山の2回の噴火とその災害」. 第四紀研究1989 年 27 巻 4 号 p. 297-312. https://doi.org/10.4116/jaqua.27.297

Episode 86: All the Other Stuff

May 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Sado Island, off the coast of Niigata prefecture, what was once the land of Koshi. Public domain photo by NASA taken from the ISS in 2021, downloaded from Wikimedia.

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A lot of random stuff in this one. For the most part I’ll put here some of the people and places we talk about in the episode, for those who want to follow along.

Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennō

A familiar name for anyone who has been following us: Ame Kunioshi is our current sovereign. Son of Wohodo no Ōkimi, he was the fourth sovereign in our current line-up, and the second generation of this dynasty. While he was on the throne, Nimna took Silla, and Buddhism was (probably) first introduced to Japan.

Soga no Iname no Sukune no Ōmi

Head of the Soga family, and one of the top three officials in the court of Ame Kunioshi. One thing to note: It is unclear how much that is attributed to him is accurate, as it is possible that some of this was later Soga attempts to prop up their ancestor, but still there seems little reason to doubt that his daughters married into the royal family, at least.

Ishihime

Ame Kunioshi’s primary wife, and daughter of his half-brother, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi no Ōkimi, aka Senka Tennō, and his primary wife, Tachibana Nakatsu, who was, herself, a daughter of Ōke no Ōkimi, aka Ninken Tennō. This made her Ame Kunioshi’s aunt, as well, because he was the daughter of her sister. She was also a sister to Ohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennō, the last sovereign of the preivous dynasty.

Yata no Tamakatsu

The eldest son of Ame Kunioshi and Ishihime. We don’t hear much about him other than his death, and that may seem odd unless you consider that he was probably the Crown Prince up until that point. His death would leave room for his brother.

Osada Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Nunakura is the younger son of Ame Kunioshi and Ishihime, and would come to the throne after Ame Kunioshi’s death. He is named Crown Prince after the death of his older brother, Yata no Tamakatsu

Kasanuhi (aka Satake) no Himemiko

Kasanuhi is the daughter of Ishihime and Ame Kunioshi, and the last of their three children.

Kitashi Hime

Daughter of Soga no Iname no Sukune no Ōmi, and one of the wives of Ame Kunioshi.

Wonane Gimi

Another daughter of Soga no Iname no Sukune no Ōmi, and also wife of Ame Kunioshi.

Takechi (or Takeuchi) no Sukune

The first “Prime Minister”, or Ōmi, and a descendant of Ōtarashi Hiko no Ōkimi, aka Keikō Tennō. He was a close confidant and supporter of Okinaga Tarashi Hime (aka Jingū Tennō) as well as her son, Homuda Wake (Ōjin Tennō). Many lineages would trace back to him, including the Heguri and the Soga.

Koshi no Kuni

The land of Koshi (越), which was later split up into various provinces such as Echizen (越前), Etchū (越中), and Echigo (越後), among others. It was along the Japan Sea side of Honshū. It comes up a lot in various records, usually on the periphery of the state.

Sushen / Mishihase (粛慎)

The term “粛慎” shows up in continental records talking about a Tungusic people on the mainland, so it is possible that it is these people that the Chroniclers are talking about. However, it is just as likely that they were some other Tungusic speaking people, or that they were jsut from “up north” just as the Sushen were “up north” from the lands of the Yellow River and Yangzi. There is some thought that they might be from the Okhotsk Culture, which inhabited northern Hokkaidō and the islands to the north. It is also possible they were from the Zoku-Jōmon, or Epi-Jōmon people of northern Tōhoku and Hokkaidō. These are both groups connected with the modern indigenous Ainu population.

The name is often glossed as “Mishihase” in Japanese, and it was used for groups in Tōhoku in later centuries, though it is unclear if they were actually related to the people in the Chronicles.

Sado Island

Sado Island is just off of the coast of modern Niigata prefecture. The island is shaped something like an “S” or a lightning bolt, with two mountain ridges and a valley in between. It has been inhabited for thousands of years, and was later a place of political exile.

Nivkh

A people indigenous to Sakhalin island, along with the Ainu who lived in the southern regions. Their language is a language isolate, meaning that there are no other languages that have been identified as close enough to be considered part of the same family.

Kawahara Tami no Atahe no Miya

We don’t know much but from the name, we can assume Miya was from Kawahara (or Kawara), possibly in Asuka, where Kawara Temple would one day be built. Of course, here he is just seen as a person buying a pretty incredible horse. Later it is said he lived in nearby Hinokuma, which would seem to strengthen that assessment.

Umakai no Omi no Utayori

Utayori was one of the Umakai no Omi (or Mumakahi no Omi, for another reading). This family shows up early on in the Chronicles having been the people in charge of raising the horses for the royal court. They bear the kabane of Omi, putting them, socially, on par with families like the Soga, although I would not say that they were equals at this point. Their position as being in charge of the “horse-keepers” may have something to do with the accusation regarding the queen’s saddle.

Umakai no Omi no Morishi and Umakai no Omi no Nasehi

Two sons of Utayori, who had been killed during torture to try to extract a confession—they were also considered guilty by association, apparently, and only at the last minute were they saved.

Hafuri

A hafuri is actually a job, basically one of the types of priests who handled the indigenous religion of the archipelago.

Michi no Ushi

A local ruler in the land of Koshi. We have seen other instances where it is thought that “no Ushi” became “Nushi”, and so it is likely that he was the ruler of a place called “Michi”.

Shibagaki

An area in Hase (or Hatsuse): a river valley that flows into the southeast Nara Basin, it was probably a place to go and hunt and get away from the day-to-day at the palace.

Yamato no Aya no Atahe no Arako

One of two people sent to meet the Goguryeo envoys in Koshi. “Yamato no Aya no Atahe” is the name of one of the branches of the “Aya” family, which were likely weavers brought over from the continent, originally. In this case it appears to be the Aya of Yamato, though they just use the character for “East”, and they were apparently rather prolific in and around the court. His name, Arako, or “Child of Ara”, makes me wonder if there was a connection to the peninsular state of “Ara”, though I believe they used different characters.

Katsuraki no Atahe no Naniwa

The Katsuraki family has a history of dealing with foreigners, and may have even come from the peninsula themselves, tracing back to one of the few names that may be found in the Korean sources: Katsuraki no Sotsuhiko. The name “Naniwa” is interesting, and I don’t know if that was truly a given name or just where he was from.

Sagaraka (or Saganaka)

An area in Yamashiro, possibly near Saganaka Shrine, which uses the same characters (相樂), though it is hard to know for certain. That is just north of modern Nara city.

Kashiwade no Omi no Katabeko

A member of the Kashiwade no Omi family who was actually the one to retrieve the Goguryeo envoys and to whom Michi no Ushi gave reverence, exposing that he was not the sovereign, because why else would he bow like that to someone else?

Kose no Omi no Saru and Kishi no Akabato

Little is known other than they were apparently taking a barge to fetch the Goguryeo envoys.

Yamato no Aya no Saka no Ue no Atahe no Komaro

This name is a mouthful, but it still breaks down into fairly reasonable chunks. So “Yamato no Aya” is one part, and we addressed this before. “Saka no Uhe” is probably another locative, so they are from the Yamato Aya in Saka no Uhe, or something similar. “Atahe” is the family kabane for Yamato no Aya. And then “Komaro” is his actual name. He is sent to be the one to “entertain” the Goguryeo envoys, so likely he was taking care of everything they needed at their residence.

Nishikori no Obito no Ōshi (or Ōishi)

This is the other person sent with Komaro. Nishikori no Obito is the family name and kabane and then their name is Ōshi or Ōishi (大石).

Wang Jinnie

We talked about him and his family last episode. Sometimes referred to as Ō Chin’ni, or something similar, his name appears to be Sinic from somewhere on the continent. That likely explains how he was able to assist so much with the Goguryeo envoys.

Tsunoga Arashito

Another example of someone coming from the peninsula, a local ruler trying to impersonate the Yamato sovereign, and then arriving after the sovereign passed away, except that he was back in the era of Mimaki and Ikume Iribiko.

Kibi no Atahe no Naniwa

Named similar to Katsuraki no Naniwa, above. He was supposed to return shipwrecked envoys from Goguryeo.

Iwahi and Masa

Two of Kibi no Atahe no Naniwa’s men who accompanied envoys back to Goguryeo.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. This is Episode 86: All the Other Stuff
This episode I want to finish up the events of Ame Kunioshi’s reign. We’ve been following Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tenno, for a while and covered perhaps the things that he was remembered for most, as well as the two most large-scale disruptive things that happened around the time of his reign. First of these disruptions was everything going on on the continent, and the consensus appears to be that at this point we truly get into a period where the Korean peninsula is under the authority and control of the three main states—Baekje and Silla in the south, and Goguryeo in the north. Silla’s own power was on the rise—whereas it was always counted as something of a local power, it had gained enough might to take over the various statelets in its orbit, and with ambitions for more.
The second disruption, which we’ve covered in the last two episodes, is the arrival of Buddhism to Japan. As we noted, it is likely that Buddhism had come to the islands earlier, but it is in this reign—or slightly earlier—that it shows up in the historical record and is counted as something of interest to the court. We’ll follow up on this over the course of the next several reigns, as Buddhism, and its connection with the Soga family, play a large part in this period.
Speaking of the Soga Family, they once again tie in to what we’re going to focus on in the rest of this episode: the nitty-gritty of the rest of Ame Kunioshi’s reign, when we’re not focused on Buddhism or the continent. As we alluded to previously, the rise of Soga no Iname is another key factor of the politics at the time. The Ohotomo had had their moment at the top, and the Mononobe were still going strong, but Soga no Iname appears more and more in the record. Of course, all of this is based on a narrative compiled by members of the court centuries later, and so we should just keep in mind that we aren’t reading about all the things that happened, but just those things that were considered important to telling the story of Yamato and, perhaps even moreso, those things considered important to telling the story of the royal family.
Some of these entries make perfect sense in that context and others, well, not so much. I’ll do my best to make sense of it, but some of it may require more study and scholarship than I have time and access to, and if you have any thoughts, feel free send them in.
So let’s start with the biographical info. First, we have Ame Kunioshi’s queen, Ishihime. Just as Wohodo had married Tashiraka, a daughter of Ohoke no Ohokimi, aka Ninken Tennou, Ame Kunioshi’s queen, Ishihime, was also the daughter of a previous sovereign. In this case, though, she was technically Ame Kunioshi’s niece, as she was the daughter of his half-brother, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi no Ohokimi, aka Senka Tennou, but that just meant they continued the tradition of keeping it in the family.
Ishihime had two sons and one daughter. The eldest was Yata no Tamakatsu, presumably Ame Kunioshi’s Crown Prince, and then there was his younger brother, Wosada Nunakura Futodamashiki. They also had a sister, Kasanuhi, aka Satake.
Besides Ishihime, Ame Kunioshi is mentioned as having two other consorts. Kitashi Hime and Wonane-gimi, both daughters of Soga no Iname, the Oho-omi. Between them they gave birth to 11 sons and 7 daughters. Significantly, and without getting into too much detail, Kitashi Hime would give birth to three of the next four sovereigns, meaning that the Soga family would have their immediate relatives on the throne for over forty years.
By the way, to make that work out, at least according to the rules of succession that the Nihon Shoki seems to imply, the Soga family itself would need to be of imperial descent – and indeed, it is traced back to Takeuchi no Sukune, and through him to Ohotarashi Hiko no Ohokimi, aka Keikou Tennou. Of course, there is a lot of speculation in that lineage, and it was probably simply made up to help legitimize the Soga family and their royal offspring. On the flip side, Ishihime, Ame Kunioshi’s primary wife and the one recognized as Queen by the Nihongi, who would also produce a future sovereign, was clearly tied in to the royal lineage through maternal links to Ohoke no Ohokimi, aka Ninken Tennou.
There were a few other consorts, but I’m not going to go into every single one other than to say that Ame Kunioshi was clearly prolific—or a lot of lineages wanted to connect themselves back to him. He was quite popular, I guess.
Many of these consorts may have been taken before he was even sovereign. Tradition holds that he was born in 509 and came to the throne in 539, so already thirty years old. Of course some have tried to push that back, and if you recall, the previous sovereigns were supposedly just keeping the throne warm for him, something I don’t quite buy given his age when he finally did ascend. That assumes that the dates are correct, which is a rather big assumption.
So five years after Ame Kunioshi takes the throne, we have the first somewhat oddball event. It was a report from the land of Koshi, which, for those who don’t remember, is the area north of the Japan Alps on the Japan sea side of Honshu, from roughly the area of Ishikawa up to the Tohoku region. So, facing the continent and the peninsula – and apparently, in this year, there were men of Sushen who arrived on Sado Island, at Cape Minabe.
Sado Island is part of modern Niigata prefecture, sitting just a little to the west of modern Niigata city. It had been populated since at least the Jomon period, and in later centuries it would become a place of exile for powerful individuals who were on the political outs. In the Edo period they discovered gold and silver and there was a booming mining industry out there, and you can still go visit some of the old mines today. So that’s the first important thing about this report: it brings Sado into the picture, historically. Sado and the far reaches of Koshi—the influence of Yamato would seem to have grown.
Furthermore, who these unexpected arrivals to Sado were seems to be of some contention. The kanji used are the same that the continental records used for people called Sushen, who are believed to have been a Tungusic people living on the continent of Northeast Asia, possibly up towards modern Siberia. The Japanese, however, gave these characters a different gloss, pronouncing them as “Mishihase”. It is possible that the Mishihase were also Tungusic, or from a similar region of Northeast Asia, and hence the Japanese used the same characters. Or it is possible that they reused a name from the continental records for people living in the north of Japan or in the Okhostk Sea. I’ve seen suggestions that these were related to the Nivkh people or the Okhostk Culture from northern Hokkaido and Sakhalin islands.
The name “Mishihase” is interesting, because at this time, we know that there were a group of people that Yamato referred to as the Emishi living in the far Kanto regions and up into Tohoku. Many of the encounters with the Emishi in the Chronicles, however, appears to take place in regions that had at least transitioned to rice agriculture during the expansion of Yayoi culture, which had once reached up into the northern reaches of Tohoku before settling in the southern parts of Tohoku and down to Kyushu. Above that, archaeological evidence suggests that there was a continuation of Jomon culture, referred to generally as the Epi-Jomon or Zoku-Jomon, which existed in northern Tohoku and Hokkaido until the 7th century, when the cord-marked pottery gave way to a new type of scraped pottery, called Satsumon. Generally speaking the peoples of this area would all be lumped together by Yamato as Emishi, though there is some evidence of the use of the term “Saheki” as well and a few other local ethnonyms that pop up here and there.
The Okhotsk culture appears to have been north even of the Epi-Jomon and eventual Satsumon cultures, and may be related to the modern Nivkh people, who are indigenous to northern Sakhalin. I would note, however, that the Nivkh language is not Tungusic, but rather it is considered a language isolate, so these are not likely the Sushen of the continental records, but ancient people of Sakhalin may have been identified as such by the Yamato court, who simply saw them as being in a similar geographic relationship to Yamato.
Of course, it is also possible that a Tungusic people did take a ship and possibly sail out from the Amur river region, which enters the sea near the northern end of Sakhalin island, or some point north, and that they landed at Sado island, but much more likely it was someone from northern Tohoku, Hokkaido, or even Sakhalin. The Japanese would use the term “Mishihase” for a variety of people through the centuries, much as they would use the term “Emishi”, which makes this hard to pin down.
Wherever these people were from, they apparently arrived during the Spring and Summer and to catch fish for food, and the locals did what humans throughout history have done: They greeted them with open arms and welcomed them to their settlement. Oh, wait, scratch that. Nope, they decided that these people were different enough that they must not be human, called them devils, and refused to go near them. And so began what must have been quite the spring and summer as the locals of Sado kept watch on these strange fishermen, but from a nice, safe distance.
They may have had reason to be wary. At a village called Umu, the people had gathered acorns and covered them with ash. You see, acorns, for all that they seem to be the favorite of squirrels and other such woodland critters, are actually not all that great to eat. Sure, once you remove the cap and outer seed covering, they contain a lot of great nutrients, but many times they are also full of tannic acid. This is the same thing used to tan animal hides, so you can imagine that it might do a number to your insides, and it is rather astringent at that. That bitter taste is normally a clue that you probably shouldn’t eat too much of something.
Thousands of years ago, however, people learned a neat trick, and this seems to have been discovered independently in multiple areas. If the acorns are soaked in ash—often a mixture of ash and water—you can actually leach out the tannins in the acorns. After that, if you wash them and leave them to dry, there is a lot you can do with them, including creating a kind of acorn flour.
This is likely what the people of Umu were doing when the shells of the acorns turned into two men. The images of these men hovered about a foot over the fire and suddenly they started to fight. The villagers broke up the fight and took the shells to a courtyard, where they started to do the same thing. Based on this strange omen, combined with the general human mistrust of outsiders, the people of Umu determined that the strangers meant them harm. Sure enough, the fishermen showed up at the village soon after and plundered it.
Now I can’t say I put much stock in this supernatural fight night, but a lot of this general story seems to be reasonable enough. Fishermen from the Japan Sea or even the Sea of Okhostk could easily have made their way south along the coasts, looking for new and better fishing spots. A local village, particularly one more interested in harvesting the bounty of the land than the bounty of the sea, may have chosen to just ignore the strangers and hope they would go away. And of course, either side could have just as easily raided the other if they felt up to it—no supernatural explanation needed.
Eventually the foreigners apparently settled at Senagawa Bay—probably one of the areas of Sado Island—where it is said that there was a kami that lived there called “Mishihase no Kuma”, or the “Bear of the Mishihase”, or “Sushen”. It is said that anyone who tried to drink the water at Senagawa Bay would immediately drop dead, and that the bones of unfortunate travelers littered the spot.
It isn’t that hard to imagine an area near the shore with an apparently inviting stream or other water source that turned out to be less than ideal, and certainly a story like this could have been a local tradition, handed down to ensure that nobody gave in to temptation. In a place like Japan I suspect that there are all sorts of things that could have gotten into a water source and been largely undetectable.
The name of the kami though is particularly interesting, at least to me. Mishihase no Kuma. As we mentioned, the kanji for “Sushen” is often read in Japanese as “Mishihase”, and “kuma” is bear. Furthermore, we know that the modern Ainu, the indigenous people of Hokkaido and northern Honshu, are known for their close association with bears in their religious worship, including a somewhat controversial bear ritual, known as Iomante, that was once outlawed, but has deep roots in some Ainu cultural practices. Likewise there are also bear connections with the Nivkh people and others in northeast Asia and Siberia, so it doesn’t seem too farfetched that people from Hokkaido or points north would be associated with a bear kami. Then again, it could be coincidence. Bears show up across multiple cultures. But in short: although the Chronicles say that the kami was already present, it’s easy to imagine that an area settled by visitors from a different culture to the north could have left a stamp on the area such that those cultural differences were preserved in the local lore about the area’s kami, and back-dated to time immemorial.
So that covers the goings-on in Sado. Two years later, in 546, the court received another report, but this one was from closer to home, from Imaki, in Yamato. Apparently two years earlier—so around the same year that the report from Cape Minabe came in—there was a man named Kawahara Tami no Atahe no Miya, and he bought a horse. Well, okay, it wasn’t quite that simple. Miya was apparently in the upper story of a building, looking out, when he noticed a horse. Now this horse was bred from the mares which transported food offerings from the fishermen of Kii to the sovereign’s own table. As Miya was watching this young horse, it suddenly saw a shadow, which caused it quite the fright—not entirely surprising, as horses are notoriously skittish. What was surprising, though, was how the horse let out a great neigh and suddenly leapt completely over its mothers back.
Miya immediately knew he had to have that horse, and he went down and bought it right there on the spot. Later people marveled at the horse, which was tame and broken, but a different temperament than most. Anyone who has worked with horses will tell you that they each can have very different personalities, much like people. This horse was special, however, as its leaping days were far from over. In fact, it is said that it once leapt over a ravine at Ouchi that was said to be 180 feet wide. That’s more than half a football field in length—and that’s regardless of if you are talking about soccer or American hand-egg, though maybe not quite Aussie rules.
Alright, so Miya has an awesome horse. Great. Why do we care? In fact, why do we care about any of this? The report from Sado – Koshi – had at least added somewhat to the court’s scope: it mentioned another people, put them in relationship to the Center of Yamato, and demonstrated Yamato’s far-flung reach that they were even getting reports from as far away as Sado Island. But Miya and his horse were close to home, so why this report was noteworthy is less obvious. Okay, so there is the mention of the tribute from Kii, which was a kind of food tax sent in to the Yamato court, which may have been something that the Chroniclers wanted to note for some reason. There may be a few other things going on, though.
For one, Miya is said to have lived in or near Hinokuma. And his name, Kawahara, is also the name of the location of one of the early temples in the Asuka area. The Asuka area, of course, was where the Soga family were dominant, and would play a large role as the location of different palaces and, eventually, Buddhist temples. So it is possible that this was all related geographically to the region, to the Soga, and, through the Soga’s political marriages and influence on the court, to the royal lineage.
This is speculation on my part, however. It is also possible that it had something to do with the horses, and possibly even with the way that they were described on the continent in nearly mythical terms. It wasn’t enough to get a horse, but it had to be a horse of particularly good stock and breeding. Who knows, maybe we’ll see connections that make more sense later in the Chronicles, as sometimes these kinds of Chekovian guns don’t go off until several reigns later—if at all.
Like the story of Miya and his horse, many of the other accounts of this period have to do with various individuals and some of it makes a lot more sense in terms of the Chroniclers’ ambitions. For instance, in 552 we are told that Prince Yata no Tamakatsu no Ohoye no Miko died. It is a short entry, and we really hadn’t encountered Yata no Tamakatsu much before this, other than seeing that he was the eldest son of Ame Kunioshi and his queen, Ishihime. In fact, that appears to be what is meant by “Ohoye” in his name. That likely means he was also the Crown Prince, although he is never named as such. This is par for the course in the narrative up to this point, though—Crown Princes who don’t succeed to the throne are rarely named as such unless there was something else that they did.
Sure enough, two years later, Nunakura Futodamashiki, Yata no Tamakatsu’s younger brother, is named Crown Prince. He would eventually succeed to the throne, and is remembered today as Bidatsu Tennou.
Speaking of death, things were not great in the archipelago during this time. Remember how in 552 they said that Buddhism had come, and then also been rejected, because of a pestilence? Well apparently it wasn’t just disease that hit because flooding came, and that brought with it famine.
Japan is no stranger to heavy rains. In fact, even today the islands experience hurricanes, or “taifuu”, in Japanese, bringing tremendous rain and winds. Even without the winds, though, rains can come that wash out hillsides and flood rivers and valleys. An “Ooyu”, or Big Rain, is nothing to sneeze at in the mountainous islands of Japan, so it is quite believable that a particularly heavy rainy season, coming after years of pestilence, might have brought extensive damage across the land. The Chronicles claim that it got so bad that some people even resorted to cannibalism.
Fortunately the Yamato court officials were learning a phrase that may strike fear into the hearts of anti-establishment types everywhere: “We’re from the government, and we’re here to help.” Except, in this case they absolutely were. All of those taxes that had been acquired in the form of rice payments had been collected and stored in granaries, which not only helped to pay for the various public works that the court wanted to undertake, like setting up their base in Kyushu, but now they could literally just open up the granaries and feed people. And that’s what they did. The royal granaries helped alleviate the hunger so that people could get through the year.
Of course, just because people were able to eat and get on with their lives didn’t mean that death wasn’t still an ever-present threat. Granted, not everyone gets their own obituary in the Chronicles, but those in the elite circles often were considered worth a note. Sure enough, in 570, we are told that Soga no Iname, the Oho-omi, died, just one year before the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, would also pass away.
Soga no Iname’s death was no doubt a big event; he was the head of a power family and the Oho-omi, or Great Minister. Not only is he connected with the first instance of Buddhism in the archipelago, but, once again, two of his daughters had married Ame Kunioshi, and while it may not have been known at the time, the Chroniclers certainly knew the importance of this figure who would have at least three grandchildren take the throne. On top of that, his own son, Soga no Umako, would succeed him a couple of years later, and he would be close with another Soga relative, the prince Umayado, or the Prince of the Stable Door. But we’ll get to him in a later episode.
Before we finish there are two other entries that I want to touch on. I mentioned this is somewhat random right?
The first event is the Slander of Utayori. So here we are told that in the 6th month of 562, a person—we don’t know who—slandered a man named Umakahi no Omi no Utayori. They claimed that they had seen his wife with a new saddle that looked suspiciously like the Queen’s saddle. I guess that the charge was that he had stolen the queen’s saddle, or possibly made a replica of it. I’m not entirely sure.
Either way, the court was not happy and so they sent someone to investigate. Of course, this was centuries before Sherlock Holmes, or even before the famous Judge Dee, and so investigative methods were more like harsh interrogation, to the point of torture, to get a confession. You may recall back in Episode 60 something similar happened when the envoys from Silla had come to pay their respects upon the death of Woasatsuma Wakugo no Ohokimi, aka Ingyou Tennou, and the then prince Ohohatsuse Wakatake, later known as Yuryaku Tenno, had basically arrested and interrogated them after a misunderstanding, creating a bit of an international incident.
Of course, at this time, there was no concept of “Innocent until proven guilty”. As I believe I’ve mentioned before, there was a general belief that if someone was accusing you of something then even if you weren’t truly guilty of that particular crime you must have done something to upset the social balance, or else why would someone accuse you and risk their own reputation? The fact that many people would confess under such conditions just to get the interrogation to stop is unsurprising—modern studies have shown that information gained through torture as an interrogation technique is highly suspect, despite how much the movies like to use it.
In this case, however, Utayori wouldn’t break. He maintained his innocence throughout the entire interrogation, until he eventually died in custody.
Now when this happened, there were apparently numerous calamities at the Palace, though since there was no Buddhist threat, the Mononobe and Nakatomi seem to have stayed quiet about it all. In fact, they were either seen as not connected at all or that somehow it was just more proof that Utayori was guilty, because Utayori’s sons, Morishi and Nasehi were then arrested. They were sentenced to be “cast into the fire”, which was apparently an ancient form of execution, akin to burning at the stake, though the officer tasked with this duty was apparently reluctant to do so. I guess at least someone had been paying attention.
This concerned officer himself received a reprieve when Utayori’s wife, the two sons’ mother, appeared and she made a kind of curse-prayer promise-threat. She said, “If my children are to be flung into the fire, surely a great calamity will follow. Therefore I beseech thee to hand them over to the Hafuri to be a slave in service to the gods.”
Given her ardent prayer—and perhaps others wondering about the calamities, not to mention how much Utayori had protested his own innocence—the sons of Utayori had their sentences commuted and instead they were forced to work for the hafuri, or priests, likewise toiling for the upkeep of a shrine or similar religious institution.
This whole episode seems rather odd. The accuser is never named. Utayori seems to be clearly innocent from the Chronicle’s point of view—it doesn’t exactly do the ancient justice system any favors. It is fortunate, for us, however, as it gives us another glimpse into how things apparently operated in ancient Yamato.
Finally, we are at our last story from this reign, and it is interesting not just because of some of the implications for foreign relations, but also because it spanned the course of two reigns. The story starts in the fourth month of 570, and it once again it takes place in Koshi of all places. Apparently ships carrying envoys from Goguryeo had gone significantly off-course and landed all the way up there. How exactly they’d gotten there isn’t clear. Had they come down the normal route, and somehow missed the straits and the entrance to the Seto Inland Sea? Or had they sailed off the eastern coast of the Korean peninsula, perhaps in an attempt to find another way to Japan. Seafaring ships were apparently getting better. By 512, Silla had annexed the island of Uleung, which had been inhabited since ancient times, but is still a staggering 120 kilometers, or 75 miles, east of the Korean peninsula. Still, that is not nearly as far as crossing the Korea strait, which is about 200 kilometers, or 120 miles, if you avoid island hopping along the way. Not that such distances can’t be crossed, but it is just rather significant, so when they say that they had lost their way, that seems accurate.
The envoys also didn’t seem to know much about the geography of the archipelago. Certainly, they weren’t the first from Goguryeo in Japan—there had been earlier immigrants, including a group that ended up in Kyushu and were eventually resettled in Yamashiro. But these envoys landed somewhere in Koshi, and there they met with a local ruler, Michi no Ushi, who claimed to be the true sovereign of Yamato, accepting the tribute that the Goguryeo envoys had brought with them.
Of course, this caused a bit of a problem as word of the envoys’ arrival was not exactly kept a state secret, and word quickly spread down to the actual Yamato court of their arrival, though that was delayed a bit as the court was on vacation. Ame Kunioshi and the entire court had gone down to Shibagaki, in Hase, possibly for hunting or some other such excursion, and so it wasn’t until they got back that they sent off Yamato no Aya no Atahe no Arako and Katsuraki no Atahe no Naniwa to go up and meet with the envoys and bring them down. In the meantime, they also began to prepare accommodations for them in Sagaraka in Yamashiro.
By the 5th month, it was Kashiwade no Omi no Katabeko who was the one to first meet the envoys. He came to the mansion of Michi no Ushi, who recognized a representative of the Yamato court and prostrated himself in front of him. At this point the Goguryeo envoys realized that something was up, and that they had apparently made something of a mistake. They demanded that Michi no Ushi return the tribute that they had given him. Katabeko helped arrange all of that and then went back to the court with word of where things stood.
Once the tribute was gathered up, the envoys proceeded on foot down from the Japan Sea coast to Afumi, aka Lake Biwa. With all of the preparations required, they arrived in the 7th month of that year, three months since they had first landed. There they were met by Kose no Omi and Kishi no Akabato, who had come upriver with a decorative barge from the port of Naniwa. They hauled it up to Mount Sasanami, and met the envoys at Kitayama, the North Mountain, in Afumi. From there they traveled downriver, finally arriving at the official residence of Komahi in Yamashiro. From there, they were handed off to Yamato no Aya no Saka-no-Uhe no Atahe no Komaro and Nishikori no Obito no Ohoshi, who took them to the official residence of Sagaraka, which had been prepared for them.
Now I know there are a lot of names in this, but bear with me. For one, there are a lot of Yamato no Aya, one of the groups of Aya, descended from continental weavers, and probably still considered to have continental ties. Then there is the “Nishikori” reference, which is another family that will show up with some ties to mainland traditions.
It is interesting to see how many people were involved in all of this, but also how long it took. It was at least three months from the time they arrived to getting them settled into an official residence. And they sat there for a while, likely until a schedule could be set for their audience with Ame Kunioshi. Unfortunately, before that could happen, tragedy struck. The Nihon Shoki claims that at some point the sovereign took to his bed, sick and ill at ease, and then, in the 4th month of the following year, 571, he passed away.
Nunakura, the Crown Prince, would take on the mantle of sovereign. And after seeing his father buried in Hinokuma, of all places, one of his first orders of business was to greet the Goguryeo envoys and apologize for their long wait—still, the burial of Ame Kunioshi and the ceremonies for enthronement—as well as setting up or confirming court officials, such as the new Oho-omi, Soga no Umako—amust have taken some time, as it was now 572, some two years since the envoys had arrived in the archipelago.
Besides the tribute, the envoys also brought a memorial from Goguryeo—a letter from their sovereign to the sovereign of Yamato, but none of the scribes could read it, not even the envoys, apparently. The memorial wasn’t just a piece of paper, after all—instead, the Goguryeo king had his message inscribed on black crows’ feathers, and then the memorial was brushed on in black ink. Unfortunately—or perhaps deliberately—this made the message a little difficult to read, as it was black on black, and just making out the characters was tough. Here’s where a little continental ingenuity came in to play, for it was none other than Wang Jinnie, whom we talked about last episode, who had a solution.
You may recall that Wang Jinnie was an ally of the Soga family. He had been made the Funa no Fubito, or recorder of ships, by Soga no Iname, and Soga no Iname and his son, Umako, had also played a roll in the advancement of at least two of his sons. Jinnie used a trick where he held the feathers in the steam of boiling rice, and then pressed the feathers to paper to transfer the letters, which could then be read. For this he received high praise from Nunakura no Ohokimi and from the new Oho-omi, Soga no Umako. Jinnie was also able to provide a translation of the memorial, which we assume was the standard diplomatic jargon, as no copy of it is given in the record.
Their message delivered, back at the residence, the Chief Envoy from Goguryeo had apparently berated his assistance. He was pissed at the debacle of the whole thing. Not only had they gone off course, but the tribute had been delivered to the wrong person! Sure, they had eventually sorted things out, but it was no doubt a huge embarrassment.
This left his entourage in a bit of a pickle. As they had delivered the tribute and the memorial, it would soon be time for them to return home, and once they got there, the Chief Envoy’s report would no doubt be the end of their careers—and possibly even their lives if they were held liable for embarrassing their king and country like that. And so they were resolved that the only way they could go home is if the Chief Envoy was not with them, and they decided, then and there, to kill him.
The Chief Envoy got wind of the attack, but it was too late, and he didn’t know what to do. He headed out into the courtyard of the official residence where they were staying. As soon as he was out in the open, one of the assassins ran out, hit him with a club, and then disappeared again. Then someone came from his righthand side and struck him with another club. Then someone rushed in and stabbed him with a sword in the belly and ran off. As the Chief Envoy fell to his knees, prostrating himself and begging for his life, yet another assailant rushed out from the darkness and finished him off.
The body was found the next morning. The official entertainer, Yamato no Aya no Saka-no-uhe no Atahe no Komaro, who had been given the duty back in the reign of Ame Kunioshi, heard about it and asked what had happened. According to the various Associate Envoys, they claimed that the Chief Envoy had been “disobedient”. They said that he had disrespected Nunakura by refusing a wife that the sovereign had presented, and the Associate Envoys were so embarrassed by this that they killed him to make up for the snub.
This seems to have satisfied the Yamato court, who buried the Chief Envoy with full honors and sent the rest of the delegation on its way.
This whole episode is interesting, and seems plausible. There likely were the unfortunate times that diplomatic missions went astray, and they could stay at a foreign court for months or years. After all, it wasn’t like there were regular flights back and forth, and courts had to expect a long lag time between communications.
There is also an interesting parallel here with the story of Tsunoga Arashito, whom we discussed in episode 30. Prince Tsunoga was supposedly descended from the King of Great Kara, rather than Goguryeo, and he is said to have arrived during the time of Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tennou. Like the Goguryeo envoys, the local ruler of the place where he stopped—in that case Anato—claimed that he was the ruler of Yamato, but rather than stopping, he continued around the northern coast, past Izumo, and eventually down to Yamato that way. By the time he did all of that, though, Mimaki Iribiko had died and his son, Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tennou, had taken the throne and was the one to receive him.
Either this act of impersonating the ruler of Yamato was not exactly a new trick, or the Chroniclers were possibly borrowing some details between stories. It is hard to say for sure, but certainly worth a look.
This was not the last that the archipelago would see of Goguryeo envoys. In the following year, another group of envoys came through Koshi. Unfortunately there was an accident, and their ship was wrecked and many of them drowned—probably along with any tribute. The court itself was starting to get a little suspicious about all of this, as it was the second time they’d had problems and come through the northern ports. Rather than entertaining them—possibly because the tribute and any memorial were lost—the court sent Kibi no Atahe no Naniwa to escort the envoys back home.
Two months later, Naniwa was up in Koshi and had acquired two ships. Two of Naniwa’s men, Iwahi and Masa, were sent aboard the Goguryeo boat, while two of the envoys traveled with Naniwa, a not-uncommon hostage situation for the time. However, several leagues out, the waves started getting rough. Naniwa grew scared, and in order to calm the waves he yeeted his hostages overboard—either to appease the kami or possibly to get rid of bad luck that they had brought with them. At that point there was no way that he could show up in Goguryeo and explain what had happened, and so he turned around. Back in Yamato he gave a whole story of how a Whale and other fish had risen up and were preventing any boat from rowing out, and so that is why they were in Goguryeo at the moment.
However, the problem with lies is that you often have to face the truth, eventually. In this case, retribution came in the form of yet another diplomatic mission. When the envoys arrived at the court, they brought back their guests, Iwahi and Masa, who had been treated as befitted envoys of a foreign land, and they asked about what had happened to the men on the other ship.
Nunakura, who hadn’t quite trusted Naniwa’s account in the first place, was now positive that Naniwa had thrown the envoys over and then lied to cover it up. And so we are told that Naniwa was punished, which probably meant that he was put to death.
And that about wraps up the stories of the Goguryeo envoys. Regardless of anything else, we can see that Yamato is in regular diplomatic contact with various peninsular powers, at the very least. And we are now into the reign of Nunakura no Ohokimi, aka Bidatsu Tennou. And we’ll get to him, but next episode I might try something a little different.
You see, for the most part we are following what we have in various Chronicles, but there is a lot that the Chronicles don’t go into. For one thing, there are day-to-day items that just don’t get mentioned, but even larger events that seem to go unnoticed. We’ll talk about one such event with the two eruptions of Mt. Haruna, and we’ll talk about how some of the picture is being made clearer through the work of archaeology.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 85: The Buddha Comes to Japan

May 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Sun setting over the hills that form part of the valley around Asuka. In the 6th century this was the territory of the Soga family, and the location of some of the earliest known Buddhist temples in Japan.

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This episode we look at the first attempt to establish Buddhism in Japan, and even though it may have had a rough go of it, this is generally considered to be the start of Japanese Buddhism and also, by some accounts, the true start of the Asuka period, which was characterized by the rise of Buddhism and Buddhist institutions, among other things.

Who’s Who

Ame Kunioshi no Ōkimi, aka Kimmei Tennō

The current sovereign in our narrative. It is unclear when, exactly his reign started and even the role he played vice the various other ministers. This is further brought into question due to the clear attempts by the Chroniclers to portray him as more powerful and involved than he may have actually been.

Soga no Iname no Sukune

Soga no Iname is perhaps one of the most active participants in this narrative. He is the head of the Soga family and the current Ōmi. We know that he resided in the area of Oharida and Mukuhara, in modern Asuka area. He was the first Soga no Ōmi mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, and he hits the ground running. While many previous Ōmi are less than prominent figures in the narrative, Soga no Iname is clearly doing the most with his time in office. In addition to his official position, he had also manuevered two of his daughters into marrying Ame Kunioshi, meaning that he had a very good chance to play grandfather to future sovereigns, or at least members of the royal family.

The Soga family is later said to descend from Takeuchi no Sukune and Ishikawa no Sukune, though this is questionable. More reasonable is the lineage from Soga no Machi to Soga no Karako and Soga no Kōma down to Soga no Iname.

Mononobe no Okoshi

At this point in the story, Mononobe no Okoshi was Ōmuraji, the head of the Mononobe house. He had a powerful lineage, being descended from preivous Ōmuraji who had held the position since at least the time of Wakatake no Ōkimi back in the 5th century.

Wang Jinnie and his children

Wang Jinnie (aka “Ō Shinni” or “Ō Chinni”) is something of an enigmatic figure. He shows up a few times, but his surname name (王) would appear to mark him as having come from the continent. He seems to be involved with recording ships and other such administrative tasks. He has a son, Itsu—or possibly something like “Danchin”, if you use the old Chinese reading—also has a role to play.

Immigrants provided the Yamato court an extremely useful population. They were generally skilled in various arts and technologies, including the technology of government. And so they understood how to read and write and what was necessary to administer different parts of the state. At the same time, immigrants would not necessarily have the same local or regional ties in the archipelago. Members of established families would have ties to the land and the people, which made them useful for administering those areas, but also made them potential threats. Despite what the Chronicles would like us to believe, the central authority was not yet that solidified, and succession could still be an issue.

In such a climate, it is relatively easy to see how immigrants could be useful as they would not have the same political baggage attached to them as members of the local elite.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 85: The Buddha Comes to Japan.
Last couple episodes we’ve talked about Buddhism. We talked about its origins in the Indian subcontinent, with the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha, and how those teachings spread out from India to Gandhara, and then followed the trade routes across the harsh deserts of the Tarim Basin, through the Gansu corridor, and into the Yellow and Yangzi River Valleys. From there the teachings made it all the way to the Korean peninsula, and to the country of Baekje, Yamato’s chief ally on the peninsula.
This episode we’ll look at how Buddhism came to the archipelago and its initial reception there. For some of this we may need to span several reigns, as we’ll be looking at events from early to late 6th century. This is also about more than just religion, and so we may need to dive back into some of the politics we’ve covered up to this point as well. Hopefully we can bring it all together in the end, but if it is a bit of a bumpy ride, just hang with me for a bit.
So let’s start with the official account in the Nihon Shoki, which we already mentioned two episodes ago: the first mention of Buddhism in the Chronicles. The year was 552, or the 13th year in the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou. That winter, during the 10th month—which was probably closer to December or January on a modern calendar—King Seongmyeong of Baekje had a special gift for his counterpart, the sovereign of Yamato. By this time there are numerous accounts of gifts to Yamato, generally in conjunction with the Baekje-Yamato alliance and Baekje’s requests for military support in their endeavors on the peninsula, generally framed in the Yamato sources as centering on the situation of the country of Nimna.
In this case, the gift was a gilt-bronze image of Shakyamuni Buddha, several flags and umbrellas, and a number of volumes of Buddhist sutras. King Seongmyeong sent a memorial explaining his intent: “This doctrine” (aka Buddhism) “is amongst all doctrines the most excellent. But it is hard to explain, and hard to comprehend. Even the Duke of Zhou and Confucius had not attained to a knowledge of it. This doctrine can create religious merit and retribution with appreciation of the highest wisdom. Imagine a man in possession of treasures to his heart’s content, so that he might satisfy all his wishes in proportion as he used them. Thus it is with the treasure of this wonderful doctrine. Every prayer is fulfilled and naught is wanting. Moreover, from distant India it has extended hither to the three Han, where there are none who do not receive it with reverence as it is preached to them.
“Thy servant, therefore, Myeong, King of Baekje, has humbly dispatched his retainer, Nuri Sacchi, to transmit it to the Imperial Country, and to diffuse it abroad throughout the home provinces, so as to fulfil the recorded saying of Buddha: ‘My law shall spread to the East.’ “
Upon receiving all of these things and hearing the memorial, we are told that the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, literally leapt for joy. He thanked the envoys, but then put the question to his ministers as to how they should proceed. Soga no Iname no Sukune, holding the position of Oho-omi, recommended that they should worship the statue of the Buddha. After all, if all of the “Western Frontier lands” were worshipping it, then should Yamato really be left out?
On the other side of the argument were Mononobe no Okoshi as well as Nakatomi no Kamako. They argued against stopping the traditional worship of the 180 kami of Heaven and Earth and replacing it with worship of some foreign religion.
With this split decision, Ame Kunioshi decided to have Soga no Iname experiment, first. He told him to go ahead and worship the image and see what happens. And so Soga set it up at his house in Oharida, purified it, and, per Buddhist tradition, retired from the world. He had another house, in nearby Mukuhara, purified and made into a temple. Here he began to worship the Buddha.
Around that same time, there was a pestilence—a disease—that was in the land. People were getting sick and some were dying. This was likely not unprecedented. Healthcare was not exactly up to our modern standards, and while many good things traveled the trade routes, infection and disease likely used them as pathways as well. So diseases would pop up, on occasion. In this instance, though, Mononobe no Okoshi and Nakatomi no Kamako seized on it as their opportunity. They went to Ame Kunioshi and they blamed Soga no Iname and his worship of the Buddha for the plague.
Accordingly, the court removed the statue of the Buddha and tossed it into the canal at Naniwa, and then they burned down Soga no Iname’s temple—which, as you may recall, was basically his house. As soon as they did that, though, Ame Kunioshi’s own Great Hall burst into flames, seemingly out of nowhere, as it was otherwise a clear day.
Little more is said about these events, but that summer there were reports from Kawachi of Buddhist chants booming out of the sea of Chinu near the area of Idzumi. Unate no Atahe was sent to investigate and found an entire log of camphorwood that was quote-unquote “Shining Brightly”. So he gave it to the court, where we are told they used it to have two Buddha images made, which later were installed in a temple in Yoshino; presumably at a much later date.
And then the Chronicles go quiet for the next couple decades, at least on the subject of Buddhism, but this is the first official account of it coming over, and there is quite a bit to unpack. For one thing, the memorials and speeches once again seem like something that the Chroniclers added because it fit with their understanding of the narrative, including their insistence that Yamato was a fully fledged imperial state, and there is some fairly good evidence that King Seongmyeong’s memorial is clearly anachronistic. But there are a few other things, and conflicting records on things such as dates and similar.
So first off, let’s acknowledge that there are too many things in the main narrative in the Chronicles that are just questionable, such as the sovereign “leaping with joy” at the chance to hear about Buddhism, and the fact that King Seongmyeong’s memorial apparently quotes a part of the sutra of the Sovereign Kings of Golden Light, known in Japanese as the Konkoumyou-saishou-ou-kyou, but that translation wasn’t done until 703, during the Tang dynasty, by the monk Yijing in the city of Chang’an. While it would have been known to knowledgable monks like Doji, who may have been helping put the narrative together in 720, it is unlikely that it was in use during the 6th century, when the memorial is said to have been written.
In addition, there is question about the date that all of this supposedly happened. The Nihon Shoki has this event taking place in 552, well into the reign of Ame Kunioshi. However, there are at least two 8th century sources, roughly contemporary with the writing of the Nihon Shoki, the Gangoji Garan Engi and the Jouguuki, and both of these put the date at 538, a good fourteen years earlier, and in the era of Ame Kunioshi’s predecessor, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi, aka Senka Tenno. The first of these, the Gangoji Garan Engi, is a record of the founding of the first permanent temple in Japan, Gangoji, aka Hokoji or, informally, Asukadera, which was founded by Soga no Iname’s heir, Soga no Umako. More on the temple itself, later, but for now we want to focus on the historical aspects of this account, which mostly corroborate the story, talking about Soga no Iname’s role in receiving the image and enshrining it, as well as the early conflict between the Soga clan and their rivals. The other source, the Joguki, focuses on the life of Shotoku Taishi, aka Prince Umayado, who will become a major subject of our narrative at the end of the 6th and early 7th centuries. Not only is he considered the father of Japanese Buddhism, but he had strong connections to the Soga family. Today, most scholars accept the 538 date over the 552 date when talking about Buddhism’s initial arrival into the islands

If the Chroniclers did move the event from 538 to 552, one has to wonder why. This isn’t a simple matter of being off by 60 years, and thus attributable to a mistake in the calendrical sexagenary zodiac cycle of stems and branches, so there must have been something else. One suggestion is that the date conflicted with the chronology that had already been set for the sovereigns. 538 is during the reign of Takewo no Ohokimi, aka Senka Tenno, but what if succession was not quite as cut and dried as all that? What if Ame Kunioshi no Ohokimi had his own court and was in some way ruling at the same time as his half-brothers, Magari no Ohine and Takewo no Ohokimi? They were from different mothers, and thus different factions at court. Ame Kunioshi was young, so it was possible that there were rival lineages attempting to rule, or even some kind of co-ruler deal hearkening back to more ancient precedent. Some even theorize that Magari no Ohine and Takewo Hiro Kunioshi were simply fictional inserts to help span the period between Wohodo and Ame Kunioshi.
Whatever the reason, this theory suggests that it would not have happened in the 13th year of Ame Kunioshi’s reign, but that his reign started in 526, rather than 540. An intriguing hypothesis, but one that begs the question of whether everything in the reign would then need to be shifted to account for that. Given that there are a few attributable events noted that fit with outside sources as well, that doesn’t seem quite as plausible without some very conscious efforts to change the timeline.
Another thought is that the compilers weren’t sure exactly when this event happened, but given Ame Kunioshi’s reputation and long reign, they chose his reign to place it in because it just fit. I suspect that this happened more than once, with people more likely attributing past events to well-remembered sovereigns. If this is the case, then when searching for a date they may have just chosen one that seemed auspicious. In this case, 552 CE was, in some reckonings, an important year in Buddhist history, as there were those who say it as the beginning of the age of “mappou”, the “End of the Law” or perhaps the “Latter days of the Law”.
This definitely is an intriguing theory, and resonates strongly. For most of Japanese history, the idea that we are in this period of “mappo” has had a strong influence, and to a certain extent it is kind of an apocalyptic view of things. The idea of mappo is that while the Buddha was alive, his teachings were fresh and available to all living things. However, after his death, his teachings had to be remembered and passed on. Even with the advent of writing, the meaning and understanding of his teachings, and thus an understanding of dharma, would also atrophy. Different translations, changes in meaning, and just bits and pieces lost to time would mean that for the first 500 to 1,000 years, the Buddha’s disciples would keep things well and the meaning would be protected, but in the next 500 to 1,000 years things would decline, but still be pretty close to the truth. Then – and this is when the period of “mappo” starts - things would really start to decline, until finally, about 5,000 to 10,000 years later—or about 1,000 to 12,000 years after the time of the historical Buddha—things would break down, factions would be fighting one another, and eventually everyone would have forgotten the dharma entirely. It was only then that there would come a new Buddha, Miroku or Maitreya, who would once again teach about the dharma and how to escape suffering, and the whole cycle would start again.
The year 552 would have coincided, according to some estimates, with 1,000 years since the time of Siddhartha Gautama, and so it would have had particular significance to the people of that time, particularly if you counted each of the first two Ages as 500 years each, meaning that the word of the Buddha, that his teachings would spread to the East, would have been completed just as we entered the latter days of the Law.
Regardless of the time—and, as I said earlier, 538 is the more accepted date—the general events described – the statue, the offer of Soga to experiment, and the resulting events - are usually agreed to, although even here we must pause, slightly and ask a few questions.
First off, was this truly the first time that Buddhism had ever shown up in Japan? The answer to that is probably not. There had been many waves of immigrants that had come over to Japan from the peninsula, and even if only a small handful of them had adopted the new religion before coming over it is likely that there were pockets of worshippers. Later, we will see that there are people in Japan who are said to have had prior experience as a monk, or who had their own Buddhist images. These images were probably used by people in their homes—there is no evidence of any particular temples that had been built, privately or otherwise, and so there is no evidence that we have any active monks or nuns in the archipelago, but who knows what was going on in communities outside of the elite core? There were plenty of things that were never commented on if it wasn’t directly relevant to the court.
Furthermore, with all of the envoys that had been to Baekje, surely some of them had experience with Buddhism. And then there were the envoys *from* Baekje, who no doubt brought Buddhist practices with them. So there was likely some kind of familiarity with the religion’s existence, even if it wasn’t necessarily fully understood.
The second point that many people bring up is the role of the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, or whomever was in charge at the time that the first image came over. While the Nihon Shoki attempts to portray a strong central government with the sovereign at its head, we’ve already seen how different households had arisen and taken some measure of power for themselves. At the end of the 5th and into the early 6th century, the Ohotomo and Mononobe houses were preeminent, with Ohotomo Kanamura taking on actions such as negotiating dealings with the continent and even manuevering around the Crown Prince. The Mononobe wielded considerable authority through their military resources, and now, the Soga appeared to ascendant. It is quite possible that the idea of the sovereign giving any sort of permission or order to worship Buddhism is simply a political fig leaf added by the Chroniclers. The Soga may have been much more independent in their views and dealings. To better understand this, let’s take a look at the uji family system and the Soga family in particular.
Now the Nihon Shoki paints a picture as though these noble uji families were organic, and simply part of the landscape, descending from the kami in the legendary age, with lineages leading down to the present day, although there is some acknowledgment that the earliest ancestors did not necessarily use the family names until a later date. For much of Japanese history, the concept that these family, or uji, were one of the core building blocks of ancient Japanese political and cultural spheres is taken as a matter of course. However, in more modern studies, this view has been questioned, and now the prevailing view is that these families are somewhat different. In fact, the uji are likely just as much an artificial construct as the corporate -Be family labor groups.
According to this theory, early on people were associated with local groups and places. Outside of the immediate family, groups were likely held together by their regional ties as much as anything else. Names appear to be locatives, with ancient titles indicating the -hiko or -hime of this or that area.
Some time in the 5th century, Yamato—and possibly elsewhere in the peninsula—began to adopt the concept of -Be corporate groups from Baekje. We talked about this back in Episode 63, using the Hata as a prime example of how these groups were brought together. More importantly, though, was that each of these -Be groups reported to someone in the court, sometimes with a different surname. These were the uji, created along with the -Be to help administer the labor and work of running the state. They were essentially arms of the state itself, in many ways. The kabane system of titles emphasizes this, with different families having different ranks depending on what they did, whether locally, regionally, or at the central court. Some of these titles, like -Omi and -Kimi, were likely once actual jobs, but eventually it came to represent something more akin to a social ranking.
There have been some questions and emails asking for a bit more in depth on this, and I’d really like to, but I’m afraid that would be too much for now. At the moment I want to focus more on the uji, particularly on those at the top - the uji with the kabane of either Omi or Muraji, as these are the ones most likely to be helping to directly run the government. They even had their own geographical areas within the Nara basin, and elsewhere, that were uji strongholds. The Hata had areas near modern Kyoto, the Mononobe clearly had claims to land around Isonokami, in modern Tenri, and the Soga clan had their holdings in the area of modern Asuka and Kashihara city. At the very least, that is where Soga no Iname’s house was—in Mukuhara and Oharida, both located in the modern area of Asuka, which will become important in the future.
It wasn’t just the landholdings that were important, though. Each uji had some part to play in the functioning of the government. In many cases it was the production or control of a particular service, such as the Hata and silk weaving, or the Mononobe and their affinity with all things military. For the Soga, they appear to have had a rather interesting portfolio.
Traditionally, the Soga family is said to trace its lineage back to Takechi no Sukune, the first Oho-omi back in the time of Okinaga no Tarashi Hime and Homuda Wake no Ohokimi—see episode 46 for more on him. That lineage is likely fabricated, however, and the earliest actual evidence for the family may be from the Kogoshui, where we are told that Soga no Machi was put in charge of the Three Treasuries. These were the Imikura, or sacred treasury; the Uchikura, or royal household treasury; and the Ohokura, the government treasury. This seems like quite the position of responsibility, and it would fit with some of what we see later as the Soga are involved in helping set up Miyake, the various royal storehouses across the land that acted as Yamato court administrative centers for the purposes of collecting goods and funneling them to the court, as well as keeping an eye on the local regions. Although here I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t also note that the “Three Treasuries”, or “Sanzou” is one way to translate the Tripitaka, and given the Soga’s role, I don’t think I can entirely ignore that point.
So the Soga family had experience with administration, and specifically they were dealing with a variety of different goods produced in different regions. If that is the case, then their authority did not necessarily derive from the standard uji-be constructed familial connections, but rather they were deriving positional authority from the central government itself. This may seem like common sense to us, but in the world of ancient Yamato, where family connections were everything, this may have been something new and innovative—and very in keeping with various continental models of administration. It is quite likely that the Soga were dealing with some of the latest innovations in government and political authority, which would also have opened them up to the possibility of new ideas.
In addition, their position meant they likely had wide-ranging contacts across the archipelago and even onto the peninsula. The Soga themselves have connections to the peninsula in the names of some of their members, such as Soga no Karako, where “Karako” can be translated as a “Son of Kara” or a “Son of Gaya”, possibly referring to their origins, and Soga no Kouma, where “Kouma” is a general term for Goguryeo, and so quite possibly indicates a connection with them as well. On top of that, there is a now-out-of-favor theory that once suggested that Soga no Machi might be the same as Moku Machi, an important Baekje official in the late 5th century. While that has been largely discredited, the fact that “Machi” is possibly of Baekje origin cannot be entirely overlooked.
Then there are a series of notes in the Nihon Shoki, particularly surrounding the area of Shirai, in the land of Kibi. These start in 553, just one year after Soga no Iname’s failed attempt to launch a Buddhist temple, at least according to the Nihon Shoki’s record of events. It is a relatively simple note, but it mentions how Soga no Iname made a man by the name of Wang Jinnie the “Funa no Fubito”, or “Recorder of Ships”, and put him in charge of the shipping tax—all at the behest of the sovereign, of course.
Later, in 555, Soga no Iname went with Hozumi no Iwayumi no Omi to Kibi, where they consolidated five districts, or agata, under the administration of a single administrative Miyake in Shirawi. Later, in 556, he would go back to Kibi and establish a Miyake in Kojima, putting in place Katsuraki no Yamada as the Tazukai, or “rural rice field governor”. That same year he and others went to the Takachi district in Yamato and established the Miyake of Ohomusa, or “Great Musa”, for immigrants from Baekje and then Womusa, or “Small Musa”, for immigrants from Goguryeo.
In 569, the person that Soga no Iname had put in charge of recording the ships, Wang Jinnie, had a nephew, Itsu—or possibly Danchin, depending on how you read it—go out to Shirawi to take a census. This is the same Shirawi that Soga no Iname had helped establish in 555. Itsu becomes the Shirawi no Obito, and in 574 we see Soga no Umako, Iname’s heir, heading out to Shirawi with an updated register for Itsu.
So, in short, the Soga family clearly is doing a lot of government administration, and particularly of the Miyake, which is the extension of the court authority into the rest of the archipelago. On top of that, look at how often the names that are coming up in conjunction with what they are doing are referencing immigrant groups. Even the Hozumi family are known at this point for their work on the peninsula, and we see the Soga heavily involved with the Wang family and their fortunes, not to mention Greater and Lesser Musa and the Baekje and Goguryeo individuals there. Wang Jinnie will have even more of a part to play, but we’ll hold onto that for later.
Given everything we can see about how they are operating, is it any surprise that the Soga would advocate in favor of Buddhism? I’d also note that, while other clans have clear connections to heavenly ancestors and kami whom they worshipped, it is unclear to me if the Soga had anything similar. There is mention in the 7th century of the creation of a shrine to their titular ancestors, Takeuchi no Sukune and Ishikawa no Sukune, and today there is a shrine that is dedicated to Soga tsu Hiko and Soga tsu Hime—Basically just lord and lady Soga. But there isn’t anything like the spirit of Futsunushi or Ohomononushi, let alone an Amaterasu or Susano’o.
Why is that important? Well, prior to the 6th century, a lot of clans claimed authority from the ritual power they were perceived to wield, often related to the prestige of their kami. One of the ways that Yamato influence had spread was through the extension of the Miwa cult across the archipelago, and there were even members of the Himatsuribe and the Hioki-be, basically groups of ritualists focused on sun worship, which upheld the royal house. The Mononobe controlled Isonokami shrine, where they worshipped their Ujigami, Futsu-mitama, the spirit of the sound of the sword. And then there were the Nakatomi, who haven’t had much to do in the narrative so far, but we know that they were court ritualists, responsible for ensuring that proper rituals were carried out by the court for the kami to help keep balance in the land.
The dispute between the Soga and the Mononobe and Nakatomi is presented as a struggle between a foreign religion and the native kami of Japan—leaving aside any discussion, for now, about just how “native” said kami actually were. This is, in fact, the primary story that gets told again and again, that the Mononobe and Nakatomi were simply standing up for their beliefs, sincerely believing that if too many people started worshipping foreign gods then it would supplant the worship already present in the islands.
And that may have been a genuine fear at the time, but I would suggest that it was only a small one. What seems more apparent is that we are really looking at just an old fashioned power struggle. Because what all of the information we have about the Soga distills down to is: they were the new kid on the block. The Soga were the up and coming nobility. They had connections with the continent and various immigrant groups. That gave them access to new ideas and new forms of resources. The Mononobe were built on a more traditionalist line. They had been around, ever since at least Wakatake no Ohokimi, playing a significant role in things, alongside the Ohotomo. The Mononobe were at their apex, claiming descent through their own Heavenly Grandson, and having held sway at court through numerous reigns at this point. They represent, in many ways, the old guard.
Worship of a fancy new religious icon—effectively a new kami—threatened to give the Soga even more power and sway. They already had control of the three treasuries, if the Kogoshui is to be believed, and likely had a rather impressive administrative apparatus. Soga no Iname had also ended up successfully marrying off two of his daughters to Ame Kunioshi, making him father-in-law to the current sovereign. If he added to that a spiritual focus that people came to believe in, that would only enhance the Soga’s power and place in the hierarchy.
And what better way to taint all of that, and neutralize these upstarts, than to blame this new god for the plague and pestilence that was killing people. We see it all too often, even today—when people are scared and when there are problems, the easiest people to scapegoat are the foreigners and the outsiders. Those whom we do not see as “us”. It was probably easy to turn the court against Buddhism, at least initially. They threw the image in the canal and burned down the temple, and no doubt they were pleased with themselves.
But that was merely the opening salvo, and as we’ll see in the coming years, the Soga family were hardly done with Buddhism. One can argue whether they were truly devout or if this was merely for political gain, but the Soga family tied themselves to this new foreign religion, for good or for ill, and they wouldn’t be pushed around forever.
When next we touch base on this topic we’ll look at Soga no Iname’s heir, Soga no Umako, and his attempts to start up where his father left off. He would again clash with the Mononobe, and the outcome of that conflict would set the path for the next half a century. It would also see Buddhism become firmly enmeshed with the apparatus of the state. As this happens , we’ll also see the character of Buddhist worship in the archipelago change. Initially, the Buddha was treated little differently from any other kami, and based on the way it is described, probably worshiped in a very similar manner. However, as more sutras came to light and as more people studied and learned about the religion—and as more immigrants were brought in to help explain how things were supposed to work—Buddhism grew in the islands to be its own distinct entity. In fact the growth of Buddhism would even see the eventual definition of “Shinto”, the “Way of the Gods”, a term that was never really needed until there was another concept for native practices to be compared against.
Before we leave off, there is one other story I’d like to mention. It is tangential to our immediate discussion of Buddhism and the Soga, but I think you may find it of interest, nonetheless. This is the story of just what happened—supposedly—to that first Buddhist icon that was tossed into the Naniwa canal.
Because you see, according to tradition, that gilt-bronze icon did not stay stuck in the mud and muck of the canal, nor did it just disappear. Instead there is a tradition that it was found almost a century later. The person who retrieved it was named Honda no Yoshimitsu, and from Naniwa he traveled all the way to Shinano, to the area of modern Nagano, and there he would found a temple in 642. Another reading of his name, Yoshimitsu, is Zenko, and so the temple is named Zenkoji, and you can still go and visit it today.
In fact, the main hall of Zenkoji is considered a national treasure, and it was featured prominently during the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan. It is a popular attraction for tourist both in Japan and from abroad, and if you get a chance I highly recommend going to see it. On the street leading up to the temple entrance are many traditional shops that still sell various foods and traditional arts and crafts, and there are many intriguring features. For example, there is a narrow walkway underneath the main temple that is completely dark, where you are meant to feel along the wall to try to find the key to enlightenment, a kind of physical metaphor of Buddhist teaching.
And of course there is the icon that Honda Yoshimitsu is said to have fished out of the canal.
According to the temple, the icon still exists, and many worshippers believe it to be the oldest extant Buddhist icon in Japan, even older than the icons at Horyuji. However, there is one catch—nobody is allowed to see it. Shortly after it was installed in the temple, the statue was hidden in a special container, or zushi, and it became what is known as a hidden Buddha. This is a tradition particularly prevalent in Japan, where some Buddhas are hidden away and only brought out on very special occasions. Some cynics might note that those occasions are often when the temple needs to raise funds. As for this hidden Buddha, however, it has not been seen more than a handful of times since it was locked away in the 7th century.
Despite that, we know what it looks like—or at least what it is supposed to look like. The image is said to be a triad, and though the Nihon Shoki claims it was an image of Shakyamuni, the central figure of the Zenkoji triad is actually the figure of Amida, aka Amithabha, as in the Pure Land sect of Buddhism. Amida Nyorai is flanked by two attendants. We know all of this because a copy of the Zenkoji image was made in the Kamakura period, and that image, said to be a faithful recreation of the original is also kept at Zenkoji. While the original is kept hidden in the back, the replica, which is thought to have all of the miraculous powers of the original, sits in front, and is therefore called the Maedachi Honzon, basically the image standing in front, vice the original, the Gohonzon, the main image.
Except it gets even better, because the replica is *also* kept hidden away most of the time, and only revealed on special occasions, known as Gokaicho, or “opening of the curtain”, which occurs once every seven years.
The Zenkoji triad became extremely important in later centuries, and copies were made and installed in sub-temples throughout Japan. Even today you may find a Zenkoji-style triad here or there, each one considered to have a spiritual tie back to the original, and some of them even have inscriptions confirming that they are, indeed, Zenkoji style triads
Of course, the big question remains: does the original image actually still exist, and is there any chance that it actually is as old as it claims to be? There really is no good way of knowing. Zenkoji is not offering to open up the zushi any time soon. We do know a few things, however. We know that the temple has burned down at least 11 times over the years, and the Gohonzon was rescued each time, or so they say. There are some who claim that it still exists, but perhaps it is damaged. If that is the case, how did they make the replica, though?
There was an inspection during the Edo period. There was a rumor that it had been stolen, and so an Edo official was sent to check on the status. They reported that it was still there, but crucially they never described actually laying eyes on the statue. In one account where a monk did open the box it is said that their was a blinding light—kind of like the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones but just overwhelming; no faces were melted, at least none that were reported.
The monks of Zenkoji, when asked how they know the image is still there, will point to the weight of the container, which, when lifted, is apparently considerable. They say that is how they know it is still there. Of course, a melted lump of metal might be the same weight as it was when it was full statue, as long as it didn’t lose any actual mass, so it is hard to tell if it is still in good condition.
Even with all of that, there is the question about the veracity of the original objects lineage to begin with. Did Honda Yoshimitsu really just find *the* original statue? And even if he did, how would he have known what it was? Was there an inscription: To Yamato, from Baekje, hugs and kisses?
I’ve yet to see anyone directly compare the purported replica with other statues, but I suspect that would be the route to at least check the age, but nobody seems to be saying that the style of the replica is blatantly wrong for a 6th or 7th century icon from the peninsula or by peninsular craftsmen. Then again, there were plenty of local immigrants in the Naniwa area who could have potentially crafted an image. Indeed, the area around modern Nagano even has traces of Goguryeo style burial cairns, possibly from immigrants settled out there to help with early horse cultivation, and so there is even the possibility that there were locals with the connections and skills to craft something.
If you really want to know more, there is an entire work by Donald McCallum, titled “Zenkoji and Its Icon”, on not just the icon but the entire worship that sprang up around it and caused copies to spread throughout the archipelago.
And that’s where we will leave off for this episode. In the next couple of episodes I want to finish up some of the secular history of this reign, and look a little bit outside of Yamato and the evidence in the Chronicles as well.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
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And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Friday, K.F. (Ed.). (2017). Routledge Handbook of Premodern Japanese History (1st ed.). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315170473
Deal, William E. and Ruppert, Brian. (2015). A Cultural History of Japanese Buddhism. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies. ISBN: 978-1-405-16700-0.
McCallum, D. F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Art, Archaeology, and Icons of Seventy-Century Japan. University of Hawai’i Press. http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt6wqtwv
Matsuo, K. (13 Dec. 2007). A History of Japanese Buddhism. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9781905246410.i-280
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Farris, W. (1998). Sacred Texts and Buried Treasures: Issues in the Historical Archaeology of Ancient Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. https://doi.org/10.1515/9780824864224
Piggott, Joan R. (1997). The emergence of Japanese kingship. Stanford, Calif : Stanford University Press
Kiley, C. J. (1973). State and Dynasty in Archaic Yamato. The Journal of Asian Studies, 33(1), 25–49. https://doi.org/10.2307/2052884
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 84: The Middle Way Through the Middle Kingdom

April 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Ruins of a stupa at the Ancient city of Subashi, once a thriving city in the land of Kucha, home of Kumarajiva, on the northern edge of the Taklamakan Desert in the Tarim Basin. Kucha was a major stop on the Silk Road. Photo by author.

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This episode looks at the trip that the Buddha’s teachings took from the Indian subcontinent through the Kushan empireand the land of Gandhara, and over to East Asia—to the Yellow River and Yangzi River regions as well as the Korean peninsula.

Buddhist Art and Architecture

Ruwanweli Maha Saya, aka Mahathupa, or “Great Stupa” in Anuradapura, Sri Lanka. Photo by author.

Some of the oldest evidence we have for Buddhism are monuments. The Ruwanweli Maha Saya is believed to have been built in about 140 BCE in Sri Lanka, where the Pali Canon was put together and eventually disseminated. It claims to have the largest collection of the Buddha’s relics anywhere in the world, and rises up 103 meters high. It was built at the heart of the ancient capital of Sri Lanka.

This is a very classic stupa shape, and the shape most commonly found in South and Southeast Asia.

Early Buddhist art and artifacts can be hard to find. There are the Ashoka Pillars, which have references to Buddhist theology, and stupas, but most of the written documents have turned to dust, as they were written on leaves or paper, which typically don’t do well outside of very specific conditions.

The historical Buddha represented as a wheel wrapped with a garland, from Madhya Pradesh, in Central India, 2nd Century CE. In the Freer-Sackler Gallery of the Smithsonian in Washington, DC. Photo by author.

Where we do find art, it may not always be obvious. Take this early depiction of the Buddha as a wheel, with a garland. The idea of existence as a wheel that kept turning and turning, and therefore kept bringing people back to an existence of suffering again and again, is at the center of a lot of Buddhist teaching, and so wheels are often used as symbols. Sometimes they will have eight spokes, representing the eightfold path, but here we see it is just a wheel.

Gandhara and the Kushan Empire

Gandhara Stupa

An image of people worshiping at a stupa. You can see the form is fairly standard for the time. 2-3 Century CE, from the British Museum in London, UK. Photo by author.

The Buddha's Enlightenment

Images indicating the story of the Buddha’s enlightenment, and the suppression of the demon, Mara, who tried to disrupt him. 2-3 Century CE, at the British Museum, London, UK. Photo by author.

Image of the Buddha

This image of the Buddha shows many of the western features common in Gandharan art. The hair is more naturalistic than later depictions, and the loose folds of his robe recall some of the Greek and Roman influence in the region’s art. 2-3 Century CE, from the Seoul National Museum. Photo by author.

Death of the Buddha

Here we see the Buddha lying down, entering nirvana, while those of his followers still here in this existence lament their loss. Notice the facial features of the Buddha, including his mustache, which was prominent in a lot of early art. Also the clothing and depictions of his followers. From ca. 200, at the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford, UK. Photo by author.

Boddhisatva

An image of a Boddhisatva—one who has attained buddhahood but delayed nirvana so that they could stay in this existence and help others. From the Prince Albert Museum in Jaipur, India. Photo by author.

Head of the Buddha

From about the 3rd century. Once again, see the features, which were common to the Gandharan style, and which made an impact on early Buddhist images along the Silk Road and all the way to East Asia. In each place he would be depicted with features that were familiar to the people there, while retaining certain distinctive marks, such as the chignon, or ushnisha, at the top of his head. From the Freer-Sackler Gallery in Washington, DC. Photo by author.

Scene from the Buddha's Life

Many reliefs are scenes like this. Much as a church in the west might put scenes from the Bible in a stained glass window, scenes from the Buddha’s life or teachings are often found, usually with depictions of people in local dress and architecture around him. From the New Delhi National Museum. Photo by author.

Seated Boddhisatva

Here is an example of a Boddhisatva, with many of the features of the Buddha, but also with indications of their status as beings who stayed in the world to help others. From the Tokyo National Museum. Photo by author.

The Buddha's Enlightenment

Another scene of Buddha’s enlightenment, with the leaves of the tree above him, and soldiers below and around him—the forces of Mara. His right hand is down, towards the earth, and this gesture is commonly used to reference subduing Mara. Specific gestures and poses became common ways to depict different scenes such that an entire lexicon of how to depict the Buddha was developed. 2-3 Century, Freer-Sackler Gallery. Photo by author.

Seated Buddha

The seated Buddha, holding the fingers of his left hand in his right, forming a common mudra, or hand posture. Here we see a very prominent mustache on the Buddha, common to this period (2-3C) and region. Where we don’t see one, it was probably painted on—most of these would have been elaborately painted in their day, but now only the stone itself remains. From the Tokyo National Museum, photo by author.

Buddha's Disciples

In this scene, the Buddha’s disciples lament their loss at the foot of his deathbed. While most are wailing or comforting each other, we also see one in meditation, not giving in to the feelings of loss. Ca. 100-300, from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, UK. Photo by author.

I’ve collected a series of images and encourage you to look through at the art style in Gandhara that was so influential on later Buddhist imagery. Much of this comes from the 2nd to 3rd centuries, which was the height of the Kushan Empire’s power.

Tarim Basin

A ruined building with no roof. Wooden and straw supports of some sort of floor can be seen beneath the dirt.In the distance are more ruins and a range of mountains. — Ruins at the ancient Kuchean city of Subashi, looking towards part of the Tianshan mountain range. Photo by author.

One of the main routes of the overland silk road was through the Tarim Basin. To the south it are the Himalayas and the Tibetan Plateau. To the north are the Tianshan mountains, and beyond that the region of Dzungaria, part of the Eurasian steppe. In the center of the Tarim Basin is the Taklamakan desert. Eons ago, it was a fertile inland sea, but over time it has dried up, so that the only remnants are in the eastern extremity—the swampy, stagnant former salt lake of Lop Nor. Despite this seemingly inhospitable land, settlements arose along the edges, where meltwater runoff from the mountains kept rivers flowing. Water could be found there to grow crops and even support thriving cities and kingdoms.

A large mudstone brick wall--possibly part of an ancient building--in the desert. — Ancient city walls at Subashi. Photo by author.

Thanks to the dry conditions of the Tarim Basin, many arts were preserved, including paintings and even documents, giving us keen insights into just what went on along the silk road in ancient times.

One of the larger polities around the time that Buddhism was spreading was the land of Kucha.

Kuchean history is not fully understood. We have mention of it in other documents, but it is known mostly through other sources and the archaeological traces left behind. We do have documents in a language that we believe was the language of Kucha, known as Kuchean or, likely erroneously, as Tocharian B, one of two—or possibly three—related Indo-European languages found in the Tarim Basin. It was once thought that Kucha was related to Kushan and the Yuezhi, though the language of Kushan appears to have been Bactrian, an Indo-Iranian language, instead.

A detailed but eroded painting of the Buddha, with individuals on either side. — The Buddha and disciples from the Qizil cave grotto paintings, 4th-5th Century, on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. Photo by Author.

Kucha (or Kuqa or Kuche) likely started further east and then people moved west along the edge of the Tianshan mountains, likely pushed along by the Xiongnu and others who were fighting for dominance in the Gansu region. As such it is part of the northern route through the Tarim basin. While the majority of Kucha has since been lost, there are many sites, such as the ancient city of Subashi and the Qizil caves, which remain. In the Qizil caves, you can see ancient Buddhist statues and paintings by believers. The caves were dug out of the side of a cliff face, and would have provided shelter and shade, which kept the caves, and the art in them, well protected.

A painting of the Buddha is shown on the left, with a dark mustache and hair in the classic chignon style. To his right are paintings of six bald figures, one of whom is holding a feathered fan. — Image of the Buddha and disciples from a fresco in Miran, along the southern edge of the Tarim Basin. 3rd-4th Century, currently in the New Delhi National Museum. Photo by author.

This is where the monk Kumarajiva was from, making his way west towards Chang’an (modern Xian) and helping to spread Buddhism there.

There was another route along the south, where traces of loanwords show up that appear linked to the language of Kucha. Whether there were more speakers in that area or they came from other influences, there were definitely links across the region in terms of art and religion.

Dunhuang

A low wall, maybe 2 to 3 meters tall, with clear striations. The base is covered in sand and dirt, and a modern fence can be seen in the foreground. — Western edge of the Han era “Great Wall” in Dunhuang, near Yumenguan, the Jade Gate. Photo by author.

At the edge of the Han sphere of influence was the city of Dunhuang, where the northern and southern routes around the Tarim basin came together, leading towards the Gansu corridor and into the Yellow River region. Otherwise you were traveling over treacherous mountain paths towards the Yangzi or the Sichuan basin. When the Han dynasty pushed back against the Xiongnu, they established an outpost here, including an extension of their original “Great Wall”.

An imposing mudstone construction with a square base that tapers towards the top. One side shows a large opening, and the outside has clearly been worn away by the elements. — Yumenguan (玉門關) - this is actually a fortress built to house the soldiers who monitored people traveling from the Tarim Basin towards the Gansu region, and vice versa. Photo by author.

“Yumenguan”, the Jade Gate Pass, is mentioned in many of the stories of people passing through the region. A garrison here was supposed to keep track of who was coming and going, and provide protection against incursions by outside foes, such as the Xiongnu. This was the edge of empire, but it was also where many of the merchants and people who traveled back and forth along these desert highways would meet and come together.

A rocky cliffside, worn away by erosion, with numerous manmade caves and rooms that have been exposed over time. — Just a few of the Mogao caves that have not been built up in the way that others have, giving an impression of what people would have seen as they approached.

One of the famous sites of Dunhuang, today, are the Mogao caves. These are some of the most striking caves and examples of Buddhist artwork anywhere. While some of been damaged by erosion, many of the caves remain intact, and there are ongoing conservation efforts to try to minimize damage to and catalog the artwork that is inside.

The caves were first dug out in about the 4th century as a place to practice Buddhist meditation, but eventually it evolved into a system of over five hundred caves where people could worship. Elaborate carvings and paintings can be found throughout the cave system, which was actively being used and improved for roughly a thousand years. Today it is a UNESCO world heritage site.

Image of a wall and ceiling painted with various scenes, including the life of the Buddha. In areas the plaster is missing. The colors are faded to mostly blue and white, though there is faint evidence of other colors visible. — Example of some of the paintings at Dunhuang. These have been exposed to the outside, and thus exposed to the elements over time, but there are many even more impressive paintings inside. Photo by author

Unfortunately, the popularity of the paintings has actually put them under threat. First there are those that were taken out and moved when early explorers like Aurel Stein came through, with expeditions sending samples off to London, Berlin, and elsewhere. But even today, as more people come to study or just to see the paintings, it has changed the humidity and pH levels in the caves, such that many are deteriorating at a much faster rate, and so access has been limited, but there are efforts to digitize many of them so that they can be safely viewed for generations to come.

Image of the Buddha, flanked by two attendants, in clay. The Buddha's right hand is up, palm out, while his left hand is down, also palm out. In his chest is drawn a Buddhist swastika, arms facing counter-clockwise. — Buddhist image of Shakyamuni from the Northern Wei dynasty. H has an ancient Buddhist swastika on his chest, a common symbol at this time, well before it was appropriated by the Nazis in the 20th century. From the Shanxi Museum of History. Photo by author.

China

When Buddhism came in the Han dynasty it was simply one of many religions. While we have examples and mentions of it, it was not as influential, and the Buddhist heartland remained in the West—in India, Kushan, etc. However, in the Southern and Northern Dynasties period, Buddhism gained immense patronage and saw much growth. From the third to 6th centuries there was even a reversal, as the Kushan Empire declined, and Central India saw a rise in Brahmanic traditions. Monasteries in the Yangzi and Yellow River region would become the geographic center of much of the Mahayana Buddhist practices, which themselves spread out to the rest of east and northeast Asia.

Image of the Buddha from the Northern Wei dynasty in 499 CE. From the Beijing Capital City Museum. Photo by author.

Converts during this period often went out in search of documents and manuscripts in an attempt to try to get at a more authentic version of the Buddha’s teachings. This was no doubt hampered by the fact that there were so many different writings by this time, particularly in the Mahayana tradition. The Buddhist canon is vast, and could fill up entire libraries. Debates over which sutras and which practices were more effective would continue throughout the historical period, and even today there are numerous schools that emphasize different things.

Through it all, there are some common threads as to the core nature of the historical Buddha, Siddharta Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, and his core principles. The Three Jewels, the Four Noble Truths, and the Eightfold Path remain at the heart of Buddhist teaching. This would prove both helpful and troubling to various states as they looked at how to use Buddhist teachings and thoughts to support their own aims at political power and stability.

A green-glazed pottery version of a two story watchtower. At each level are crude figures with crossbows pointed outwards. At the very top is a depiction of a tiled roof. — Example of a Han dynasty watchtower from a funerary arrangement. There seem to be obvious similarities between these and the later pagoda towers, although many of the latter were not necessarily made for actual human use.

Temple design and practices were, in turn, influenced by the cultures of these areas just as much as Buddhism influenced them. Buddhist images, originally in the Gandharan style, began to take on their own characteristics. As with other regions, the face of the Buddha often reflected the people who were building the images, and we can see a change in the look of the Buddha as time progressed.

Furthermore, the temples changed. The stupa became more of a tower, and eventually transformed into wooden or stone pagodas. These then became standard for most East Asian Buddhist temples, and even became iconic images of various locations, such as the pagoda of Tōji, in Kyōto, which for centuries towered over the city, and was as iconic as the Eifel tower in Paris, or the Capitol Building in DC. Even today, these iconic buildings evoke the places where they reside.

A multi-tiered tower with a slightly domed top and an octagonal base with trees surrounding it and mountains in the background.. Small holes can be seen at some levels and there are faint decorations along the edge, but the tower is largely plain. — Songyue pagoda, 523 CE. Photo by Siyuwj, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The oldest tower style structure that we have today is the Songyue pagoda in modern China. It was built on Mt. Song in modern Henan province in 523 CE, the Northern Wei period, and is one of the few remaining from this era. Many others were made of wood, a tradition that would pass on to the Korean peninsula and the Japanese archipelago, where we have an example in the oldest wooden buildings in the world at Hōryūji, built in the 7th century, about one hundred years after Buddhism first arrived in Japan.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 84: The Middle Way through the Middle Kingdom.
First things first, thank you to Bodil, Gabe, and Lauren for donating to support the show on Ko-Fi and Patreon. If you’d like to join them, will have information at the end of the episode.
Also an apology—if my voice isn’t in tip-top shape, well, it seems that COVID finally found us after 3 years or so, and I’m on the tail end of it. So thank you for your understanding.
Last episode we talked about Siddhartha Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, the Historical Buddha, and his teachings, and how they spread, at least through the Indian subcontinent, with the patronage of rulers like Ashoka the Great. The original teachings, initially taught as an oral tradition, was eventually turned into a series of writings, called the Tripitaka.
As for how those writings came about, it’s worth talking about the languages involved. The native language of Shakyamuni was probably a language known as Maghadi, or something similar. But the Indian subcontinent, including the modern countries of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Nepal, and Afghanistan, is over three times the size of western Europe. There are at eight south Asian language families, with hundreds of different languages, depending on how you count them. The modern state of India counts 22 official languages, not including English. I mention this to point out that as the Buddha’s disciples spread his teachings, they were, by necessity, translating it into different languages.
There is a story that a student suggested to the Buddha that they make Sanskrit the official language of Buddhism. Even then, Sanskrit was considered a language of learning and education, much as Greek or Latin was in medieval Europe, but the Buddha rejected this and insisted that his teachings be taught in people’s own tongue. This proved great for reaching people, but over time there was a fear that the oral teachings might be lost, and so they were written down.
The oldest written Buddhist canon is generally agreed to be texts in Pali, commissioned in Sri Lanka. These are sometimes called the southern Tripitaka—or Tipitaka in Pali—and it is the primary canon for Theravada Buddhists. In the north, however, Sanskrit remained the prominent language of learning, and texts written down and transmitted in the north—particularly those that made it to China and on to Japan—were typically Sanskrit or translations of Sanskrit texts. This is what some refer to as the Northern Tripitaka. Both of these were transcriptions of the oral teachings that Buddhist monks were otherwise memorizing and presenting to the Buddhist community. That oral tradition, in fact, never really went away, and these early texts were more like a reference so that monks could check their memory. Chanting the sutras—and especially chanting from memory—remained a highly prized skill of Buddhist orators.
Now, the split between northern and southern texts is convenient, but it isn’t necessarily as simple as all that. We have plenty of examples of texts, particularly in the northern traditions, that don’t necessarily have an extant Sanskrit counterpart. In fact, the oldest extant sutras of any tradition that we have today are known as the Gandharan sutras, and written in the Ghandari language using a Karosthi script. Gandhara refers to a region centered north and west of the Indus river, in modern Pakistan, stretching to the Kabul river valley in modern Afghanistan and north to the Karakoram mountains, which is one of the interlocking ranges that form the boundary between modern Pakistan and India and modern China and the Tibetan plateau. It is believed to be the namesake of the city of Kandahar, in modern Afghanistan.
This area was important, and not just to Buddhism. For thousands of years it has been a crossroads between the Indian subcontinent, the area known as the Middle East, and the inner trade routes of central Eurasia. It was part of the conquest by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BCE, becoming part of his kingdom, but then it was lost in battle to the Mauryan empire, which Ashoka the Great ruled in the 3rd century BCE. The area later fell to Indo-Greek rule from members of the Greco-Bactrian kingdom to the north. The most famous ruler during this period was probably Menander I, who is also remembered as a patron of Buddhism, building more stupas and monasteries in the region.
The Hellenic Greco-Bactrians were eventually displaced by tribes of the Yuezhi, who themselves were being displaced by the Xiongnu, in central Eurasia. In this epic game of musical chairs, a branch of the Yuezhi eventually settled in the area, ruling a large territory, including Gandhara, under what is known as the Kushan empire. They had first moved into the area of Bactria and Sogdiana probably around the 1st or 2nd century BCE, and by the 1st century CE they were exerting authority over Gandhara. Around the time the Gandharan sutras were written down, in the 1st or 2nd centuries, Buddhism—especially Mahayana Buddhism—was flourishing in the region, and Kanishka the Great—don’t you love how all of these rulers are known as “the Great”, by the way?—ruled the Kushan empire, and hence Gandhara, in the early 2nd century. He is said to have been a great patron of Buddhism, although it was one of several religions, including Zoroastrianism, that flourished in the region at this time.
The Kushan empire is believed to be the same Yuezhi that we mentioned in episode 79, when we talked about the Han diplomat Zhang Qian, who had trekked through hostile Xiongnu, or Hunna, territory across much of what is now western China in the 2nd century BCE, seeking allies against the Hunna. At that point, the Yuezhi had had enough of war, however, and they declined to fight, preferring to settle where they were and eventually growing into the Kushan empire. That connection with the Han dynasty, however, likely was maintained through trade routes that continued to operate across the vast expanse of central Eurasia. The Han dynasty itself continued to send out diplomatic missions to the various states of central Eurasia, and of course there were trade routes.
As the Kushan empire expanded into the Tarim basin, it met once again with the Han, who had defeated the Hunna, and then claimed routes across the oasis towns of the desert regions. While the routes would have high and low periods, often depending on the state of various conflicts, in general it seems that Buddhist missionaries probably made it to the Han dynasty and the Yellow River region, and founded monasteries, as early as the first century CE and certainly by the second century. And, by our best understanding, the folks in these monasteries were already doing a lot of copying and translation of texts – both as a meritorious act, and to spread the word. Since this is around the time the Gandharan texts were written, they were likely a part of this larger tradition of copying and translating that was going on, although many of those early documents did not survive intact to the modern day.
One of the earliest records of Buddhism in the Han dynasty is a record dated to 65 CE. Liu Ying, Prince of Chu and son of Emperor Guangwu of Han, sponsored Buddhism—as well as a school of Daoism—in attempts to better understand longevity and immortality. While he was eventually accused of treason, putting something of a damper on his patronage of the religion, it is the first mention we have in the histories of Buddhism, and in some ways it speaks to something else about the initial acceptance of Buddhism.
While there were likely those well-versed in Buddhism, particularly in the community of foreigners from the Western Regions, evidence suggests that for many lay people it was just as likely about what people thought that the religion could do for them in this life as anything else. After all, there are many stories of miraculous events, and there was the concept of reincarnation and karma—the idea that by building merit, one could improve their lot in the next life. There was even a belief that by building merit, one could improve their lot in the current life—and apparently extend their life or even, possibly, gain immortality.
Sure, there were the more intellectual and philosophical endeavors, but for many people Buddhism was just as much about what it could do for them in the here and now. Stories of monks and other holy men fit in right alongside stories of Daoist immortals. In Han tombs, where Buddhist imagery is found, it is often found with or in place of the Queen Mother of the West—the same image that is found on many of the bronze mirrors that traveled across to the Japanese archipelago around this time. It was likely that many of the early stories that the laypeople heard were probably fragments as much as anything. Even with the Tripitaka written down, much of the transmission was still done orally. Furthermore, it was in translation—and probably a translation of a translation.
The earliest stories of Buddhism’s transmission—particularly the translation of texts into Sinitic characters, the lingua franca of East Asia—claim that first the Theravada canon, and then later Mahayana texts, were translated in the second century, with foreigners from Parthia and Kushan credited with the early translations. Others would continue the work, and at first it was mostly people from the Western Regions doing the translating.
One of the earliest stories of sutras making their way to the Han dynasty comes from the time of Liu Ying, when his brother, Emperor Ming, sat on the throne. The stories claim that the emperor saw an image of a golden Buddha, and that he requested either a statue or temple be erected. So he sent people off to Kushan, where they found two monks who would come back with them in 68 CE, bringing portraits and scripture—specifically the “Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters”, which the two monks helped translate into a Sinitic version at Baimasi, or White Horse Temple. As such, this “Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters” has been accorded a status as the first such Buddhist work to be brought to the area that is, today, modern China, and the White Horse Temple, located in Luoyang, is counted as one of the earliest temples in the Yellow River region. That said, there are a lot of questions as to the authenticity of this tale, though it does mirror others about the arrival of Buddhism in the East, even if we cannot verify the actual first temple or work.
Although Buddhism arrived during the Han dynasty, it wouldn’t really begin to fully develop until after the dynasty’s fall in the 3rd century. During the Southern and Northern Dynasties period, the metaphysical and doctrinal beliefs of Buddhism began to penetrate the elite circles in a more tangible way. Much of the philosophical underpinnings blended well with the interest at the time in “Dark Studies” and the school of “Pure Conversation”, which we discussed back in episode 72. While Buddhist temples, much like their Daoist brethren, found some sanctuary from the chaos that created this period in the mountains and hills—not to mention a bit of added spiritual cachet—it was really the opportunity to gain greater state patronage that also helped.
Monks like Zhi Dun began to reconcile Buddhist thought and doctrine with local beliefs. In some cases, local religious figures—including gods and other spirits—were incorporated into the Buddhist framework, often by their “conversion” to the Buddha’s teachings. This was one of the strengths of Buddhism—although it carried with it a framework of Indian religious teachings and thoughts, it was not exclusive in its cosmological outlook. Buddhism was more focused on helping one escape the suffering of this world, which would take you beyond all such things. As the doctrines were meant for all beings—not just humans, but for animals, spirits, gods, and even demons—there was nothing to necessarily exclude other beliefs. This helped some of the ethnic Han dynasties to accept and even promote Buddhism.
Meanwhile, some of the non-ethnic Han dynasties patronized Buddhism for either its miraculous powers or just because it was a foreign religion, much like they were foreigners in the Yellow River Basin. In many cases, state-sponsorship was a two way street. Dynasts would set themselves up as holy men, claiming to be Boddhisatvas. They would even appropriate the concept of the Cakravartin, a Buddhist “Golden-Wheel-Turning-King”, which had overtones of cosmic overlordship. I can see how that would fit in quite well with local concepts that a sovereign might lay claim to ruling “all under heaven” and be carrying out a “Heavenly mandate”.
Along the Yangzi River, Buddhist monks gained a certain amount of independence. They were not expected to bow to the sovereign, for example; an acknowledgment of their holy nature. In the northern Wei dynasty, however, it was a different story. There, the ruler was said to be no less than an incarnation of the Buddha, and a Chief Monk was selected to oversee the Sangha and no doubt ensure that the various Buddhist communities were in line with official dogma. At the same time, the government provided captured men and women to work fields to help pay for Buddhist temples and their work. Likewise, people would make merit by donating wealth and land to temples, in hopes of blessings either in this current life or in the next life. For their part, the temples were expected to act as storehouses or granaries—the wealth that poured into them would be used to help alleviate suffering, especially in the case of droughts or floods.
It soon became clear, however, that more wealth was going into the temples than was necessarily coming out. There were attempts to reign in this Buddhist establishment, often by limiting the number of temples or even the number of monks, as well as limiting what people could donate. These same edicts were undercut by the elites of the country, however, and often proved less than effectual.
Along with sutras and Buddhist teachings, Buddhist images and architecture spread widely. In India and the Western Regions, a key aspect of many temples was the stupa. This was a mound containing a relic of some sort. Originally these relics were said to be remnants of the Buddha, after he had been cremated. Later, it was said that the remnants of the Buddha turned hard, like crystal, and that the original remains were gathered up and distributed to even more stupas. Later they may contain other relics, as well.
The stupa was an important part of the Buddhist temple, but over time, its character changed. Instead of a mound like we still see in Southeast Asia, we start to see a building—a tower—which became a ubiquitous symbol of Buddhist temples in East Asia. This multi-level pagoda originally started off with simply three levels, often made of brick and stone, but over time it grew with five or seven levels. These towers were inspired by a description in the Lotus Sutra, a Mahayana text, that described a bejeweled seven-storey tower.
Speaking of the Lotus Sutra, this was one of the many teachings that made its way to East Asia, and a hugely influential one. It purports to tell the story of a sermon by the Buddha outside of those mentioned in the Theravada texts. The teachings expounded upon in the Lotus Sutra had a great impact on Mahayana Buddhism and how people viewed the teachings of the Buddha. For one, it also proposed the idea that the Buddha did not actually cease to exist when he attained nirvana, but is simply no longer visible. He still remains in the world to help all life find salvation from suffering. That goes along with the concept of the Bodhisattva, a being who attains a Buddha-like understanding but out of compassion remains in the world to assist others.
The Lotus Sutra also made claims such as the idea that anyone could attain Buddhahood, if they followed the teachings—and not just one particular set of teachings. It opened the idea that there were multiple vehicles—that is to say different practices—that would all get you to the truth, to Englightenment. Even the term “Mahayana” means the “Great Vehicle”, while Mahayana sees Theravada as “Hinayana”, the “Lesser Vehicle”. Both will get you where you need to be, but Mahayana offers an exapansion of teachings and texts that Theravada Buddhism does not necessarily accept as authentic. Indeed in Mahayana belief we also see a focus on multiple Buddhas with different specialties – not only the historical Buddha, but Vairocana, aka Dainichi Nyorai, the Great Solar Buddha, Amitabha, aka Amida Nyorai or Amida Butsu, and so on.
In comparison, the Theravada school tend to be more dogmatic on various points of practice and belief, claiming that they focus on the actual teachings of the Historical Buddha and not necessarily looking for extra texts and practices. There may have been Buddhas in previous ages that attained nirvana and departed this existence, but the Buddha of the current age is the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni. Another Buddha, Maitreya, is not expected for another five to ten thousand years—not until the teachings of the Buddha have been forgotten and are once again required. Acquiring freedom from this existence through nirvana is not necessarily one and the same with obtaining Buddhahood—the enlightened understanding required to save all beings.
There is another school, “Vajrayana”, the “Lightning” or “Diamond” vehicle. It focuses on tantric, or esoteric teachings, which practitioners believe provide a more direct, and faster method to enlightenment. Many secret teachings, or mikkyo in Japanese, can trace themselves in some way to these practices, though it likely didn’t make it to East Asia until the Tang dynasty or so in the 8th century, so we’ll come back to it when we get to things like Kuukai and Saichou, who brought Shingon and Tendai, respectively, to Japan in the early 9th century—about four centuries from our current chronological position.
Both the Mahayana and Vajrayana schools included the teachings from the Lotus Sutra, which would become one of the most important sutras, certainly by the Tang dynasty, as well as in the Korean Peninsula and the Japanese archipelago. Its widespread dissemination is often attributed to the famous monk Kumarajiva. Kumarajiva was a citizen of Kucha, one of the oasis towns along the northern edge of the Tarim Basin, and site of a bustling metropolis and capital of one of the largest oasis kingdoms in the Tarim basin. Even today, you can see remnants of the ancient city in the desert, and the dry conditions have preserved a number of artifacts, including plenty of texts referencing Buddhist and other beliefs.
Kumarajiva traveled from the peripheral city of Dunhuang, another site renowned for its Buddhist roots, especially the famous Mogao caves—a series of Buddhist grottoes built into a cliff face which, along with the dry conditions, have exquisitely preserved the early sculpture and painting, as well as, again, numerous documents. He came to Chang’an around 401, and he helped translated numerous Buddhist scriptures into Sinitic characters, which could then be shared and read by people across East Asia—everywhere in the ancient Sinic sphere of influence.
Besides the Lotus Sutra, another famous text told of the Buddha Amithabha, aka Amida Butsu in Japan. Amithabha’s teachings claimed that any who would call on the name of Amithabha, or just picture them in their mind with a sincere heart, would, on their death, find themselves reborn in a Western Paradise—a “Pure Land” where there were no distractions other than to meditate on the Buddha’s teachings and eventually attain freedom from this existence. Whereas many of the teachings and theological discussions of the various Buddhist schools could get quite complex—thus almost requiring any serious student to join a monastery if they wanted to truly study a particular flavor—the teachings of Amithabha were appealing to those without necessarily a lot of time or resources. It boiled down to a few practices that just about anyone could do. It didn’t require that you donate huge sums of money or land, or that you spend all your day copying scriptures. One could chant the name of Amithabha in the fields as you were working, or picture them in your mind as you prepared for bed.
These kinds of practices—the chanting of particular mantras or other such things—became a kind of thing people could do to help protect themselves or ward off evil. A particular example of this practice is preserved in a text from Dunhuang, which has a colophon explaining its purpose. According to Patricia Ebrey’s translation, the text, which was copied by someone named Sun Sizhong, was an incantation that, if said 7, 14, or 21 times a day, with various somatic and material components (willow twig to cleanse the mouth, scattering flowers and incense before the image of the Buddha, and kneeling and joining the palms of the hands) it would clear away the four grave sins, the five wicked acts, and other transgressions. “The current body would not be afflicted by “untimely” calamities, and one will be reborn into the realm of immeasurably long life. Plus, reincarnation in the female form would be escaped forever.”
On that last piece—yeah, Buddhism came with a little bit of baggage. In ordering all of life, men were seen as inherently higher on the ladder than women. This discrimination has been walked back or even abolished in some modern interpretations, but it was definitely present in older beliefs.
Besides the power of the incantation if said 7, 13, or 21 times a day, Sun Sizhong went on to explain that if someone recited it 100 times in the evening and then at noon and it will ensure rebirth in the “Western Regions”, while 200,000 recitations gets you perfect intelligence, and 300,000 recitations, one will see Amitabha Buddha face to face and be reborn in the Pure Land.
As you can probably start to see, there were many different beliefs and teachings that fell under the Mahayana teachings, and many of the texts were translations. Even those that had been translated into Sinitic, it was often done by foreigners for whom the local Sinic language was not their native tongue, so there was always a kind of awareness that important pieces might have been lost in translation along the way. In the 5th century, this led some monks to make the particularly long and dangerous journey all the way to Kushan and on to India, to access the original primary sources for themselves. One of these was a monk by the name of Faxian.
At the age of 62, Faxian decided to go to India to try to get to the heart of what the Buddha really taught. He set out in 399, traveled across the Tarim Basin and into the Kashmir region and the Indus Valley—Gandhara, in modern Pakistan. From there he traveled to central India and arrived at Patna, where he stayed and studied for three years. He traveled around, seeking out works in Sanskrit on Buddhsit ethics and teachings, studying the local languages as well. In 410 he made his way to the mouth of the Ganges and down to Sri Lanka, where he stayed for almost two years before boarding a ship and traveling home—traveling through the straits of Malacca and around Southeast Asia to take the sea route back to his home.
The journey was perilous, and at least twice the boat lost its way. According to the stories, some of his fellow travelers, who followed more Brahmanic teachings rather than Buddhist, believed that Faxian and his quote-unquote “heretical” teachings were what were leading them astray. Faxian was able to maintain order and he and his books eventually made it safely to the Shandong peninsula in or around 412.
He made his way down to Jiankang, aka modern Nanjing on the Yangzi river. There he spent the rest of his life translating the scriptures he had brought back. Others would make similar journeys, all to try to find more authentic versions of the texts—which usually meant finding the Sanskrit version—and then creating translations from those.
With the growth in popularity in Buddhism, it is probably little wonder that it eventually made its way over to the Korean peninsula. It is hard to say exactly when Buddhism arrived, but the Baekje annals in the Samguk Sagi claim that it was brought there by a monk of Central Asia descent in about 384. One year later, we are told the king of Baekje erected a temple and caused ten men to become monks.
The timing of this generally accords with some of the information in the Nihon Shoki, which claims that Buddhism first came from the Western Regions to the Han dynasty, and then to Baekje 300 years later, and then to Yamato about 100 years after that. While the dates aren’t exact, this generally accords with what we know of the way that Buddhism traveled to East Asia and to Baekje, at least.
Although we have textual evidence, there isn’t much archaeological evidence for Buddhism on the Korean peninsula in this time outside of urban centers. That is where we find temple rooftiles and other indications that Buddhism was practiced, but at the time it was probably something more common amongst elites than the common people, at least in the 4th and early 5th centuries. With the invasions by Goguryeo and the loss of northern territory in about 475, it did gain increased patronage. Still, it wasn’t until the 6th century that it really left the urban centers, which is roughly the time we are talking about with the Yamato sovereign Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou.
Next episode we’ll get into just how Buddhism came over to the islands—or at least what is recorded and what we have evidence for—in the sixth century. We’ll also talk about its reception and its patronage by the famous Soga clan.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Lewis M. E. (2009). China between empires : the northern and southern dynasties (First Harvard University Press paperback). Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
沈福伟 (1996). Cultural flow between china and outside world throughout history (1st ed.). Foreign Languages Press.
Skilton, Andrew (1994). A Concise History of Buddhism. Barnes & Nobles Books, by arrangement with Windhorse Publications. ISBN 0-7607-4829-2.
Ebrey P. B. (1993). Chinese civilization : a sourcebook (Second edition revised and expanded). Free Press.

Episode 83: Shakyamuni, aka the Historical Buddha

April 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Image of the Buddha at Asukadera, one of the earliest temples in Japan (though the original is no longer extant). Buddhism would bring major changes to the archipelago. Photo by author

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This episode we are talking about Shakyamuni, the Historical Buddha, as we start a multi-episode look at Buddhism and how it came to the Japanese archipelago, as well as what it changed.

Who’s Who

SiddhartHa Gautama

The “Historical Buddha”. Believed to have been born around the 6th century CE, Siddhartha Gautama was born to the Shakya clan and became known as Shakymuni (sage of the Shakyas) and given the title of “Buddha”, or “Awakened One”. Buddhists believe that Siddhartha became awakened to the truths of existence and helped define a way to escape the suffering that exists in the mortal plane.

Ashoka the Great

A ruler on the Indian subcontinent around the 3rd century BCE who helped patronize Buddhism. While some histories claim that he completely converted to Buddhism to the exclusion of all else, there is evidence that he patronized multiple religions, though it is clear that Buddhist concepts entered into his lexicon in the form of his various edicts, which are found in inscriptions across his empire.

Buddhist Concepts

Tripitaka

Tri = Three and Pitaka = Basket, so this is literally “three baskets”. This describes the three groups of canonical Buddhist texts. There are the Sutras (Sutta Pitaka), the Vinaya (Vinaya Pitaka), and the Abhidharma (Abhidharma Pitaka).

Sutra

A document that describes the teachings of the historical Buddha, aka Shakyamuni. It includes recollections of his sermons and what he taught. Later there would be other Sutras that likewise claim to be canonical, but would not all be accepted as truth.

Vinaya

The written precepts for laypersons and monks. There are different lists, but they tend to have similar admonitions.

Abhidharma

Other writings about the teachings of the Buddha. These are not necessarily the actual teachings so much as scholarly discussion

Jataka Tales

While not necessarily canonical, these are stories about the previous lives of the Buddha.

The Three Jewels

The Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha

Buddha

“Awakened One”. Technically it can describe anyone who has achieved an enlightened state, but it often refers to the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni.

Dharma

The teachings of the Buddha.

Sangha

The community of believers.

The Four Sights

Four encounters that Siddhartha Gautama had that led him to seek a solution to human suffering. These were encounters with a person experiencing old age, disease, and even a dead body, along with encountering a wandering ascetic.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 83: Shakyamuni, aka the Historical Buddha.
First a quick note—it has been brought to my attention that some of the episodes are out of order, particularly the older episodes. I’m going to try to fix that. It probably has to do with a decision I made about a year or so in to not worry about the “season” number, since this isn’t exactly a “seasonal” show. But if some episodes are marked as “Season 1” then they likely show up differently. I’ll probably see if I can’t just remove the “Season” number from all of the episodes and hopefully that will fix it.
Last episode we talked about the happenings over on the Korean Peninsula during the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou, and it wasn’t looking very good for Yamato and their allies. Over the course of the last several decades in our story the kingdom of Silla rose to power, brokered a deal with Baekje, and then ended up eating up all of the smaller polities that sat between them, including Nimna, Kara, and whatever else was there.
A Baekje-Yamato alliance attempted to put the brakes on Silla’s ambitions, but despite some major offensives they were thwarted time and again. Overall, it seems rather a bleak outlook for Yamato, but there were several things going for it. For one thing, with their close relationship with Baekje, Yamato was getting a plethora of new ideas—from how to govern to the subject of our current episode: religion.
That’s right, if you didn’t figure it out from the title, we are finally going to talk about Buddhism.
The Buddhist religion and its accompanying institutions have played a huge role in the development of Japan and Japanese culture, and so we are going to want to understand something about this and where it came from, and the journey it took to get to the islands.
And to start with, let’s go back to the very beginning, of what Buddhism actually is.
Now this isn’t going to be an in depth history of Buddhism, but I am going to try to hit the high points so that we have some context for things we’ll see later on. It should also be noted that, while the core of the religion remained the same, specific beliefs and practices were not always universal across all people and at all times. Also, not everyone believes in exactly the same things, and as an outsider I’m going to do my best, but this will probably be more at the level of a Wiki article than a scholarly treatise. If you are interested in more, I highly recommend looking into what various scholars have written.
Also, a lot of what I’m pulling from is Andrew Skilton’s book, “A Concise History of Buddhism”, mainly because I think it fits what we are trying to outline here, but I recognize that there other teachings and scholarly discussions. Still, I think most of what we talk about will probably be at an even higher level than that book gets into.
And that brings me to another thing that's important to say up front: when I say Buddhism, I'm not necessarily talking about Zen, or any particular sect, at least not right now - though Zen is Buddhism, or a school of Buddhism. Likewise you might also hear about Tendai, Shingon, or even Jodo, or Pure Land, Buddhism— those are all sects within Buddhism, and just some of the schools that made it to Japan, although a lot of them don't appear until after the time we’re currently in. The differences between these sects could be likened to the differences between Roman Catholicism and various Protestant groups—or even with the Orthodox church. While they have differences, they also have their similarities, and the core beliefs that make them all Buddhist.
As to why this is so important—Buddhism had a huge impact on the development of Japan. As we’ll talk about in a later episode, the adoption of Buddhism affected not just the philosophical thinking of the Japanese court, but had direct impacts that would bring about the end of what we consider the Kofun era. Furthermore, having at least a cursory understanding of Buddhism is going to be useful in understanding some of the ways people thought about the world they inhabited.
Finally: I am probably going to butcher the pronunciation on a lot of Buddhist terms, but I will do my best. Where possible I may preference the Japanese terms, both because they are more familiar to me, but also because that is how most of us will encounter them in the context of Japanese history.
Buddhism gets its name from the fact that it promulgates the teachings of the Buddha, the Enlightened One, and while various people are believed to have attained this enlightened state over the course of human history, we usually are referring to the individual known to us as the Historical Buddha, also known to us as Siddartha Gautama.
Tradition holds that Siddartha was the son of one of the elites of the Shakya clan—later this would translate into the term “Prince”, though some think that term may not be quite accurate. Still he was born into power and privilege, at the height of his society; later this would translate into him being considered a member of the Kshatriya warrior class. His birthplace is thought to be located in “Lumbini”, at the foothills of the Himalayan mountains, in modern Tibet, in the 6th century BCE. Some traditions put the year of his birth at about 566 BCE, though there are those that suggest a later date, even into the 5th century.
From a young age, we are told that Siddartha was protected from much of the outside world, living a life of luxury, and unaware of the poverty and suffering that went on outside of the palace walls. You see, a seer had predicted that he would be destined to lead an empire—either political or spiritual. And so his father did everything he could to ensure that Siddartha would aspire to the political. Even though his mother had died when he was young, Siddartha was largely insulated from any suffering until his teenage years, and he was even provided a young wife, Yashodhara, by the time he was sixteen years old—which probably wasn’t that young, back in those days.
It was as a young man, in his late twenties, traveling about the land in a carriage, that Siddhartha saw four sights that suddenly set his mind on a different path. First, he saw an old man, and in asking about him, it occurred to him that old age and infirmity were the inevitable outcome of life; there is no escaping it. Likewise he encountered people suffering from disease and even death, in the form of a dead body. All of this forced him to confront the fact that suffering is a part of life here on the mortal plane. Finally, he encountered a wandering ascetic, which got him to thinking about spiritual matters, and that perhaps there must be a better way—a solution to all of this suffering.
As he contemplated what to do, he was suddenly graced with what should have been wonderful news: his wife had just given birth to a son. However, to Siddhartha, he saw this child as simply one more thing that was keeping him from going out and seeking answers to the problems he saw. The comfort of his life, the social obligations, the privileges he had were all metaphorical chains, keeping him from going out really trying to answer the questions he had.
And so, at the age of 29, he absconded himself. He left his wife and child. He left the power and prestige and worldly possessions he had inherited from his family, and he went out to seek answers and to find out how to put an end to suffering.
To do this, he sought out teachers, one after the other, learned what they had to teach, found himself at the end of what they could give him, and moved on. These teachers provided various meditation techniques, which helped, perhaps, to ease or even forget the pain and suffering of existence, but the pain and suffering were still there, nonetheless.
It should be noted that a core belief at this time was in the concept of reincarnation. The idea that, based on your karmic balance, that is the difference between the good and evil that you did, here in the world, you would be reborn after death into a new body and a new life. If you did well, then you would be born higher up the ladder of existence, perhaps into a better caste or more. But if you committed sins and evil acts then you would find yourself born further down the ladder of existence, perhaps even as an animal or an insect.
The problem, as Siddartha saw it, was that all of this just meant you kept going back through the same things over and over again, coming back into the world, and once more experiencing suffering. Even stories of the gods themselves tell of their wants and needs, and of their fighting, suffering, and even dying. As long as one stayed on the wheel of life and death, suffering would be inevitable, and you’d always come back around to it.
He sought out answers in some of the extreme forms of asceticism. Holding his breath for long periods. Starving himself. These were meant to bring on a state wherein he hoped he would find the answers. Eventually, though, he spurned these techniques as well, claiming they were dangerous and unnecessary.
He instead ate food in reasonable quantities, and found a form of meditation that felt natural. In other words, he sought out a path between the extremes of hedonistic overindulgence and severe deprivation—a Middle Way, one might say. Practicing this tempered form of existence, he meditated under a tree, and it was there that Siddartha Gautama achieved an awakening, or enlightenment.
He could see the world for what it truly was, and gained profound insight into our condition. This is how he became known as Buddha, or “the one who has awoken”, to quote Andrew Skilton. He was only 35 years old—he had been studying for 6 years to this point, when he finally found the answers he was looking for.
Quick side note right here: For many, “Buddha” is not a single person or individual. People may talk about the historical Buddha to refer to Siddhartha Gautama, but technically “Buddha” is a title for anyone who has awakened to the truths of the universe. Buddhist traditions would come to define various people who had attained this enlightened state, though Siddhartha Gautama is generally considered the most important for the current era.
Siddhartha Gautama spent the next forty-five years or so of his life wandering the land and teaching his Middle Way to anyone who would listen. He initially spent time teaching in the area of the Bodhi Tree, where he had first experienced his revelation, and this area is known to us as Bodh Gaya. He later went to a deer park in the area of Rshipatana, where five of the ascetics whom he used to hang out with were gathered.
These ascetics had known Siddhartha when they were all practicing extreme deprivation together. They had come to see him as a teacher, but turned from him when he spurned his own attainments and started on his Middle Path. It took some initial convincing, but Siddhartha was eventually able to convince them and bring them around.
From five, Siddhartha’s disciples soon grew to 60, and he sent them out across the land to share his teachings with the people. His community of followers—known as his Sangha—continued to grow. As for Siddhartha himself, he seems to have focused much of his time on urban centers, with much of the last 20 to 25 years spent weathering the rainy monsoon seasons in the city of Sravasti.
When he was 80 years old, Siddhartha grew seriously ill, possibly from something he ate. Realizing his own state, it is said that he predicted his death in three days, and he passed away among a grove of trees. Seven days later, his remains were cremated, and, much as with holy men everywhere, bone and teeth left over from the cremation were distributed as relics. Tradition holds that ten relics went to ten rulers for burial under stupas, or memorial mounds, as a tribute to Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha.
After his death, his disciples continued to grow the community, or Sangha, and spread the word. The life and teachings of the Buddha were written down in various documents and these were copied into different languages.
In about the 3rd century BCE, Buddhism gained a powerful patron in the form of Ashoka. No, not the Togruta jedi, Ahsoka Tano, but the Mauryan king, Ashoka the Great. Much of what comes down to us about Ashoka is as likely legend as fact, but we do know some things for certain because Ashoka left his own words carved in stone across his kingdom. Many of these mention Buddhist ideas and concepts and even identify key sites, such as the site of Lumbini, where Siddhartha Gautama was born.
At the same time, I would be remiss in not pointing out that it can be difficult to suss out just what Ashoka believed. He certainly patronized Buddhism, much as Constantine patronized Christianity, including calling councils together to help ensure Buddhist orthodoxy, but it also can be read as a form of propaganda, utilizing Buddhist concepts to strengthen his own rule. We’ll see how later sovereigns would use similar tactics to lay claim to being a Buddhist sovereign, as well.
Whatever his motivations, the pillars and inscriptions left from the 3rd century BCE provide us some of the first instances of the term “Buddha”, as well as another name, “Shakyamuni”, the “Sage of the Shakyas”; the “Shakyas” being Siddhartha’s own people.
So with the patronage of Ashoka the Great, the influence of Buddhism spread. But what was it?
Well, what we know is what was passed down, first as oral tradition, and later written down.
First of all, all things in existence are impermanent. That is they come and go. People live and they die. Even we change, moment from moment, nothing is truly static in this world—even if it were to last for thousands and thousands of years.
Then there is suffering—the bane of humankind’s existence. However, it is also inescapable, at least in this life. Describing suffering, and his solution to it, Siddhartha, aka Shakyamuni, revealed the Four Noble Truths, which are at the heart of Buddhist teaching. They are, roughly:
· Suffering is an innate characteristic of existence. Even the greatest pleasure eventually fades, leaving longing in its wake. No matter how many times you go round the wheel of life and death, you cannot escape it.
· Suffering arises because of our desires. From our material wants and needs to simply our desire to not be hungry or cold.
· Ending our attachment can help us put an end to suffering.
· To put an end to desire, and thus to suffering, one should follow the Eightfold Path.
So the four noble truths are something like a diagnosis of the human condition and then a potential solution. By the way, notice the numbers four and eight—just as Christianity tends to find particular value in the number seven (seven deadly sins, seven heavenly virtues, etc.) and 12 (Jesus and the 12 Apostles), Buddhism finds particular significant in the number eight, and, to some degree, the number four, although that would clash in some areas of East Asia, where the word for “four” sounded like the word for death.
And that eight is found in Shakyamuni’s recipe for how to end suffering:
Right understanding
Right resolve
Right speech
Right action
Right livelihood
Right effort
Right mindfulness
Right concentration
These are all individual actions for someone to strive to achieve, but they are also pretty vague. After all, what is “Right Understanding” or “Right Resolve”? That feels kind of like giving someone directions by saying “take the right road and you’ll get to where you want to go”.
Indeed, Buddhism therefore offers various precepts for how to live your life in accordance with the eightfold path. There are precepts for the lay person and precepts for monks and nuns. These include the requirement to avoid taking a life, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying, and even harsh, frivolous, or senseless speech. There are also positive admonitions, such as to cultivate loving kindness and speech that is truthful, kindly, helpful, etc. There are different lists of these precepts, but they generally include the same things.
On top of this were the rules for monks, including such things as fasting after midday; no singing or dancing; no garlands, scent, or adornments; no luxurious beds; and a vow of poverty—no accepting gold or silver, the coin of the day.
Besides following the precepts, there were various teachings and practices that monks and lay persons can follow. Most common are various techniques of meditation, meant to help open the mind to see beyond the surface of what we can perceive with our eyes and our ears and to transform one’s consciousness.
All of this was geared towards the eventual attainment of a state of enlightenment, and eventually, nirvana. Contrary to many popular portrayals, though, nirvana is not some kind of heavenly existence. After all, any existence in this plane, at least as we know it, was still suffering. Instead, to attain nirvana meant to escape the cycle of death and rebirth entirely. How and what that looks like may vary depending on your interpretation, but that is generally agreed upon as the ultimate goal of Buddhist practice.
This does not mean that there was not a concept of a heaven or a hell in Buddhism. While some have suggested that much of Buddhism and Buddhist practice is philosophical in nature, or geared more towards mindful practice, it is also steeped in certain cosmological views of the universe, and greatly influenced by the beliefs in the Indian subcontinent. Gods and demons, however, were simply different orders of existence, and even gods and demons could seek their own escape from suffering if they chose to do so.
It appears as though Buddhism was originally passed down as an oral tradition amongst the community of Shakyamuni’s followers. Eventually this was written down in texts, describing Buddhism for those who came later. The canonical texts that outline the Dharma, that is to say the teachings of the historical Buddha, are known as sutras. They contain the actual words of the historical Buddha, or so it is believed, and the core of his teachings.
Then there are the Vinaya, which are those writings about the community, or Sangha, and the rules for the community and for various monks. These came about as the community grew, and various Buddhists in different areas, without access to the direct disciples of the Buddha themselves, started to vary in their practices. As such, the Vinaya texts were written to try to give some shared reference material.
Finally, there are the Abhidharma texts, which are further writings about the teachings, generally with a more scholarly bent. They elaborate upon what is found in the sutras, but are not considered the actual teachings of the historical Buddha.
Together, these three classes of texts are known in the Buddhist tradition as the Tripitaka, or three baskets, with any canonical text generally falling into one of the three descriptions.
I’ll note that it is unclear to me just when these texts were written down. The oldest extant sutra fragments are from sometime between the 1st century BCE and the 3rd century CE, but some of the texts—particularly sutras and Abhidharma texts, were likely around much earlier. Various traditions make claims to when different texts were written, but it can be hard, sometimes, to discern fact from fiction.
There is also at least one other form of Buddhist literature which would be important in its spread, and that is the jataka tales. These are stories about the previous lives of the Buddha. Much like Aesop’s fables or the parables found in the Bible, these are stories that contain lessons and often help to break down or explain a particular point, but they are not necessarily the direct teachings of the Buddha himself.
The focus of the canon was to help define and preserve the Three Jewels of Buddhism: Memory of the Historical Buddha, Siddartha Gautama, aka the Shakyamuni Buddha; the Dharma, which is to say, his teachings, and the Sangha, or the community of followers.
Over time, things changed. Early on, Buddhist monks would wander much of the year, coming back together during the rainy seasons and then dispersing again. At various times they would call a council and come together and ensure they still held the same doctrines, though even with that, differences began to form. At first it was just over things like the rules of conduct, which might differ in one place or another. Eventually, though, different sutras began to appear here and there, claiming to describe different teachings of the Buddha. One such sutra is the Lotus Sutra, which claims to tell the story of what the Buddha taught after his last sermon. It claims that after most of the people had left, the Buddha began another discourse just for those who remained, and that became known as the Lotus sutra, one that many will likely have heard of. Other texts include the Heart Sutra and the Diamond Sutra.
Not everyone accepted these texts as factual and canonical scriptures, however. Particularly in the south, down to Sri Lanka, many of the Buddhist communities continued to focus on what they considered the orthodox canonical texts, while others began to incorporate these new sutras into their practice. Those sects that accepted the new sutras, which often focused on the concept of Boddhisatvas—individuals who had done all they needed to attain Buddhahood, but who had “remained” in this world to help shepherd and guide others—or on various tantric and spiritual techniques to attain Buddhahood for themselves, became known as the Mahayana, or Great Vehicle, sects. On the other hand, those sects that denied the authenticity of such sutras and which tried to keep to what they believed was the original tripitaka became known as Theravada Buddhism. Today, Theravada Buddhism tends to be more popular in Southeast Asia, in places like Myanmar, Thailand, and Laos, while Mahayana Buddhism tends to define many of the practices in Tibet, China, Korea, and Japan.
In addition to changes in what people considered doctrine, the nature of the Sangha and Buddhist worship changed as well. Over time, monasteries were set up as specific places where monks could settle down. This may have originally arisen from the places where they would gather during the monsoons, but they eventually became places where the monks themselves stayed, and where individuals might come to learn. In addition, there was a rise in the worship of holy relics, and many such settlements would have one or more stupas containing some form of holy relic that the people could pray to.
People also built statues depicting the Buddha and other figures from the stories. An entire school of how to depict various Buddhas and other figures came about, with specific hand gestures and postures imparting specific meaning to what was built. Traditions arose around how to build these temples and monasteries as well as to how to build the various statues and even to specific identifying features that would call out the Buddha, such as long fingers, drooping earlobes that had once held heavy and elaborate earrings, toes that were all the same length, et cetera. The features of Buddha images—especially the faces—would change in different areas. Much as Jesus is often depicted as a white man, Buddha would typically be depicted with features similar to the people who were making the image. Still, certain aspects remain the same from one tradition to another such that they are all recognizable as the Buddha.
From Shakyamuni’s home south of the Himalayas, Buddhism would eventually spread, following the trade routes of the so-called Silk Road. Buddhist missionaries appear to have made contact with the Han dynasty, but it wasn’t until the Northern and Southern states period that it really took off. Likewise, it made its way to the Korean peninsula, and from there to Japan.
But those are all things to save for our next episode, when we take a look at just how this new religion grew and expanded and became so influential in the continent and eventually in the peninsula and the archipelago itself.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Skilton, Andrew (1994). A Concise HIstory of Buddhism. Barnes & Nobles Books, by arrangement with Windhorse Publications. ISBN 0-7607-4829-2.

Episode 82: The Fate of Nimna

March 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

6th century iron armor from Haman, South Korea, the area associated with the Ara kingdom of the Kara (or Gaya) confederacy. This style of armor goes back to at least the 4th century and can be found in the archipelago as well as on the peninsula. Armor at the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

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This episode focuses on the struggle that was happening on the peninsula. Below is a rough timeline, and some of the people involved. There is also an excerpt at the bottom on the fate of Kawabe no Nihe and his wife, which I wanted to acknowledge, but given the subject matter thought it best not to include in the main podcast.

Timeline

502 - Silla officially becomes "Silla" (or "Sinra") (SS)

514 - Ara conference (NS)

525 - Baekje exchanges gifts with Silla (SS) [Note: This may be anachronistic and misplaced by about 60 years...]

527 - King of Kara initiates closer ties with Silla (SS)

529 - Baekje gets a port closer to Yamato--possibly taken from Kara's territory (NS)

530 - Baekje and Silla team up against a Kena no Omi (NS)

532 - Nimna and Ara are incorporated into Silla's territory (NS)

532 - Keumgwan Gaya (Kara) submits to Silla (NS, SS)

537 - Yamato supports Baekje against Silla and possibly Goguryeo (NS)

539 - Ame Kunioshi takes the throne (NS)

546 - Succession dispute in Goguryeo (NS) / King Yangweon of Gogureyo takes the throne (SS)

550 - Goguryeo attacks Baekje (SS)

551 - Baekje and Sill push back on Goguryeo taking Hansyeong (modern Seoul) and Pyongyang (NS) / Silla takes territory from Goguryeo (SS)

552 - Baekje abandons Hansyeong to Silla. (NS)

553 - Baekje requests further troops from Yamato (NS) / Silla seized Baekje's northeastern border region and calls it Sin province (Sin-ju) (SS) / Yeochyang leads a force against Goguryeo (NS)

554 - King Seong of Baekje dies in an attack on Silla (NS, SS)

561 - Baekje dispatches troops to raid Silla (SS)

562 - Silla stops the troops from Baekje (SS) / Kara rebels and the rebellion is put down (SS) / Yamato and Baekje attack Silla on behalf of Nimna, with Ki no Womaro and Kawabe no Nihe leading the charge; they suffer defeat at Silla's hands (NS) / Ohotomo no Sadehiko successfully raids a city in Goguryeo

571 - Ame Kunioshi dies and urges his successor to continue to try to resist Silla and reinstate Nimna (NS)

Dramatis Personae

Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Niha, aka Kinmei Tennō - Son of Wohodo no Ōkimi and his queen, Tashiraga—or at least that is what the Chronicles tell us. He was one of the youngest sons of Wohodo, and probably came to the throne in his 20s or 30s. He is our current sovereign this episode—and for a few episodes to come.

Ōtomo no Muraji no Sadehiko - Son of the famous Kanamura, he had previously been sent on expeditions to the continent to support Nimna. Now we find him at the head of a raiding party against Goguryeo.

Soga no Iname no Sukune no Ōmi - For anyone reading ahead, you know where this is going. Soga no Iname is the first Soga to achieve the rank of Ōmi. The fact that he has a personal rank of Sukune is not insignificant, either, though it is unclear when he actually achieved that—there is a tendancy in the Chronicles to use the last title a person had when talking about them. Still, there is little doubt that he will feature prominently in stories to come.

King Seong of Baekje - King of Baekje during much of this episode until his death. Reigned 523-554.

Prince Yeochyang aka King Witeok of Baekje - Crown Prince and eventually king of Baekje, he was heavily involved in leading expeditions against both Goguryeo and Silla, if the Nihon Shoki is to be believed. Reigned 554-598.

Prince Kye of Baekje - Later King Hye [r. 598-599], he was the brother to Yeochyang and son to King Seong.

Charo Mato - Possibly just “Mato” as well. They were apparently of Wa and peninsular descent with titles in both the Yamato court and Silla. “Mato” is the name given of a Wa subject who is causing Ara and Nimna to trust Silla.

Ki no Womaro - Yamato general who had some successes against Silla.

Kawabe no Omi no Nihe - A noble who was made deputy general in the war against Silla. Due to his lack of military expertise he is credited with snatching defeat from the jaws of victory against Silla. See below for what happened when he was captured.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 82: The Fate of Nimna.
Before we get into this episode a few notes. First off, this episode deals with war and with the trauma that brings, to include issues of death, sexual assault, and enslavement. I’ll try to be delicate, especially where we don’t need it to get the larger story, and perhaps reference some of it more fully in the show notes at SengokuDaimyo.com/podcast, so go there for more information. That said, I don’t want to just gloss over it, either—these were violent times and history often deals with subjects we’d rather not talk about. We just don’t have to sensationalize it, either.
As we discussed last episode, we are into the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou. According to the dates given in the Nihon Shoki, Ame Kunioshi, the youngest son of Ohohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennou, reigned from 539 to his death in 571. Thirty two years is a respectable reign for any sovereign, especially considering that two of his half brothers had taken the throne ahead of him. Add to this the thought that he may have been co-ruling in some capacity even before then and it is little wonder that he has quite the entry in the Chronicles.
And yet, most of his entry is taken up with an almost singular focus on one thing: Nimna, the polity on the Korean peninsula that is also known as Mimana in Japanese or Imna in modern Korean.
We’ve talked about Nimna in the past, and it is more than a little controversial. Sometimes it is ignored as a complete fabrication of the Japanese chroniclers, and other times it is equated with the larger Kara confederation. I suspect the truth lies in a complicated middle ground that cannot be fully explained as we only have external accounts regarding its existence.
For my part, I think there is enough evidence to suggest that Nimna was a real place, and a place of some import, as it shows up in things like the Gwangaetto Stele, as well as in some of the Sinitic records as well, so it isn’t something that the writers completely made up. At the same time, any talk of “Mimana Nihonfu” suggesting direct control by Japan or Yamato is just as likely made up to support Yamato’s own causus belli, and may have even been included in some of the earlier documents that the Chroniclers themselves were drawing from. There is also the possibility that the term “Nimna” was no longer in use, but still referenced by Yamato, much as they tended to refer to anything in the Yangtze river basin as Kure, or Wu, referencing an old dynasty that had long since been supplanted by others.
A lot of what we read about Nimna comes from the Baekje records that the Chroniclers frequently quoted. Unfortunately, there is no extant copy of this record, and all that we have is the fragments quoted in the Nihon Shoki, where the Chroniclers frequently embellished the accounts. They would often equate, for instance the Wa ethnonym—that is the term “Wa” used to refer to people of ethnic Wa descent—as an automatic reference to actual subjects of Yamato. It is much more likely that there were a variety of ethnic Wa polities—or at least multi-ethnic states with a sizeable Wa population—on the peninsula and the archipelago, outside of those territories directly controlled by Yamato, though by the time the Chroniclers were writing Yamato really was the only “Wa” polity around, at least of any major consequence. At the time, though, Yamato likely held a place of prominence and even immense influence across the various Wa polities on the archipelago and, possibly, on the peninsula, but things weren’t as cut and dried as we tend to think of it regarding states and countries today.
It is quite possible—even likely—that Nimna was important to Yamato, and most especially to the trade that occurred between Yamato and the rest of the continent. Based on various descriptions, Nimna, or the territory defined as such, bordered both Baekje and Silla, and it may have been made up of smaller polities, possibly with a core polity of Nimna at its head. I could even conceive that there may have been a semi-permanent Yamato embassy set up in Nimna—and possibly with the various other polities as well, though the idea that Yamato was actually controlling these states seems to be too much overreach, to me.
Prior to 539, we are told that Nimna had been incorporated into Silla’s territory, around 532, and Aston notes that in the Tongkam the name “Nimna” doesn’t show up after that date. This is also one of the dates generally accepted for the end of any independence of the Kara confederacy as a whole, and when Geumgwan Kara is said to have submitted to Silla.
As for the presence of ethnic Wa people on the peninsula, that does seem fairly well-established, assuming some accuracy to the Baekje record being quoted in the Nihon Shoki. There are several members of various families listed in the accounts that feel as if they are clear references to people of ethnic Wa descent. These are listed alongside other family names—likely of Baekje, Silla, or similar backgrounds. People like Mononobe no Makamu, who is listed as having the Baekje court rank of “Siteok” and who is being sent by Baekje with another envoy, whose name is something like Chinmu Kwimun. There is also a “Ki no Omi” who is listed as a Baekje envoy with the Baekje court rank of “Nasol”, who was also sent with other Baekje envoys to the country of Ara, or Alla. There is speculation by a later commentator that Ki no Omi may have been the son of a courtier who had been sent on one of the expeditions from the archipelago, and a Baekje woman. Then there is “Charomato”, who apparently was born of a “Korean” mother—likely meaning ethnically from the peninsula, but not of Wa descent. Charo Mato held the title of Ohomuraji, meaning the head of a prestigious family, but also held the rank of Namanye in Silla and went around wearing quote-unquote “foreign dress”, and yet the records still identify him as being of Wa descent.
While we’ve discussed the possibility that there were enclaves of Wa in the peninsula since ancient times it is also possible that members of families from the archipelago emigrated to the peninsula for one reason or another. For example, we have Kawachi no Atahe. This individual is noted in the Chronicles as the “Japanese authority” in the country of Ara, sometimes called Alla, which was one of the polities that was apparently lumped into the larger Kara confederacy. At the same time, it looks like Kawachi no Atahe may have been someone who had been exiled from Yamato—or somewhere in the archipelago—suggesting that he wasn’t actually a “Japanese authority” but rather that he was probably a local official who happens to be of Wa descent. In the case of a name like “Kawachi no Atahe”, that certainly appears to be a locative in the Yamato area, of course, but the whole story leaves me with questions.
Now, as I stated, much of this information comes from the Baekje records that the Chroniclers then embellished. For example, the Chroniclers couch almost all of Baekje’s interactions as being subservient to Yamato, rather than as those of an independent ally, and so as we look at this account, I’m going to try my best to address what is going on without too much of the Chroniclers’ biases coming through. But without independent confirmation from another source, that can be somewhat difficult, as many of the stories here are not found in the remaining records in the Samguk Sagi or Samguk Yusa, for example.
Now I’d like to start with something out of the Samguk Sagi, which tells us that in 502 the country of Silla finally came to be known by that name. Up to that point it had been known as Sara or Saro, evolving as it had from a coalition of about six city-states on the eastern edge of the Korean peninsula.
As you may recall, during the reign of Ohodo, aka Keitai Tennou, there was discussion of Yamato hosting talks in Ara around 514. In reality, those were probably talks hosted by Ara itself, which seems to have risen to some prominence at this point. We talked about that back in episodes 76 and 77.
Later, in 529, Baekje gained access to a port to better facilitate communication with their ally, Yamato. This is presented as a gift by Yamato to Baekje, but apparently the King of Kara had other ideas. They had already been on friendly terms with Silla since at least 527, and it seems that after this they turned even more towards Silla’s embrace. Indeed, the Silla annals in the Samguk Sagi tell us that Geumgwan Kara requested a Silla princess around this time, an event that is also recorded in the Nihon Shoki, and would suggest that they were looking for a marriage alliance to cement their position with their powerful Silla neighbor. What began as a marriage alliance, however, quickly turned into outright subjugation by 532. Ara, likewise, seems to have been in Silla’s sphere of influence, if not outright subjugated, by that point, at least if the Nihon Shoki is to be believed. Many considered this the point at which the Kara confederacy had been dissolved, though some histories consider that the individual polities retained some level of independence, resisting complete absorption for another generation or two, until about the early 560s.
In the current reign, things start out in 540, one year into Ame Kunioshi’s rule. King Seong of Baekje brought together a bunch of representatives of the smaller polities, ostensibly to talk about re-establishing Nimna. This is sometimes known as the Sabi conferences, named for the Baekje capital where they likely occurred. Against the backdrop of Silla expansion, Baekje wanted to prop up some of the buffer states in between the two kingdoms. They urged on Nimna at multiple times to re-establish themselves, promising aid, but Ara seems to have balked and suggested a more diplomatic route. This may have been because they were already on the side of Silla—Baekje certainly makes that accusation of Kawachi no Atahe, who held some influence in Ara.
The Chronicles claim Baekje did this to carry out the whim of the Yamato court. In fact, however, it is much more likely that they were playing their own chess game with Silla. The extent to which their ally, Yamato, was actually involved is hard to say. Certainly we have examples of Baekje and Silla making their own alliances. For example, in 525, Baekje records that they exchanged gifts of friendship with Silla, though Best, who translated the records, suggests that this may be misplaced, chronologically, as there is no corresponding record in the Silla annals of the Samguk Sagi. Then of course in 530, the Nihon Shoki notes that Silla and Baekje teamed up against a rogue Wa commander, Kena no Omi, but then in 537, we have Yamato supporting Baekje against a supposed Silla-Goguryeo alliance.
All of these shifting alliances make the accounts read like two very different stories that have been intertwined. On the one hand is the story of Baekje, trying to help the mighty Yamato restore the innocent country of Nimna, despite the pernicious interference of the irreverent Silla. On the other hand we see friendly—or at least tolerable—relations between Silla, Baekje, and Yamato, each agreeing to meet with each other and even ally with the other as the need arose. Unfortunately, we aren’t given many of the deeper thoughts or reasonings, but I lean towards discounting many of the stories that make Silla out to be the bad guy for everything. In fact, it is much more believable that, rather than overarching themes it was a much more complicated and even local situation, where alliances were more matters of convenience and where even during war the various states kept up some kind of dialogue. In addition, we have to remember the biases of Chroniclers who knew what was coming—in the 7th and 8th century it was Silla who was Yamato’s rival, and so here we see them, with the benefit of hindsight, building up to that conflict, which may mean an overemphasis on the threat Silla posed at the time.
As for ethnic Wa involvement in events on the peninsula, while they were not all the responsibility of Yamato, there may be more than a few that were. After all, there were those from Yamato who had been sent on raiding parties and in warbands for one reason or another over the past couple centuries. Then there were various envoys, who could spend considerable amounts of time in a foreign land and even settle down and have kids.
There was also likely another reason for people to move from the archipelago, which was the expansion of Yamato’s own power. As Yamato exerted greater and greater centralized control, anyone on the outs with the ruling authorities may have wanted to seek refuge elsewhere, and given the fluid nature of things at this point in time, it doesn’t seem unreasonable that they may have moved to Baekje, Silla, or even to some of these states in between. Once there, if they had administrative experience, perhaps they were able to find a place for themselves in their new home’s own government structure. The Nihon Shoki records plenty of examples of Baekje, Silla, and even Goguryeo people coming to live in the island chain, so why wouldn’t some people go in the other direction?
This could also explain Yamato’s own somewhat laissez-faire attitude towards Baekje’s considerable entreaties to get a handle on the various Wa people on the mainland, given that they probably had no way to actually compel them to return, let alone listen to what they said. This was likely a source of consternation for the peninsula, much as various pirates and similar independent adventurers would be in later centuries, when the central government often could not, or simply would not, rein in the excesses of those on the periphery.
The Yamato court may have also endorsed the behavior of these various Wa folks to some extent. There are hints that they were in close contact with Silla as well as Baekje, though the relationship does feel more tense, in general. We have to remember that our Chronicles are largely from either early Japanese sources or from Baekje sources viewed through an early Japanese lens. Meanwhile the Samguk Sagi tends to take a very pro-Silla point of view, while the other entities involved don’t get much of a voice at all.
Speaking of which, there are three other polities mentioned in the attempt to reestablish Nimna and to allow the various members of the Kara confederation to have their independence back. One of these we know as “Teokkwithan”, which we are told lay between Kara and Silla, and so without aid from a powerful neighbor, like Nimna, it was constantly harassed. Then there is South Kara, which was small and weak, and without any real allies that it could call on. While we don’t know the exact situation, one assumes it was probably on the coast, again near Kara and Silla. Then there was the state of Chaksyun, which is frankly depicted as evil and double dealing, and thus basically deserving of their eventual fate.
I can’t help but wonder if, in a way, these aren’t just general stand ins for the stories that happened again and again, both in the peninsula but also in the archipelago. Smaller polities ended up as pawns, and often became the ground on which the more powerful states would fight. That meant that most of the damages would accrue to the local lands, and whatever the motives might have been of Silla, Yamato, or Baekje, that was likely disastrous for the local population, and only further hindered their own growth.
Now Baekje regularly tried to entreat Nimna to side with them and to effectively break away from Silla control, but there is plenty of evidence that at least some in Nimna were willing partners with Silla. Baekje complains, for example, about one individual, named Isumi, whom we are told is the Omi in Nimna—possibly referring to his role as a minister, or else a mistranslation of the name Isumi no Omi, I’m not quite sure. He is accused, by Baekje, of conspiring with Silla to attack.
At the same time, recall that Baekje had annexed territory from Nimna, and refused to give it back, claiming that it was necessary as a buffer in case Silla decided to attack them. Really, I don’t see any shining examples of virtue in any of this.
Baekje eventually decided to set up its own fortresses along the river between Ara and Silla—presumably with Ara’s support. Tensions were certainly ramping up, and Baekje’s own reasoning for setting up the fortresses was to make it impossible for the Silla farmers on the other side of the river—presumably the Nakdong river at this point—to be able to tend to their fields. The reasoning given is that if Silla found it too difficult they would just give up the fortresses they themselves had erected and the independent buffer state of Chaksyun, which Silla had also swallowed up, could be restored.
Here I’d like to give a blow by blow of what happened, but we have too much happening too quickly. Besides the confrontation between Baekje and Silla over control of the various territories between them, there was still a threat from Goguryeo at the head of the peninsula. In about 546 a succession dispute in Goguryeo led to fighting between some of the elite factions in the court over their preferred candidates to the throne, leading to massive conflict. Several years later, Goguryeo was again threatening areas to the south, possibly with the support of some of the smaller polities, such as Ara, who may have been looking to break out from both Baekje and Silla control. In response, Baekje appears to have requested assistance from Yamato, but the nature of travel across the straits meant that any troops were slow in coming. This may be why Korean sources like the Tongkam note that Baekje allied with Silla to help stop the Goguryeo threat. This appears to go back to a long standing agreement between Baekje and Silla, to at least 493, where they mutually agreed to push back against Goguryeo, even as they continued to bicker with each other over the territories in their own regions.
During this latest Goguryeo incursion, Baekje even laid some blame on the quote-unquote “Wa authorities” in Ara, whom they blamed for calling Goguryeo to come in the first place. Yamato, for their part had to deny any complicity—they certainly hadn’t egged on Ara to call for Goguryeo to come help. In fact, Yamato was intending to send their own people to Ara to help repopulate the country.
If this all feels like a mess, that really is the sense I’m getting. There was a lot happening, and things could change at a moments notice. Through it all, though, Yamato and Baekje maintained good relations, even if they didn’t always agree.
By 551, it appears as though Baekje and Silla had pushed back on Goguryeo, forcing them to abandon Hansyeong, aka Seoul and later the area known today as Pyongyang. In 552, Baekje abandoned Hansyeong and Silla occupied it, and possibly the Pyongyang area as well, setting up two towns known as Utopang and Nimipang.
In 553, Baekje was requesting more troops from Yamato, and five months later an emissary was on his way back to Baekje with equipment and promises of troops. In the meantime it seems that Silla had been busy allying themselves with Goguryeo, and it looked like they were planning to attack Baekje. And so Prince Yeochyang, son of King Seong of Baekje led troops against Goguryeo.
This is one of the first in depths accounts we actually get of the fighting, although it still remains focused on the personal. In this case the focus is on the prince, who led his troops out to a large plain and set up entrenchments, presumably to await the arrival of their Goguryeo opponents.
They were not disappointed. Local boys, possibly overseeing their herds or tending the fields, had seen the arrival of the Baekje troops and sent word, and overnight an army had appeared. Prince Yeochyang had heard the sound of instruments in the night, but could see nothing. He had his own men beat their drums in response and they kept a strict watch.
The next morning they saw the Goguryeo troops arrayed around them, with banners covering the fields as a hill is covered with green foliage—or so the Chronicles tell us. A man approached on horseback, and we are told that he wore a gorget, or neckguard, and was accompanied by two others who carried instruments, like cymbals, and two more that were adorned with leopards tails in some fashion. This Goguryeo honor guard indicated someone of rank and status who had come for initial parlay.
The Goguryeo prince asked whom they were fighting. Yeochyang answered that he was of the “same name” as they were—that is, he called on his claim to a common Buyeo ancestry with Goguryeo—and mentioned that his rank was that of Hansol, and he was 29 years old. Likewise the Goguryeo prince responded with his own details, which are not recorded, and then they got things started.
First, before the battle, they set up a marked area of the field. Here the two princes would do single combat before the rest of the battle would commence. And so the Baekje and Goguryeo princes fought. Eventually, the Baekje prince knocked his opponent from his horse with his spear, killed him, and cut off his head, raising it on his spearpoint and showing it off to his troops. This gruesome display was met with joy by his own troops, but I daresay not so well on the other side. After that, the rest of the forces engaged, and Baekje eventually pushed back the Goguryeo forces.
So why tell you all of that? There isn’t a single mention of Yamato, and this is all happening in the north. Okay, it is in the Chronicles, but why does that matter to us? Heck, why did it matter to the Chroniclers?
Well, we could point to how Yamato used the Baekje records as if they were an extension of their own power and hegemony, and therefore a Baekje victory was a Yamato victory in their eyes.
This may also be taken out of context as an effort to support the view that Silla and Goguryeo were allying. In his translation of the Baekje annals in the Samguk Sagi, Jonathan Best points out that Silla had been attacking Goguryeo only a year or two earlier—would they really be allying against Baekje at this point? They don’t appear to have given up the territory they gained from Goguryeo, and so I have to wonder if this doesn’t come from earlier, when a Baekje-Silla alliance took Hansyeong and then the area of modern Pyongyang from Goguryeo control.
Regardless, what interests me, besides the fact that it is one of the few accounts of an actual battle, sparse and biased as it may be, is that the form of battle shown here is remarkably similar to something we see later, in the Heian and Kamakura periods, with the rise of the samurai warriors. It is the concept of single combat, and even the announcing of names. This was key, particularly in times when you didn’t always know who was who on the battlefield. First things first—is this an enemy in front of you, or an ally? And where did they come from and what was this all about? These are not questions easily answered by the dead, and where is the prestige in defeating an unknown enemy?
All that said, did it really happen like this? Did they honestly have these kinds of norms around fighting, at least on the peninsula? Quite possibly they did, at times, though it is also just as possible that this was more of a literary device than anything else—something to let the reader know what was going on and who was involved.
This also seems to kick off the wars in earnest. Up to this point, a lot of the fighting, assuming it happened, was largely off-screen, so to speak, with a focus on more diplomatic efforts, or simply the building of fortresses. It is not dissimilar to the early setup in a game, though this was no laughing matter. Outside of the glory or derision given to individuals in the pages of these historical records, we can’t forget that there was a very real and human cost in what was happening. Fighting meant death and destruction, and displaced people across the peninsula. We see them coming to the archipelago and being settled in various areas, but we also see people enslaved and offered as diplomatic gifts. These are people who were forced from their homes and their lives all because of aspirations of the powerful elites who directed soldiers to fight and die at their behest. We may not always see it, but as we listen to what was happening, let’s not forget the human toll around all of this.
Coming back off of his victory in late 553, Prince Yeochyang continued his offensive against the Silla, this time taking the fight to them, directly. They sent for the Wa troops that had been gathered in Tsukushi and Baekje sent a general with Mononobe no O to ask for even more. In early winter, they were ready to begin their assault. Baekje and Yamato troops assaulted Silla, but it wasn’t enough. This may account for a record in the Samguk Sagi which claims that Silla seized the northeastern border region of Baekje in that year, incorporating it into its own domain.
The records say Baekje sent 10,000 men in their fight to quote-unquote “assist” Nimna, but they needed more, and Baekje sent a request along with gifts to Yamato to presumably help offset the costs.
Yeochyang then headed back to the front with Silla and there he built a fortification at a place the records called Kutamura. King Seong, worried for his eldest son, decided to go to the front to see him there. The Samguk Sagi says that he assumed personal command of a force of about fifty thousand foot and mounted soldiers, and attacked the fortress of Mt. Kwanson along with “Karyang”, which some have identified as Kara troops, though it could be a reference to any number of troops from the areas in between Bakeje and Silla, I would think. The Silla military governor of the recently annexed Baekje territories came down to assist. During the combat, which seemed to be leaning in Baekje’s favor, a Silla leader named Todo made a sudden attack which ended up killing King Seong. This caused the army to break and the Silla troops pursued them. The records say they beheaded around 30,000 Baekje soldiers and four of the highest ranking nobles.
In the Nihon Shoki, they note this battle as well, though not quite in the same detail, simply stating that Silla brought all of their forces to bear on the king. They also mention that he was captured and beheaded, with Silla keeping his head, but eventually sending his bones back to be buried.
Prince Yeochyang, meanwhile, found himself surrounded, and according to the Nihon Shoki it was a man—or perhaps several men—from Tsukushi, aka Kyuushuu, who began to fire arrows so fast that they were able to open a hole in the opposing lines, allowing Yeochyang to escape. Here, instead of pursuing the fleeing troops, the Nihon Shoki claims they held off because of fear of Yamato, which sounds more like embellishment by the Chroniclers.
Following that defeat, Prince Yeochyang sent his younger brother, Prince Kye, to the Yamato court to inform them that their father had been killed and request more troops to avenge him. Soga no Iname, the Ohomi, consoled Prince Kye. He then hearkened back to the time of Wakatakeru no Ohokimi, aka Yuuryaku Tennou, and suggested that they should build a shrine to Ohonamuchi no Kami and worship him once more.
This last part probably seems a bit odd. As we’ll discuss later, Soga no Iname by this point had been selected to help experiment with Buddhism and Buddhist practices, but a lot of Yamato decisions still balanced elements of practical and strategic thinking with elements of kami worship. Without the kami on your side, there was very little that you could accomplish.
This also would seem to be further evidence of links between the kami worshipped in Japan and peninsular practices. Aston suggests there is a link here with the peninsular worship of Tankun, the legendary heavenly progenitor of Gojoseon. Ohonamuchi, as you may recall, had ties with Izumo, but worship of Ohonamuchi may have either come from or spread to the peninsula as well. The idea of a “Great Land Holder” seems to be a fairly nebulous and not particularly location-specific concept. Whether or not there is a link with Tankun is, perhaps though, a tenuous assumption to make.
It seems that there was some urging by Soga no Iname to join common worship to help bring about victory, though it is unclear if Prince Kye actually took him up on this suggestion. By this point, Baekje was fairly well immersed in Buddhism and the ruling elite were practicing Buddhists, though as we will talk about in later episodes, Buddhism doesn’t necessarily require that people abandon the worship of local gods, though there often is some amount of conflict between the two.
Later that year, back in Baekje, with the mourning ceremonies for the late King Seong concluded, Prince Yeochyang announced a desire to retire from the world and practice religion for the sake of his father. This practice of taking the robes of a monk and making merit for one’s father is not uncommon in some Buddhist traditions. Certainly in Japan it became the norm for sovereigns to retire and to take Buddhist vows, but that was typically after they had reigned for some period of time—and it was rarely a full withdrawal from the world. As it was, Yeochyang’s own court protested that while it might be the filial and Buddhist thing to do, he had to also think about the state of the nation as a whole. Instead, they suggested that he have 100 people quote unquote “enter religion”—which would seem to mean that they were forcibly tonsured—on his behalf, presumably to make merit for him and his father while he ran the country.
Both the Nihon Shoki and the Samguk Sagi have something of a pause here, at least for a few years. Baekje had received a pretty terrible defeat at the hands of Silla, and along with internal issues of getting everything back under control, it may have been a period of rebuilding. In Yamato, they note the arrival of several succeeding envoys from Silla who were basically given the cold shoulder. Silla seems to have then given up diplomatic relations for a while and worked, itself, to fortify its borders. The Chroniclers of course note that this was because they feared a Yamato invasion, and there may be something to that—not so much that they feared being overrun, but historically raids by Wa sailors against the Silla coast were not uncommon occurrences.
In 561 the Samguk Sagi once again notes Baekje dispatching troops to raid and plunder Silla’s territory. The Silla annals note this in 562, which may simply be the difference between when Baekje began to gather troops and when they actually attacked. Baekje lost 1,000 soldiers in that debacle.
That same year, the Samguk Sagi notes that Kara rebelled and that a Silla force was sent to put down the rebellion. In the Nihon Shoki, it is said that Nimna was destroyed by Silla this year, and a comment included in the Nihon Shoki states that this included Kara, Ara, Saiki, Tara, Cholma, Kocchi, Chatha, Sanpanha, Kwison, and Imnye—10 states, in total. Quoting the Tongkam, Aston says that the sources only mention Great Kara, or Daegaya.
Here, again, we see confusion in the sources, but it does seem that there was some rebellion, perhaps, in the area that Silla had conquered. According to the Nihon Shoki, Yamato sent troops to the front lines to help support Nimna against Silla, working with their ally, Baekje, who was just off their own defeat. To compound matters, an envoy from Yamato to Baekje ended up losing a letter as well as some of the bows and arrows he was transporting along the way, and these fell into the hands of Silla, which gave them crucial intelligence on what was being planned.
The Yamato generals for this endeavor were Ki no Womaro no Sukune and Kawabe no Omi no Nihe. Ki no Womaro appears to have had some early successes, and he encouraged the troops. Kawabe no Nihe, however, was inexperienced—apparently he was appointed because of his position in the court, rather than his military expertise.
During one of the encounters with the Silla troops, he had them pinned down, and they raised a white flag, a symbol—even back then—of a desire for a ceasefire to talk terms and possibly surrender. Nihe, however, was unaccustomed to warfare, and when he saw them wave the white flag he raised his own white flag in response, apparently thinking that it would stop the fighting. To the Silla troops, however, it looked like he was giving up as well, and so they lowered their flag and redoubled their efforts. Silla eventually routed the Yamato vanguard and many were injured. Some commanders even abandoned their troops, rushing back to the safety of their own fortifications.
Nihe survived, withdrawing to a nearby plain, but his troops’ confidence in him as a leader was shot, and they stopped listening to him. With little to no unit cohesion, they became easy prey for Silla forces, who rounded them all up, including the camp followers and Nihe’s own wife, who was there with him. Her name was Mumashi Hime, daughter of Sakamoto no Omi.
Here I’m going to take a pause on what happened next. Let’s just say that Nihe continued his less than heroic streak and that his wife paid the price. I’ll have more in the show notes at SengokuDaimyo.com/podcast, but we really don’t need to go into the gory details of it all here to get the bigger picture, as I really just want to set up what comes next.
You see, in contrast to Nihe’s behavior is the story of another man named Mitsugi no Kishi no Ikina. Ikina refused to submit to Silla. Threatening him with death the Silla commander made him remove his trousers. He then tried to force him to humiliate himself by pointing his posterior towards Yamato and crying out, and I quote: “Yamato Generals, Bite my A**!”. And yes, that is what the Chronicles say happened. Apparently that phrase is more universal than one might have suspected. Aston even makes the comment that there wasn’t really a good word for “Kiss” in Old Japanese and that “Bite” was probably the equivalent for the times. Either way, I think you get the meaning. Anyway, even threatened with death Ikina refused to submit, and instead he cried out “Let the King of Silla Bite my A**!”
Well things went downhill from there, and the Silla forces put him to death, along with his son, who had run out to comfort him. There is a song given for his wife, Ohobako, who had also been captured with him, which comes down to us as:
“Karakuni no / Kinoe ni tatashi / Ohobako wa / Hire Furasu miyu / Naniwa ni mukite”
“Standing on the walls of the country of Kara, Ohobako is seen to wave her scarf, turning towards Naniwa”
In the end, the sources agree that Silla was victorious. The rebellious regions submitted and Yamato troops withdrew.
There were no more major conflicts noted with Silla after that, at least not during Ame Kunioshi’s reign.
There is one more martial account, however, and it immediately follows on the footsteps of the disastrous raid of 562. Thousands of Yamato troops, working with help from Baekje and under the command of Ohotomo no Sadehiko, son of Ohotomo no Kanamura, attacked a city in Goguryeo territory where the King himself was staying. The king fled, and Sadehiko returned with numerous items of loot. These included a rich brocaded curtain that had been found in the king’s chambers, which was gifted to the sovereign. In addition, he gifted to Soga no Iname, the Oho-omi, and apparently the most powerful person at court at this point, two suits of armor, two swords mounted in gold, three copper bells with chasings, two flags of various colors, and a beautiful woman and her attendant, who had been captured and enslaved in the fighting. There was also an iron building—possibly like a shrine—that had been taken from a tower in the city and which was for a while kept in Chouanji temple, but by the time that the Chroniclers were recording the Nihon Shoki nobody was quite sure where that was or what had happened to it.
This seems odd to follow on to the disaster of the raid on Silla and the utter subjugation of the various states between Silla and Baekje, and it isn’t referenced in the Samguk Sagi at all. Then again, there is a general lack of any references at this point, so that may not mean as much as it seems. It could be that this was placed here just to provide some kind of victory in the face of such a crushing defeat by Silla. Then again, it is quite possible that Yamato and Baekje troops did use the opportunity to attack a Goguryeo that was still weakened and reeling from its losses to the Baekje Silla alliance years earlier.
Speaking of which, whatever alliance Baekje and Silla may have had, the annexation of all of the Kara states by Silla had put an end to it. Now Baekje and Silla shared a common border, with no buffer states between them. It was clear that Silla was now Baekje’s number one rival, as opposed to the weakened Goguryeo. From the beginning of Ame Kunioshi’s reign to now, whether or not Yamato had actually played a significant part in it, it was clear that the balance of power had shifted, and Silla was a rising threat.
Still, Yamato had big dreams—perhaps bigger than they could accomplish on their own. In 571, Ame Kunioshi passed away. As he lay dying, he urged his successor, Crown Prince Nunakura Futotamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou, to continue to fight to re-establish Nimna, which would become something of a causus belli through at least the reign of Toyomike Kashikiyahime, aka Suiko Tennou, with the last reference being made in the second year of Taika, or about 646, a good 75 years later. Notably, this deathbed request is the only real mention of Nimna in the Sendai Kuji Hongi, and some of have suggested that many of the more florid embellishments may have come from about the time of Kashikiyahime, to help justify her court’s own military campaigns.
Based purely on the conflict over Nimna and the other states collectively known as the Kara or Gaya Confederation, it would seem like this period was a huge loss for Yamato. And yet the close cooperation and dialogue with Baekje brought numerous gifts to the islands. This included further teachings from the continent that would help continue to shape the Yamato court with greater and more effective technologies that would strengthen the central government. And then there was the introduction of Buddhism, which also had come around this time, and which will be the subject of our next episode.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.

Below is the story of Kawabe no Nihe. I’ve attempted to “hide” the text as it contains discussions of sexual assault.

Realizing that he had his rival’s wife in custody, the Silla commander—likely either Isabu or his deputy, Sadaham, assuming this is the same event recorded in the Silla annals—asked Nihe what was more important to him, his own life or his wife. Nihe scoffed at this, asking why should he come to disaster just because of a woman. Mind you, it was his inexperience that had them all captured in the first place.
Given Nihe’s answer, the Silla commander took Nihe’s wife and publicly ravished her.
Following this, the commander let the self-serving Nihe go, and Nihe went and tried to speak with his wife. But really, what do you say to someone who was basically handed over and punished on your behalf. We aren’t told how it ended, but Nihe’s name doesn’t exactly come up again, and he clearly has been blamed for this entire episode and huge red flag warning of what not to do.

References

Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2011). The 'Koguryo annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Philippi, D. L. (1968). Kojiki. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. ISBN4-13-087004-1

Episode 39: Birth of the Three Kingdoms

April 16, 2021 Joshua Badgley

Royal tombs of the Silla Kings. While they also built mounds for their kings’ final resting places, there were many differences in construction between the ones here at on the archipelago, but both indicate their culture’s desire to memorialize eli… — Royal tombs of the Silla Kings. While they also built mounds for their kings’ final resting places, there were many differences in construction between the ones here at on the archipelago, but both indicate their culture’s desire to memorialize elite personages, even in death.

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This episode, as Okinaga Tarashi Hime is preparing her troops to cross the straits and seek out the land of “gold and silver” that the kami have promised her, we’ll take a moment to look at the peninsula and just what has been going on over there in the late 3rd to early 4th centuries, because this is when we see the peninsula enter into the Three Kingdoms period, with the countries of Baekje and Silla rising to meet the elder state of Goguryeo and becoming kingdoms in their own right.

Before we get too much into that, let me address a few things.

First, I don’t speak Korean, and so my apologies up front if I butcher any of these names. I’ll do the best I can. Also, on the spelling: There are various ways of turning Hangul, the Korean writing system, into Latin characters. So sometimes you’ll see Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla, and sometimes you’ll see Koguryo, Paekche, and Silla. For the most part I’ll be using the Revised Romanization (Gug-eoui Romaja Pyogibeop) as opposed to the McCune-Reischauer system, but since I’m not always familiar with things, forgive me if I slip up from time to time.

A general idea of the locations of the Samhan, or Three Han, of the Korean Peninsula. Map by Idh0854, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

So where are all these places we are talking about? Well, let’s first look at the location of the Samhan, or Three Han. By the way, it can get very confusing because generally I use “Han” in the meaning of the ethnic Han people in the area that is, today, modern China, including the various empires that were inspired by them (though those empires were not always properly “Han” in that context). (漢 / 汉) However “Han” is also the reading of the character that the old chronicles, like the Wei Chronicles, used to discuss three of the groups on the Kroean peninsula, and it also happens to be the term used in Korean for Korea itself (韓). For the most part, if I’m talking about the “Han” I’ll be referring to those people who came over from the areas of modern China, and not the early inhabitants of the peninsula.

Now exactly where these groups were is vague. It isn’t like anyone laid out a geographic map with borders. And there were other groups as well on the peninsula, even though we mostly concern ourselves with these three. So the map here gives a rough approximation of their location. The Commanderies would have been above them, to the north, and then the states of Okjeo, Goguryeo, and Buyeo beyond that.

Map of the Korean Peninsula showing the Three Kingdoms and Gaya. This is roughly showing the extent of the kingdoms in about 476. Used under CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

After Goguryeo defeats the commanderies, and pushes them off of the peninsula, then the three kingdoms are able to take over most of the peninsula. The map here is actually of the borders in about 476—so about a hundred years after the time we are discussing—but it gives a general idea of where we are talking about. Of all of these, I’d say that Goguryeo probably has the most dramatic shift in borders. Then again, being at the northern end of the peninsula with access to the Manchurian massif and the Eurasian steppes, they have the greatest ability to expand, but also face the most threats in the form of other actors encroaching on their borders, while in the rest of the peninsular kingdoms they have at least one back to the ocean.

And, remember, other than Goguryeo, the Kingdoms generally weren’t being written about until after the fall of the Commanderies, and so we don’t exactly have great records for their full extent until much later.

Inscribed bricks (Goguryeo)

Bricks inscribed with writing from the 3rd century in Goguryeo, indicating the presence of some kind of written culture. From the Seoul National Museum.

Oracle bones

Oracle bones from SW Korean peninsula, near modern Haenam. Oracle bones in Shang times or earlier may have actually been the earliest use of Sinitic writing, but it didn’t necessarily require a written culture to “read” the cracks, as it were. Still, it shows some similarities with the scapulamancy practiced in the archipelago. From the Seoul National Museum.

Shield Decorations (Gaya)

4th C bronze decorations found in Gaya and also in Japan from very early centuries. It is thought that they were probably used on wooden shields, but the exact nature of their usage is unknown. From the Seoul National Museum.

Iron armor (Silla)

3rd-4th C iron cuirass. From the Seoul National Museum.

Iron cuirass (Silla)

Iron cuirass from a 4th C Silla tomb. Gyeongju National Museum.

Iron neck armor (Silla)

Rear view of a 4th C piece of neck armor—part of a larger suit. From the Gyeongju National Museum.

Iron cuirass (Silla)

Iron cuirass from a 4th C Silla tomb. Gyeongju National Museum.

Iron helmet (Silla)

Iron helmet found in a 4th C Silla tomb. From Gyeongju National Museum.

Iron helmet (Silla)

Rear view of an iron helmet from a 4th C Silla tomb. Gyeongju National Museum.

Iron socketed spearheads (Silla)

3rd-4th C iron, socketed spearheads. From the Seoul National Museum.

Iron socketed spearhead (Silla)

4th C iron socketed spearheads. Gyeongju National Musem.

Iron horse bit

4th C horse bit, indicating presence of horses on the peninsula. The archipelago seems to have still been working without horses, for the most part. From the Gyeongju National Museum.

Iron horse bit (Silla)

Iron horse bit from a 4th C Silla Tomb. Gyeongju National Museum.

Crystal and Jade Necklace (Silla)

Necklace from the 3rd Century. From the Gyeongju National Museum.

Glass and Jade Neckalce (Silla)

3rd C necklace. Before gold and silver there were other materials used in Silla—and jade and glass would continue to be appreciated into later centuries. From the Gyeongju National Museum.

Gold earrings (Silla)

Gold earrings found in a 4th C Silla tomb.

Bird-shaped ewers

Bird shaped funerary pottery seems prevalent in the southern Korean peninsula. Could this be connected with the sotdae (birds on poles) and the story of the Silla founder being born from an egg? From the Seoul National Museum.

Halfmoon Fortress (Gyeongju)

Overgrown earthworks of the Halfmoon Fortress in Gyeongju.

Halfmoon Fortress, Gyeongju

Broken pieces of rock at the top of the tree-covered earthworks of Halfmoon Fortress in Gyeongju.

Halfmoon Fortress, Gyeongju

Modern approach to the tree-covered earthworks of the ancient Halfmoon Fortress in Gyeongju.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 39: The Birth of the Three Kingdoms.
Alright, so we’ve been dealing with the Chronicles up through the fourteenth sovereign, Tarashi Naka tsu Hiko, more popularly known as Chuuai Tennou. By my calculations, we are somewhere in the mid to latter 4th century, even if the Nihon Shoki claims we are just at the end of the 2nd century. This was a momentous time on the peninsula, seeing the rise of native rule after the fall of the Han Commanderies, and the events there were having rippling effects throughout both the peninsula and the islands. You know, it is so easy for us to assume that because Japan is an island nation that it was somehow disconnected from the events on the mainland, like the straits and seas were a moat that kept everyone out. And yet, while they certainly did allow Japan to maintain some distance, they were hardly an iron wall, and Japan was often impacted by what happened with her neighbors, especially as time went on and things were becoming more and more connected. In a way, you could see this as the natural extension of the connections that we are seeing mentioned in the Chronicles, with Yamato dominion having been extended from Tohoku in the northeast all the way to Kyushu.
In the 4th century, the archipelago seems to have had at least good trade relations with the Gaya kingdoms, as we’ve mentioned before. To recap, Gaya was a confederation of small states that may have even become a kingdom, based in the old Pyonhan area, one of the three groups of city-states, this one around Gimhae and the Nakdong River region. While not confirmed, I highly suspect that the Pyonhan were—or at least included—a peninsular Wa people, possibly speaking their own form of peninsular-Japonic. If that is the case, then the states of the Gaya confederacy might be seen as simply an extension of the culture that had spread with the Yayoi into the Japanese archipelago, though no doubt, over time, those on the peninsula would have had more blending and interaction with the other people there.
From what it looks like, the Korean peninsula at this time was a diverse region. You likely had Han Chinese, Japonic-speaking Wa people, as well as others, such as the Buyeo people in Goguryeo and Baekje. There were many other groups mentioned in the Annals and Histories, such as the Ye, the Maek, the Malgal, and others, though whether they had distinct linguistic traditions or were simply different political groups, it is hard to say. Since we don’t have any indigenous chronicles for them we are largely left to conjecture based on what others have written about them. But regardless of the cultural and linguistic diversity, in broad strokes we can talk about the formation of three main powers. I will emphasize that these strokes are necessarily broad—I think it would be awesome to do an in depth discussion of Korean history, but that just isn’t our main focus. So please don’t yell at me for skipping over your favorite story from this period—we have a lot to cover.
So the Three Kingdoms that we are focused on here are Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla. We’ve talked about the Gaya confederation some in the past, and we may touch on them, but really I want to talk about the reason why the 4th century is considered the start of the “Three Kingdoms” period on the peninsula. And no, these are not the same as the Three Kingdoms, or San-guo, of China. No Cao Cao with a duck on his head. Sorry. Though some of the peninsular aristocracy did have some totally bitchin’ headgear. I’m just saying.
I want to try to talk about these as best we can, and to do that we’ll be looking at some other sources, including the Korean chronicles of the Samguk Sagi and the Samguk Yusa, which tell the tales of the “Three Kingdoms” of Baekje, Goguryeo, and Silla. However, as sources go, we need to be aware that these are even further than the source material than the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki, having been written centuries later. The Samguk Sagi, or “history of the three kingdoms”, was commissioned by the Korean Goryeo dynasty, and compiled by Kim Busik in 1145. It seems that this largely drew on various extant chronicles that we no longer have and compiled them into a single work. In fact, the Nihon Shoki mentions various Korean annals that were referenced in its own compilation. One interesting note, though, it seems that Kim Busik didn’t try to integrate all of these into a single narrative. Rather, the annals of each kingdom are told largely separately, meaning it reads something like Kurosawa’s “Rashomon”—or even the original “In a Grove”—with several different perspectives on the same event.
The Samguk Yusa, or “Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms”, focuses more on the stories and less on the chronicled history. It was probably put together by a monk by the name of Iryeon in the 13th century, but that is a lot less clear.
Like the Japanese Chronicles, both of these were written entirely in a Korean form of Chinese, using Chinese characters for both meaning and pronunciation. On the other hand, they likely had reliable textual references dating back much earlier than the archipelago, given their proximity to the various continental empires. That means that the peninsula likely had a more robust literary culture than the islands seem to have had. After all, the peninsular kingdoms had been right on the border of Wei and Jin empires, and both they and the ethnic Han commanderies utilized writing for all sorts of purposes, including the administration of the state. Bordering states would have likely been expected to pay tribute or otherwise appease the commanderies and the court at Louyang of which they were an extension. As such, one can only assume that they ended up adopting and adapting the tools of statecraft that they knew, which would have included reading and writing.
In the archipelago, on the other hand, there is no indication of this same kind of literary tradition—definitely not to the same extent. It certainly may be the case that there were those who could read and write, at least enough to send correspondence to the Wei court, back in the time of Himiko, but it is unclear if that was actually the Wa themselves, or perhaps Han immigrants in their midst. There may have even been decorative or performative writing—that is, writing that was done more as a performance or decoration than for any actual communication. This may be what we are seeing when we catch glimpses of what could be Sinitic characters on clay pots and similar media early on. But there is no indication of widespread use nor of an understanding of writing as a means of supporting the government.
I mean, think about it for a moment. When you consider a government, what do you have? Sure, at the top you have the leaders and people making decisions, whether a king, a president, a prime minister, and various legislative and judicial bodies. But other than arguing, what do the majority of people in a government do? A lot of them are either collecting data on the state of the country and sending that to someone, or they are implementing the policies being directed down from the top. That is something that is possible to some extent without writing, but it quickly gets to be unwieldy. Sure, you can rely on a network of individuals, but how reliable are they?
So writing may not be absolutely essential for the formation of a state—look at the incredible Incan empire in the Americas—but it is certainly extremely helpful, especially when you are trying to govern large regions of territory. And some of the earliest writing is really about keeping track of stuff—inventory, taxes, etc.
So it is quite likely that the peninsular kingdoms had some form of literary traditions, no doubt based on what they had learned from their Han neighbors, though these weren’t always long traditions, and weren’t necessarily being used to document historical fact. After all, as just about anyone in IT can tell you, most people don’t exactly focus on documentation first and foremost. Baekje, for instance, was possibly just starting to really keep court records around the mid-4th century—which could also be because, despite the claims made about the state’s history, it was actually relatively new to the scene at that point, which we’ll talk about.
Now, just because they wrote things down doesn’t mean that their sources are any more or less infallible. Indeed, there is some consideration that the historiographical methods of the Japanese court, designed to promote the story of the royal family, was something that they came by honestly from their peninsular teachers. So we can’t exactly treat the Samguk Yusa nor the Samguk Sagi as accurate in all things. In fact, it is very clear that they seem to have postulated much earlier dates for some events than seems at all possible, and, like with the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, as the centuries progress they get more and more reliable.
But let’s actually get into the history of the Three Kingdoms, themselves.
We should probably start in the north, because while the rest of the peninsula was still divided up into the Samhan, or three Han, each of which was made up of multiple independent polities, up in the north you already had one of your first of these three Korean states. This was Goguryeo, or sometimes even just “Goryeo”, which is actually where the English name, “Korea” is derived. Goguryeo was largely at the head of the peninsula and expanded into the continent. While the territory governed by the state would vary, at its height it ranged from the area of Harbin, in modern China, and, at its height, south into the northern parts of modern-day South Korea, encompassing all of modern North Korea.
Now you may recall that we discussed Goguryeo previously, and their on-again, off-again relation with the Han Commanderies. Sure, the Wei loved Goguryeo when they were helping them to take down their rivals on the Liaodong peninsula, just to the West, but it didn’t take much for that alliance to break apart, especially once the other threats had been eliminated. When Goguryeo attempted to expand southward, hoping to get access to much needed farmland, the Wei saw that as a provocation dealt a considerable blow to Goguryeo, driving them from their capital city in 244.
Goguryeo was down, but not entirely out. A second Wei invasion in 259 seems to have turned out not quite so well for the Wei, and they were defeated at Yangmaenggok. Nonetheless, the damage to Goguryeo was significant, and it would be years before they were again a major threat to the Commanderies or anyone else on the peninsula.
In fact, during the 2nd half of the 3rd century, much of Goguryeo’s bloodshed was internal, within the royal court. This seems to have culminated in the last decade of that century in the rise to power of one of Goguryeo’s most ruthless kings, King Bongsang.
According to the stories we have, Bongsang was quite the disagreeable figure. Arrogant and downright paranoid. Of course, he may have had a reason to be worried, but largely those seem to be reasons of his own making. As soon as he rose to power in 292, he had his own uncle, Prince Anguk, executed. Now Prince Anguk wasn’t just some dandy with royal blood, but back during the previous reign, that of Bongsang’s father, he had been helping his brother, the king, defend Goguryeo. The man was a frickin’ war hero, and quite popular with the people. King Bongsang didn’t care, and being the paranoid and insecure man that he was, only saw this as a threat to his own power, so he had him labeled as a traitor and killed.
And of course that totally blew up in his face. Killing the beloved war hero--I mean, really, when has that really worked? Bongsang’s plan seems to have been that if he labelled him as disloyal then it would kill any support the people had for him, but instead Prince Anguk’s death seems to have only riled up the populace against the King. He turned him into a martyr.
As if that wasn’t enough, he would try again, only a year later. This time he accused his own younger brother of plotting against him, and he made him commit suicide.
Now his brother’s son—that is Bongsang’s nephew—clearly saw the writing on the wall and decided to get out of Dodge. Known as Prince Eulbul, he apparently took on the life of a servant to hide as a commoner, taking on various menial tasks and doing his best not to catch his uncle’s eye. And when I say menial, I mean it. At one point he was in a job where he was throwing rocks into a pond at night so that the frogs wouldn’t wake up his master. How’s that for a night shift? He actually ran away from that job to find one where he had to do more physical labor, but at least he wasn’t up all night on frog duty.
And while Prince Eulbul was trying to figure out what options were open to him now that “Prince” was apparently out of the question, things weren’t getting any better at the court, and eventually, the court itself had enough. Bongsang’s own prime minister, a man by the name of Chang Jori, resigned his position and, along with other disaffected ministers, he planned and executed a successful coup, overthrowing King Bongsang in 300 CE. King Bongsang and his two sons were both exiled, but they all committed suicide rather than go on frog duty, themselves.
With the throne empty, Chang Jori and the other ministers decided that they needed to find a new monarch, and so they instituted a search throughout the land, eventually tracking down Prince Eulbul. Of course, the Prince thought this might be a trick—he hadn’t exactly been plugged into court politics for the past eight years, and he tried to deny who he was, but eventually they explained to him the situation and he was reinstated and then enthroned as King. Posthumously known as King Micheon, he grew the Goguryeo military, and had an extremely successful career, being known as one of Goguryeo’s better rulers. He expanded back into the Liaodong peninsula, and turned his attention to the old Han Commanderies.
Now the Wei had long since fallen and given way to the Jin dynasty, but the Jin itself was in trouble and unable to provide the support to its outposts as it once did. Still, at the beginning of the 4th century, the peninsula was not exactly forgotten. In fact, political rivals were often sent to the commanderies as a form of exile, sending them to the very edges of the empire.
Nonetheless, the commanderies were not what they once were, and Goguryeo forces began to attack the representatives of Jin power on the peninsula. First they attacked and destroyed the Xuantu Commandery in 302, which was the northernmost of the three commanderies still on the peninsula. Later they annexed the Lelang and Daifang commanderies in 313 and 314, effectively ending any official Jin presence on the peninsula, though there remained some ethnic Han citizens who stayed and seemed to have thrived, at least through the middle of the 4th century. Han tombs and their contents tell us that even if the Commanderies were no longer present, it doesn’t mean that all of the Han were wiped out, and in fact some seem to have done quite well for themselves.
After the defeat of the Commanderies, Eulbul turned his attention largely to the west, where he spent much of his time embroiled in conflicts with the Xianbei in the area of the Liaodong Peninsula. This continued throughout Eulbul’s reign, right up until the king’s death in about 331 CE, and likely kept Goguryeo’s attention focused largely on their western neighbors, rather than on the peninsula itself.
Following Eulbul’s death his son, Sayu, came to the throne. He would posthumously be known as King Gogugwon. One of the first things he did was apparently expand the fortress at Pyongyang—and yes, that is the same Pyongyang as the modern capital of North Korea. Later, he would repair the old fortress of Hwando and build the city of Gungnae-song in its shadow. This was actually a common plan for Goguryeo cities at this time: a fortress would be built incorporating the natural rise of the mountains, and this would be a stronghold for the people to take cover in during times of war and strife. Outside would be built a walled city on a geometric plan—in this case a square-walled site near modern Ji’an, on the Chinese side of the Yalu River border with North Korea. This square-shaped walled city would be the site of daily activities in a time of peace.
Not that peace was in the cards for Sayu and Goguryeo. They continued to suffer attacks from Xianbei Murong and other steppe groups, until they were ultimately defeated and humiliated by the Xianbei Yan Kingdom around 342. The Xianbei dug up the body of Sayu’s father, the previous sovereign, King Micheon, and also captured Queen Ju, Sayu’s mother, and various concubines. Holding all of them, both the living and the dead, as hostages, they demanded Goguryeo’s surrender. Eventually, Sayu submitted to Yan as a vassal state, for which he received back his father’s body, but his mother was still held hostage for some time. Sayu moved the capital back down south to Pyongyang, and seems to have focused their attention back on their southern neighbors. In 369, some 27 years after their defeat by the Xianbei, Sayu led an army against the people to their south, perhaps in an attempt to reinvigorate Goguryeo. This would not exactly go as planned, and we’ll touch on that, later.
That said, the fall of the commanderies at the beginning of the 4th century had ripple effects throughout the peninsula. Up to that point, they had represented the major power on the peninsula, whether it was the Han, the Wei, or the Jin. There is plenty of evidence to suggest that they continually played the various polities of the three Samhan off of one another and kept them largely destabilized and, in a way, subservient to the Commanderies themselves. Without the commanderies, there would have been a power vacuum created—and this may be one of the factors leading to the rise of the other kingdoms on the peninsula.
The first of these that I want to touch on is the Kingdom of Baekje. Now according to the Baekje Annals in the Samguk Sagi, the Kingdom of Baekje was actually founded in about 18 BCE, but that date seems impossibly early based on what else we know. For instance, we know that in 290 there was an embassy to the Jin court sent by representatives of the various Mahan states. At that time there was one state known as Bochi, or Pai-chi, which may be an early name for Baekje, but it wasn’t even the most prominent of the states in Mahan. That honor seems to have gone to a state known as Wolchi-guk, or possibly Mokchi-guk, about which we have very little information.
Now according to most sources, the founding of Baekje was closely tied to the state of Goguryeo, and through them to the ancient state of Buyeo. Buyeo seems to have been a predecessor to the state of Goguryeo, founded around the 2nd century BCE and lasting until the late 5th century. Much of its territory seems to be in the middle of Manchuria, in modern Northeast China. The legendary founder of Goguryeo, King Jumong, is said to have been a descendant of the King of Buyeo, founding Goguryeo around 37 BCE. According to Baekje tradition, King Jumong had three sons: Yuri, Biryu, and Onjo. Yuri was born to a previous wife, and when King Jumong died Yuri suddenly showed up in Goguryeo to take the throne. Accordingly his half-brothers, Biryu and Onjo, decided that they wouldn’t wait around—and seeing how bloody things got in later family disputes in Goguryeo, I can’t exactly fault them for deciding to get out of Dodge altogether. They made their way south, to the 54 states of the Mahan. There they were accepted and set up two new kingdoms. Biryu set up the kingdom of Michuhol, while Onjo set up the kingdom of Sipje. When Biryu died, the people of his kingdom joined with the other Goguryeo refugees in Sipje, and the kingdom was renamed to Baekje. “Sipje” basically meant “10 subjects”, indicating the 10 allies who had come with Onjo to first found his new state, and “Baekje” replaces “10” with “100” indicating the new subjects that had arrived from his late brother’s kingdom.
Some time after this consolidation, Onjo and his descendants began to consolidate power, eventually subjugating or absorbing all of the states of Mahan.
Of course, as I mentioned earlier, the Annals claim this was sometime around 18 BCE, but that date seems extremely unlikely. I mean, granted, it isn’t some 8 centuries too early, like we find in the Japanese Chronicles, but it still doesn’t line up with what we actually know about the peninsula.
There is no evidence that there was any kind of major peninsular state south of the commanderies that early on. In fact, as we’ve mentioned, the Commanderies themselves would likely have done their best to stop any major states from forming. But besides that, if one did form, we would likely hear about it in the record.
Johnathan Best, who translated the Baekje Annals from the Samguk Sagi into English, has made an attempt to try to uncover just when the state of Baekje was likely founded—or at least when its Buyeo-descended royalty may have arrived. After all, there does seem to be a consistent theme that the Baekje royal family was connected to Buyeo, usually mediated through the state of Goguryeo, and there are various cultural artifacts that would seem to confirm a connection, at least between Goguryeo and Baekje.
So it seems that there may, indeed, be a connection to the Goguryeo royal lineage—and thus all the way back to the ancient state of Buyeo—but if so, it must have been much more recent than 18 BCE. What we know for certain is that Baekje was definitely a fully fledged nation by 372, when King Geungchogo sent his own embassy to Jin Court. This King, King Geungchogo, was also the first king of Baekje to have had official written records kept, so he is largely considered historical whereas the previous 12 or so kings back to Onjo are questionable.
Now if the royal line of Baekje did come from Buyeo stock, by way of Goguryeo, when could that have occurred? Well, Best suggests that it may have been around the turn of the 4th century, probably around the time of the cruel and capricious King Bongsang of Goguryeo, whom we talked about earlier in this episode. It is possible that in his cruelty, he drove out more than just Prince Eulbul. On the other hand, it could also have been that when Changjori and other ministers enacted their coup and placed Eulbul on the throne, well, there may have been continued supporters of Bongsang, or even rival princes, who decided that it was in their best interest to not hang around any more. After all, they had just been through a decade of bloody palace intrigue and there was no reason to think that the newly risen faction in court wouldn’t take their opportunity to enact vengeance upon their rivals.
Furthermore, it is not too improbable that these disaffected nobles and Goguryeo refugees may have found safe haven in the young states of Mahan—possibly even in an existing state known as Baekje-guk. Even though they may have been on the outs with their home kingdom, they were still nobles and they would have been experienced in the latest tools of statecraft on the peninsula. This is something we don’t often think about but understanding how to run a government is a skill in and of itself, and the art of government evolves and changes. Over time the tools and techniques developed in one country can be spread and adopted in others. This may have made these foreigners quite popular with the elite.
In addition, they seem to have been given leave to set up in the northern part of the Mahan territories, around the Han river system, near modern Seoul, creating a buffer, of sorts, between the Mahan and the commanderies.
And here we see several similarities in the archaeological record between Baekje and Goguryeo. For one thing, Baekje’s capital city was similar to that of the Goguryeo site of Hwando and Kungnaesong, in that it was a geometric walled city paired with a Goguryeo-style mountain fortress. We also see similarities in the tombs, which are built up like short, flat-topped pyramids. These would seem to suggest that there was, indeed, some connection between these two states, though there was also a certain enmity between them.
Now, although the dates found in the Baekje Annals are questionable, the overarching story of the early kings of Baekje is, itself, rather intriguing, and not entirely unbelievable. Early on in the Baekje Annals, the rulers of the young state take a subservient position amongst the other Mahan, with one individual seemingly at the head of the various Mahan states. Though far from holding direct rule over all the myriad countries, this individual did seem to hold the power to intervene in disputes and even shame the kings of Baekje, at least early on, into compliance. This may not be too dissimilar from the kind of coercive influence that early Yamato may have held in the archipelago.
Of course, as the state of Baekje grew, it soon turned the tables on its neighbors, absorbing the other states of the Mahan, and entering into constant struggles with its neighbors. To the north, the commanderies were pressing on the young state, and rallying up local groups, referred to in the Annals as the Malgal, to raid and harass Baekje.
Despite all of the attacks and apparent warfare, Baekje seems to have thrived, holding its own against the Commanderies until they fell to the Goguryeo King Micheon—the former Prince Eulbeul—in 313 and 314. With the commanderies gone, Baekje would have been free to continue its expansion across parts of the peninsula. It also may have freed up the talent of the ethnic Han bureaucrats and merchants, if the young peninsular states could attract them to their courts.
And here I want to pause for a moment. We talked about the make up of the Baekje royal family as one of Buyeo descent, as was Goguryeo, and many of the high-ranking court nobles seem to have made similar claims, but this was only the upper echelon of society. It is actually quite probable that the people that they ruled over were ethnically distinct, which would make sense if this was Goguryeo nobility ruling over a common Mahan people.
The fact is, we don’t really know all that much about the people of Mahan. Were they a single ethnicity or were they several different groups? Did they all speak a common language, even? What was it that caused the Han, Wei, and Jin chroniclers to differentiate between the three groups of Mahan, Byonhan, and Jinhan in the first place? Was it just for geographic simplicity, or was it something else?
I suspect that the Baekje rulers and their people likely spoke a different language, at least at first. Think of the Normans in England, though I don’t know if the relationship was so cut and dried as “rulers” and “subjects”. The main thing to note is that the peninsula was, from an early point, a very diverse and heterogenous place, with many different groups, including, we believe, people speaking some form of proto or peninsular Japonic, as well as Chinese and an early form of Korean—and probably more as well. It is quite possible that people were regularly bilingual and dealing in multiple languages, or possibly through some regional lingua franca. Whatever the reality, it is hard to uncover exactly. Over time, many of the place names on the peninsula—the very locations that would most likely have held onto traces of the original languages of the region—were deliberately changed and replaced. Today we tend to treat all of these names and locations as if they were spoken with a modern Korean pronunciation, just as we tend to do with Japanese names on the archipelago, but we should remember that the truth is likely to be much more complex.
Unfortunately, there isn’t much more that we really get on the common people in Baekje at this time. We have only scant glimpses at their religious and personal lives, with much of the action focused on things like meteorological events and the political and military accomplishments.
Speaking of which: as Baekje subjugated much of the Mahan, they also eyed the land of Jinhan, to the east, on the other side of the Peninsula, where another fledgling state was asserting its own dominance; Silla. This was one of the other states that would rise and become a significant power on the peninsula. At the same time, Baekje was also taking the fight to the north, and without those pesky Commanderies in the way, they came into conflict with Goguryeo. When King Sayu of Goguryeo marched south with his men, Baekje, under the rule of King Geunchogo, repulsed the invaders and counterattacked, eventually culminating in an assault on the fortress of Pyongyang in 371 CE. During the assault, a Baekje arrow found its mark, striking and killing the Goguryeo king, Sayu. Baekje seems to have been unable or unwilling to press the advantage, though, but they do seem to have moved their own capital northward, perhaps to better administer the territories of southern Pyongyang.
So that gives us a general idea of Baekje, but let’s take a look at the third kingdom that we see rising up at this time: Silla.
Much like Baekje, Silla makes no real appearance in other records before the 4th century. The Samguk Sagi suggests that it was formed before either Baekje or Goguryeo, with a claimed founding in 57 BCE. Once again, we have to wonder about such a date. More likely, an early state, by the name of Saro, likely arose in the midst of the other countries of Jinhan, and really started to grow into a regional power sometime in the late 3rd century.
Ignoring the dates, if we look at the Silla Annals in the Samguk Sagi we see evidence of its growth. Of all of the locations, it seems to have been one of the most cosmopolitan. Some of the people of Jinhan apparently claimed descent from the ethnic Han populations, claiming status as ancient refugees of the Qin, though this seems questionable at best. There were also members of the court who laid claim to Wa ancestry—and indeed the areas of Jinhan and Pyonhan—the area of the Kara confederacy, and likely home to a fair number of peninsular Wa people—both seemed to have shared a fair amount of material culture up until the late 3rd century, when we see them start to drift apart.
Silla’s legendary founder is known as Bak Hyeokgeose, and the stories say that he was born from a large egg. From there, the early history of Silla talks of dealing with the leader of the Mahan states as well as Wa pirate raiders along the coast. Soon, they are in conflict with Baekje, while also dealing with the other tribes and ethnic groups on the peninsula, such as the Ye and the Maek.
Silla built its capital in the plains of Gyeongju, where there certainly is a long history of occupation, at least according to the archaeological record. Silla’s own stories say that six villages came together to build the city of Gyeongju, and that may give an indiation of how this early state was born.
The capital of Silla, known from early times as “Seorabeol”, which may have just meant “capital”, was centered on the Gyeongju plain. At a bend in the river, a fortress was built on a half-moon shaped hill, known as half-moon fortress, and then four other fortresses guarded the city from atop nearby hillsides. This was quite different from the Goguryeo-style paired sites of a mountain fortress and a geometrically planned walled city.
Their burial practices were also different. They built wooden chambers, covered in dirt, much as the ethnic Han would do, but then they employed a trick learned from the Goguryeo, adding a layer of cobblestones before covering it all over again. Those cobblestones, and the lack of a corridor, were a type of anti-theft measure. Imagine digging into the side of a mound, and at first it is easy going—you have some grass, probably, but soon you are just pulling out dirt. You know that there is something in there, so you keep digging, and eventually you hit the cobblestones. At first this doesn’t seem so bad—you just grab the cobblestones and pull them out of there. Except, you are probably working from the bottom, and it is like you just pulled the fruit out from the bottom of the display. As soon as you do that, all the other cobblestones fall after it, filling in the hole you just made. Like Sisyphus, every inch you gain is taken away from you, and instead of digging a small hole to your target you end up digging away half the mountainside. It is really a rather simple and ingenious way to protect your dead kings and their stuff, and it worked remarkably well—we have a treasure-trove of items from ancient Silla, and a lot of it does seem to involve gold and silver, much as we heard in the Nihon Shoki, though when Silla really became known for their golden crowns and manufacturing techniques I couldn’t exactly say.
It’s possible that this came with the fall of the Commanderies and the movement of some of the ethnic Han into Silla. It may also be notable that the surname of the later Silla kings, “Kim”, is a reference to “Gold”.
Speaking of which, it is somewhat notable that the first twelve rulers of Silla were actually from one of two intertwined families, either the Bak or the Seok. The thirteenth sovereign was actually the first ruler from the Kim clan, which would eventually come to dominate the throne. The Kim clan’s status seems to have been solidified by the time of the kingdom’s 17th sovereign, Kim Naemul, who was also the first sovereign that could be corroborated in other historical sources, such as those of the Jin court, and even mentioned in the Japanese Chronicles. Naemul came to power around 356 and ruled through 402—basically the entirety of the latter 4th century.
Now, of all the annals in the Samguk Sagi, the Silla Annals are the most detailed. Even for these times that we believe are anachronistic, they have a lot of detail of the dealings of Silla with its neighbors. It seems that Silla grew, and just as Baekje absorbed the Mahan, Silla absorbed the Jinhan. Whereas Baekje was focused on the Mahan and the Commanderies, however, Silla seemed concerned with the Wa and with Gaya, to the south. It is unclear if the Wa mentioned in the Silla accounts are all from the archipelago or if some of them may have come from the peninsula. Over time there is definitely a distinction between the Wa and Gaya, however, indicating a clear distinction between them.
There are also numerous conflicts with Baekje. Baekje seems to be shown as an aggressor against Silla, while Silla is actively attempting to subjugate the areas of Gaya and Wa. Of course, if they are fighting with Baekje, and Baekje wasn’t really a power until the late 3rd or early 4th centuries, then we have some idea, possibly, of when many of these stories are actually taking place.
That said, none of this is constant warfare, but instead there are periods of fighting followed by a truce, and then eventually, more fighting. The root cause of many of the conflicts aren’t directly discussed—and it may simply have been enough that they were different states vying for supremacy. There were even other groups and people, but other than Gaya we don’t hear nearly as much from them, other than the occasional raiding party or alliance. Even Gaya seems to be an “outside” party on the peninsula. It is into this mix that the Wa would find themselves, and Yamato would enter the complex world of peninsular politics.
And I think that’s about where we will leave it. By the latter half of the 4th century, around the time that Okinaga Tarashi Hime is gearing up to head off from Kyushu, there were three major states on the peninsula, and then myriad other, smaller groups. Goguryeo in the north had destroyed the ethnic Han commanderies, but was still nursing its own wounds inflicted by the Murong Xianbei and Baekje. Baekje itself was just reaching the height of their power, and were even starting to encroach on the weakened Goguryeo as well as their Silla neighbors. Silla had established itself on the central eastern coastline, and was fending off attacks from, and attempting to subjugate, the loosely confederated states of Gaya to their south. Meanwhile there are attacks by the Wa, the Malgal, and the Ye and Maek. Up in the north, the ancient Okjo and Buyeo, whom we’ve really only barely mentioned, seem to be waning.
This is the early part of Three Kingdoms era on the Korean peninsula. These three states will vie with each other for the next several centuries. At the same time they are still developing their own policies and statecraft, borrowing from their Han neighbors, but also innovating their own ways of doing things. Over time, they would consolidate into a single state, but for now they were still fighting with one another.
Next episode, will get back to Okinaga Tarashi Hime and we’ll see how she fares as she jumps into the fray on the Korean Peninsula.
So, until next time, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Questions or comments? Feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.
That’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Kim, P., & Shultz, E. J. (2013). The 'Silla annals' of the 'Samguk Sagi'. Gyeonggi-do: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Kim, P., Shultz, E. J., Kang, H. H. W., & Han'guk Chŏngsin Munhwa Yŏn'guwŏn. (2012). The Koguryo annals of the Samguk sagi. Seongnam-si, Korea: Academy of Korean Studies Press.
Jeon, H.-T. (2008). Goguryeo: In search of its culture and history. Seoul: Hollym.
Best, J. (2006). A History of the Early Korean Kingdom of Paekche, together with an annotated translation of The Paekche Annals of the Samguk sagi. Cambridge (Massachusetts); London: Harvard University Asia Center. doi:10.2307/j.ctt1tg5q8p
Shultz, E. (2004). An Introduction to the "Samguk Sagi". Korean Studies, 28, 1-13. Retrieved April 11, 2021, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/23720180
Iryŏn, ., Ha, T. H., & Mintz, G. K. (2004). Samguk yusa: Legends and history of the three kingdoms of ancient Korea. Seoul: Yonsei University Press.

Episode 30: Yamato and the Continent

December 1, 2020 Joshua Badgley

These bronze spirals, which in this case come from Gimhae—what was once part of Gaya—in the 4th C, have been suggested as shield ornaments, though in truth nobody is quite sure what they were used for. They are representative, though, of the shared… — These bronze spirals, which in this case come from Gimhae—what was once part of Gaya—in the 4th C, have been suggested as shield ornaments, though in truth nobody is quite sure what they were used for. They are representative, though, of the shared forms and patterns between the peninsula and the archipelago as part of what Gina Barnes calls the Pen/Insular Culture. Similar spirals are found elsewhere in Japan, including at Yoshinogari, from about the 1st-2nd centuries. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

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This episode we start to move on into the latter part of the 3rd century, with Mimaki Iribiko’s successor, Ikume Iribiko. This episode deals with the state of the continent and the peninsula as we get one (or possibly more) visitors from those lands. We also tackle the sticky question about “Mimana” and the claims of a Japanese colony on the peninsula, which were used to justify Japanese involvement in the peninsula in the 20th century. Most of the info is in the episode, but I’ll try to lay out a few things here.

About “Kara” v. “Gaya”

So many names of things on the peninsula have changed over the years, largely because of how things were recorded. The first system of writing that was used was Sinitic writing, just as in Japan, and so the characters used were not strictly phonetic. Korea would develop its own phonetic alphabet, Hangul, just as Japan would develop katakana and hiragana, but not until much later. The early chronicles were all written with Chinese characters, and so their pronunciation is typically something debated as linguists attempt to reconstruct the old pronunciations. In general what we know today as Gaya was probably pronounced something like “Garak”, “Gara”, or even “Kara” in its own time. In much of east Asia, voiced and unvoiced consonants can be almost interchangeable, with aspiration playing a more important role, which is almost reversed from English. This can make it hard to always see the relationships between things.

As for the relationship in Japanese—as I mention in the podcast, we have various things referring to the continent that all get a “kun’yomi” reading of “Kara”. So for instance you can find 漢・唐・観 all as “Kara”, when these characters represent, respectively, the Han Dynasty (KAN), the Tang Dynasty (TOU), and Korea (KAN). Basically anything that came from the continent through the peninsula was pronounced in the same way as “Gara” or “Garak”, which was spelled in various ways including: 加羅, 伽羅, 迦羅, 柯羅, 駕洛, 迦落.

And while we are talking about potentially confusing homophones in the text, I think that we should have a talk about “Han”. I believe I mentioned this before about the fact that we have the “Han” dynasty and then we have the “Samhan” or the three Han. It is quite confusing, but the truth is that these are different words that sound the same but use different characters. So for instance you have 漢 or 汉, which are both pronounced “Han” in modern Putonghua dialect of Chinese, and which refer to either the Han dynasty or, today, the ethnic Han people—the majority ethnicity of modern China. Then you have 韓, which is also pronounced “Han” in Chinese and Korean, and it is used to refer to Korea (the modern name of the Republic of Korea is Daehan Minguk: 大韓民國), but its original use appears to have been in referring to the three Han of the Korean Peninsula. To even further complicate matters, in Japanese both are pronounced with the same On’yomi of “KAN”.

So this has two problems. First is determining when we are talking about the ethnic Han of China, to which some might just suggest that we call them “Chinese”. However, not all of the dynasties of the area that we know as China were ethnically Han. Many of them descended from different ethnic roots. Even the Tang dynasty was not considered an ethnic Han dynasty, and neither was the more recent Qing dynasty—and we aren’t even talking about the Mongolian Yuan. On top of that, we should be careful of conflating modern states and political entities with previous states or governments, especially in an area as diverse as East Asia.

Even on the peninsula, which is only a fraction of the size of the rest of the continent, we know that there were a variety of cultures mixing and mingling, and a variety of languages that were being spoken.

Duck Shaped Vessels

These duck-shaped vessels were popular in the areas that would become Gaya and Silla prior to the Three Kingdoms period. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Duck shaped vessels

These duck-shaped vessels were popular in the areas that would become Gaya and Silla prior to the Three Kingdoms period. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Glass Beadmold, 1C-3C

Mold for making glass beads on the peninsula. From the Seoul National Museum. Photo by author.

Ritual Artifact with Birds 3C-4C

Bronze ritual artifact from Goseong showing a pair of birds. Birds were an important part of the spiritual and religious life of the peninsula in early days, and even today you can find sotdae—poles topped with birds—in the Korean countryside.

Bronze TLV Mirror, 4C

From Gimhae, which also has a set of “royal” tombs that appear in the 3rd C. Bronze mirrors, originally acquired from the Han and later dynasties, were not only prestige items in the archipelago, but on the continent as well. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Bronze Spearhead 2C-3C

Bronze socketed spearhead from Gimhae around the time that the Gaya states were forming. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

Japanese Bronze Spirals 1C-3C

Bronze spiral ornaments from Japan.. From the Tokyo National, photo by author.

Magatama and other Jewelry

Examples of magatama (the comma shaped jewel) on the Korean peninsula. This design may have originated in the archipelago and then traveled west, demonstration cultural borrowing in both directions. From the Seoul National Museum, photo by author.

W. Jin Soldier, 3C

A statue of a soldier from the Western Jin, about the 3rd Century. From the Tokyo National Museum, photo by author.

References

Barnes, G. (2015). Archaeology of East Asia: The Rise of Civilization in China, Korea and Japan. Oxbow Books. Retrieved November 30, 2020, from http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt19893vd
Ō, Yasumaro, & Heldt, G. (2014). The Kojiki: An account of ancient matters. ISBN978-0-231-16389-7
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Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Nichira

Rough Transcript

References

Who’s Who

Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Ōwake no Miko

Soga no Umako no Sukune no Ōmi

Mononobe no Yuge no Moriya no Ōmuraji

Hirohime

Toyomike Kashikiya Hime

Kurabe no Sukushi no Shiba Tattō

Shima, aka Shimane, aka Zenshin-ni

Toyome, aka Zenzō-ni, and Ishime, aka Ezen-ni

Eben

Nakatomi no Iware no Muraji

Ōmiwa no Sakahe no Kimi

Rough Transcript

References

The Tone River

Rough Transcript

References

Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennō

Soga no Iname no Sukune no Ōmi

Ishihime

Yata no Tamakatsu

Osada Nunakura Futodamashiki no Mikoto, aka Bidatsu Tennō

Kasanuhi (aka Satake) no Himemiko

Kitashi Hime

Wonane Gimi

Takechi (or Takeuchi) no Sukune

Koshi no Kuni

Sushen / Mishihase (粛慎)

Sado Island

Nivkh

Kawahara Tami no Atahe no Miya

Umakai no Omi no Utayori

Umakai no Omi no Morishi and Umakai no Omi no Nasehi

Hafuri

Michi no Ushi

Shibagaki

Yamato no Aya no Atahe no Arako

Katsuraki no Atahe no Naniwa

Sagaraka (or Saganaka)

Kashiwade no Omi no Katabeko

Kose no Omi no Saru and Kishi no Akabato

Yamato no Aya no Saka no Ue no Atahe no Komaro

Nishikori no Obito no Ōshi (or Ōishi)

Wang Jinnie

Tsunoga Arashito

Kibi no Atahe no Naniwa

Iwahi and Masa

Rough Transcript

References

Who’s Who

Ame Kunioshi no Ōkimi, aka Kimmei Tennō

Soga no Iname no Sukune

Mononobe no Okoshi

Wang Jinnie and his children

Rough Transcript

References

Buddhist Art and Architecture

Gandhara and the Kushan Empire

Tarim Basin

Dunhuang

China

Rough Transcript

References

Who’s Who

SiddhartHa Gautama

Ashoka the Great

Buddhist Concepts

Tripitaka

Sutra

Vinaya

Abhidharma

Jataka Tales

The Three Jewels

Buddha