New Year's Recap 2024

January 1, 2024 Joshua Badgley

Sunset over the hills west of Asuka. Photo by author.

Happy New Year!

Welcome to our 2024 recap. This episode we look back at what we went over the past year and try to cover some broad themes. We talk about the uji-kabane system, and how the families that were created to help the government work were now starting to get a bit big for their britches, leading to the rise of families like the Soga and the Mononobe. We note that the royal succession is still something of a mess, and even things we think are rules may not actually be rules.

There’s also the coming of Buddhism, destruction of Nimna, and the rise of the Sui dynasty. In the end, we have set the stage for a new Yamato, one that sees itself in a new light.

And with that, I hope the new light for this new year is bright and wonderful for everyone. Akemashite omedetou gozaimasu!

Shinnen Akemashite! Happy New Year and Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is the New Year’s Recap episode for 2024
Every year I try to take a moment and look back at the material we covered. In part, this is to remind us of the journey we’ve been on, but it is also to help look at some of the larger themes that we might otherwise miss when we are looking at more discreet topics. This year we have not necessarily progressed through as much of the archipelago’s history as in previous years—we started in the early 530s and have probably covered about 80 or 90 years, in contrast to 2022 and before where we covered multiple centuries in a year. But there’s a good reason for that: it has been an eventful period, or at least more of the events are getting written down. However, there is a lot of important stuff going on. We are seeing, more than anywhere else, the rise of powerful families, not just individuals, a process that began as a way to expand the power of the state, but which then took on a life of its own under what is known as the uji-kabane system—the system of families and family rank. This is happening alongside of a reimagining of the state and of the royal family in particular. Many of the 8th century cultural norms are starting to be set in this period. In many ways, the people of Yamato are revising their cultural imaginary of themselves, often in reference to new ideas, concepts, and philosophies being imported from the continent. This includes the arrival of Buddhism and its shake up of the way that the people of the archipelago viewed the world and their place in it.
And so we’re going to start with a recap of the various sovereigns, then go into some of the more particular aspects of what was going on, and try to cover some of those more overarching themes. Hopefully this gives us a good base to move on into 2024.
Now over the past year we’ve gone through seven sovereigns. First was the short reign of Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennou, around 531 to 536, back in episode 79, when we talked about the glass bowl attributed to his tomb. He was followed by his brother Takewo Hirokunioshi Tate, or Senka Tennou, who reigned until his death in 539. That was Episode 80, where we also kind of kicked off the Asuka period, which many see as starting around 538.
Next, in Episodes 81 through 86, was their half-brother, Amekunioshi Hiraki Hironiwa, or Kinmei Tennou, who ruled until about 571. Amekunioshi was followed by his son, Nunakura Futodamashiki, known as Bidatsu Tennou, who ruled until 585—Episodes 88 and 89. Bidatsu was followed, in episode 90, by our fifth sovereign in this year’s line up, Tachibana no Toyohi, or Youmei Tennou, father of Prince Umayado, aka the famous Shotoku Taishi, who we talked quite a bit about for his legendary and historical importance. Youmei Tennou passed away in 587, and after some conflict, Hasebe no Wakasasaki came to the throne, remembered as Sushun Tennou. He was assasinated in 592, as we covered in Episode 92, and succeeded by Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, daughter of Amekunioshi, wife to Nunakura Futodamashiki, and known to most as Suiko Tennou. That’s where we are at present.
We also have seen a succession of high officials. We started off with Ohotomo no Kanamura and Mononobe no Arakahi as the two Ohomuraji, but we quickly saw the addition of Soga no Iname as Oho-omi. This foreshadowed the fading of the Ohotomo family appear to have lost their status with their failures in peninsular dealings, while the Mononobe and Soga continued to help lead the country. Mononobe no Arakahi was succeeded in the position of Ohomuraji by Mononobe no Okoshi, and then Mononobe no Yugehi no Moriya. Soga no Iname was succeeded to the position of Oho-omi by his son, Soga no Umako.
Taken together with Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, these are perhaps some of the main names in the Chronicles. Let’s recap what was most important about each of them.
We started this year talking about the reign of Magari no Ohine, aka Ankan Tennou. The official account says that he was the son of Wohodo, aka Keitai Tenno, and one of two of Wohodo’s sons that were basically just keeping the seat warm for their half-brother, Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou. In other words, they were kind of regents.
This story quickly falls apart, however, when you look at several factors. First, based on some of the dates given for his birth, Amekunioshi would have been around 22 years old when their father, Wohodo, passed away—young, but old enough to take the throne without requiring any kind of regent. In addition, neither of his two brothers gave up the throne to him when he finally came of age—whatever age that might have been. Instead, each one died in the position. That doesn’t exactly scream that they were giving up power.
Why this discrepancy? The best explanation is that the Chroniclers were trying to keep things nice and tidy, and
we are told that the tradition was for sovereigns to only come from lineages where both the male and female lines were considered royal—one sovereign and one royal princess, typically, who would be raised up as the Queen, and whose offspring would be eligible for the throne. However, that was slightly disrupted by Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, who seems to have taken the throne despite the fact that his two half-brothers and their offspring may have had the stronger claim. Still, he was able to point to his mother’s royal status. In fact, she was even of the previous dynasty, sister to the last sovereign from that line, Wohatsuse Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou. Or so we are told by the Chroniclers.
. And so only Amekunioshi’s mother is considered to be the truly legitimate queen, while Magari no Ohine and the other so-called “regent” brother - Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou - must have been from a consort other than the Wohodo’s main wife. Their mother, Menoko, was instead linked to a prominent family, that of the Owari no Muraji, but it is unclear if they had the royal connections on her side—though I have little doubt that they could have been invented if they didn’t already exist.
I would point out that even given this explanation, both of the brothers were given the posthumous honors of “Tenno”, rather than being referred to as a regent, whereas the sovereign Okinaga no Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Kougou, also ostensibly a regent, was never granted that honor, at least by the Chroniclers. We discussed this a bit in Episodes 41 and 42, and how that may have been due to the Chroniclers’ misogynistic tendencies as much as anything. There is a suggestion that in reality, these two brothers may have been rival claimants, and there may have even been competing courts, as different family members rallied support to their side.And all of that perfectly helps illustrate just how we think things might have looked around this time. Succession to the royal throne hardly appears to have been cut and dry. Even before this period, we saw times where there were multiple claimants , regents, etc. There is no clear pattern by which we can deduce who would succeed any given sovereign: it might be a brother, or any of their sons, or even a daughter. And without a clear system of succession, every time the sovereign passed away, there was a competition for the throne.

You might recall that the mutual father of these three sovereigns, Wohodo, was himself said to have been the first in a new dynasty-- the previous dynasty died out with Wohodo’s predecessor, Wohatsuse no Wakasazaki, aka Buretsu Tennou. There are a lot of questions around this transition, but even the Chroniclers couldn’t immediately connect Wohodo to the previous lineage without having to go all the way back to Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, on his father’s side, and to Ikume Iribiko, aka Suinin Tennou, on his mother’s side, but there are still plenty of questions about those ties and how real they were.

When it comes to the complications of succession, one thing to factor in is that this was still in the time when every sovereign moved into a new palace. There are various thoughts on why this was —one of them being that the move prevented spiritual pollution associated with a dead body. I also wonder if it wasn’t practical as the new sovereign may have already had their own base of power, or perhaps by building new it was a way to ensure that the buildings were always fresh and free of any problems, as I believe these early buildings were largely built of fresh, untreated wood. Whatever the reason, moving to a new palace each time also means that there wasn’t an actual, physical throne to fight over. Rival sovereigns could set themselves up in different areas in and around the Nara basin, Kawachi, et cetera, and gather supporters to their court.
Those supporters, no doubt individuals with some power and clout in their region who saw benefit in allying themselves with an even bigger name, would eventually become the heads of various corporate families, further extending their power and influence. There is plenty of reason to believe that the family systems we see on the archipelago were not necessarily indigenous creations. Early on people were associated with a place, perhaps, and of course you would know your line of descent, possibly even going back into myth and legend. The concept of “family” as simply a matter of descent and relationship no doubt existed—after all, everyone has a mother and a father. However, the idea of families with wide ranging control over a particular industry, administrative function, or even court ritual were likely imported from the continent as a way to group people together. In fact, these are often referred to more as “clans”—groups of individuals who claimed shared descent, whether real or imagined, often from some legendary figure. The new concept of these families not only grouped people based on things like their occupation or common ethnicity, if they came from the peninsula, but it also added a layer of administration that was then tied into the concept of the Yamato court, making it an extension of the government. In turn, the government classified these families through a system of rank and titles—the kabane.
This system had people being known as much or even more by their family name as they were by the common name they went by as individuals. Originally we see individuals working in similar professions organized into groups that used the term “-Be” in the name, but later we get the “uji”, or familial clans, that were more like administrators and extensions of the court. Of note, there would continue to be many people who were not formally part of a particular -Be or Uji or even Ie, or “house”. These were mostly individuals of the common agricultural class or similar, and long lineages might have no actual family name until the Meiji period, when everyone was expected to take on a family name as part of the efforts to modernize the country. Until then, having a family name meant that you actually were already a part of the upper crust of society, even if you were only on the bottommost rung of that particular social ladder.
In addition, a family name allowed someone to take on the family kabane, or title. While there were some titles that appear to be given to the individual, these kabane titles, such as Suguri, Kishi, Atahe, Kimi, Muraji, and Omi, designated entire families. These terms themselves appear to come from earlier job positions, indicating different types of leadership, from a local headmaster up to rulers of countries, and high ministers of the court. For example, the title of “Omi” was originally a job description, indicating one of the many functionaries that made the court run, but as a kabane, any member of a given family would be able to use the term, whether they were actually in a ministerial position or not.
At this point, these important families were essentially an extension of the state—a way to decentralize control so that the Yamato state could function at an expanded level. Some families appear to have been set up around local administration, including making local chieftains and the like part of their own family unit that was then granted control of the area by the court. During the period we’ve covered this past year, we see that approach of absorbing regional families mature and grow, and those families taking on greater roles: initially with stories of the Ohotomo and Mononobe families, culminating in the powerful Soga family.
For the Ohotomo and the Mononobe, the family name likely tells us part of what and who they were. The Ohotomo were the Great Tomo, or the Great Tomo no Miyatsuko. These Tomo no Miyatsuko are some of the earliest court nobles, and it would make sense that the Ohotomo were at their head—which would also explain their position as the Oho-omi in the 5th and early 6th centuries. Next to this family were the Mononobe, the Be (occupational group) of the Warriors, or Mononofu. Together these families represented the early concepts of administration and military might. However, as the families continued to evolve, they became independent from the roles they were originally created to hold. The Ohotomo would eventually fall from power, and in their place would rise up the Mononobe. However, the Mononobe would also find themselves on the outs, especially in the tumultuous period following Amekunioshi’s death.
It was at this time that a new family would rise up to take their place: the Soga, which we’ve heard a lot about this year. The head of the Soga, Soga no Iname, had positioned his family in part through carefully marrying his daughters into the royal line. While this had been done in the past, it wasn’t to the extent or success that the Soga were able to achieve: In only a single generation, Iname saw Soga descended sovereigns on the throne. This took place, of course, with not a small amount of maneuvering and the eradication of rival lineages. It was their own Game of Thrones playing out, with the families created to serve the state and the royal family grabbing for themselves more power. This would seem to be an unexpected consequence of a concept that had initially helped expand the royal authority, and we’ll only continue to see more of it in the coming decades and centuries.
At the same time that all of this was playing out on the archipelago, things on the continent were also changing. First and foremost, in that it was closest to home for Yamato, was the rising power of Silla on the Korean peninsula.
Up to this point, most of the Korean peninsula appears to have been a collection of small, regional polities, with occasional alliances between them. There were two or three kingdoms of note. In the north was Goryeo, a shortened version of the original name, Goguryeo, which is how we generally refer to it today to distinguish it from the 10th century state of the same name. It was the oldest of the various kingdoms, and claimed descent from the northern Buyeo kingdom, centered in modern Manchuria.
In the southwest of the peninsula was the kingdom of Baekje. They, too, claimed descent from the nobility of Buyeo, and they were made up of many of the various polities collectively referred to as Mahan. While Goguryeo was ruling up in the north, Baekje was one of the first kingdoms to set up shop in the southern end of the peninsula.
Then there was Silla. Originally a confederation of six polities in the area known as the Jinhan, they eventually became a kingdom and started pushing against the other polities in the region. This includes the fledgling kingdom of Kara, mostly known as a confederation of smaller polities from the old Byeonhan region. There are royal style tombs in the area, but before they could really get going Kara and the other polities fell under the control of the kingdom of Silla. This included groups like Ara and the controversial polity of Nimna. This set Baekje and Silla in direct confrontation, as Silla’s land grab eliminated much of the buffer territory between the two of them.
Nimna appears to have been of particular concern to Yamato, and appears to have been one of Yamato’s allies, along with Baekje. While Baekje appears to have been the stronger of the two, Nimna may have had a special place for Yamato, especially as it may have been an important port for Yamato ships traveling to trade with the rest of the continent. Nimna being under Silla rule would have made this trade much more risky, as the Silla-Yamato relationship was often a rocky one. Yamato attempted to move Nimna out from under Silla control, both through an alliance with Baekje, in concert with some of the other polities, as well as through attempts to take the country by force—most of which excursions were called off for one reason or another.
At the same time, Baekje had been in decline, generally speaking. They moved their capital farther south after being defeated by Goguryeo. They were rebuilding, and still a powerful force, but not quite at the height of their power.
Farther on the mainland, between the Yellow and Yangzi rivers, the period of the Northern and Southern Courts was coming to a close, and the Sui dynasty would eventually rule much of the Middle Kingdom, what is today modern China. They would bring a stability to the region and embark on public works projects that would forever change the face of East Asia.
As all of this was happening, influences were coming from the west. We mentioned the Sassanian glass bowl and similar wares that made their way from the Middle East all the way to Japan—though whether as part of a sovereign’s burial or not might still be up for debate. Nonetheless, we know that the overland trade routes were booming, even if the occasional instability might disrupt them now and again. The whole of Asia was more connected than we often give it credit for.
Along this road came not only material goods, but new ideas. Greek culture had reached at least as far as Gandhara, modern Pakistan and Afghanistan, and from east of the Indus came a new religion: Buddhism. It spread along the silk road, eventually finding a home in China, where it flourished, and continued to spread to the Korean peninsula and then, in the 6th century, to the archipelago of Japan.
Buddhism came hand in hand with other mainland texts, exploring a variety of science and philosophy. We discussed how the mainstream story of the introduction of Buddhism is likely not entirely correct. That story sets up a conflict between the foreign religion of Buddhism and the worship of local kami—the practices that would become Shinto. So, resistance to Buddhism is initially depicted as a resistance to foreign influence and the need to continue to support indigenous belief. The reality, however, is much more complex.
First is the role of kami worship in the expansion and exercise of State power. The archaeological record demonstrates some expansion of Yamato ritual in the spread of various kofun styles —especially the royal keyhole shaped kofun, which were clearly adopted by others, demonstrating Yamato’s influence. More subtly, we see the spread of Yamato ritualists to various parts of the archipelago, and eventually the spread of various beliefs—though it may be somewhat difficult to say just when belief in any particular kami started at this period. Remember, though, the way that powerful physical icons of the kami, such as mirrors and swords, had been taken by the Yamato sovereign and held by the court. We touched on this back in Episode 20, where we discussed on Yamato took on “guardianship” for various relics, almost like they were taking sacred hostages. Worship of the kami was intertwined with statecraft, and spiritual power and political power were both a part of the mix along with actual military power. If you could perform a ritual that people felt was effectual, that was seen as on par with actual governance. We also see this in the way that various families identified with different kami, such as the Mononobe and their link to the deity of Isonokami shrine, and the Royal family with the deity of Mt. Miwa.
Worship, however, was already starting to take on a continental tinge, as we see in stories about various deities, and the practice of worship. This was no doubt influenced by immigrants from the Korean peninsula, who brought their own stories and beliefs. Furthermore, whenever nothing else seemed to be working, bringing in new and exotic ritual practices from across the sea was likely seen as New and Shiny. It was, after all, the latest in spiritual technology, and that foreign-ness and lack of local understanding would have led not only to its also having a somewhat mysterious quality, but also in the power that comes with being the only ones to quote-unquote “understand” the power of it and how to translate it. If you were a 5th or 6th century ritualist family, if you could get hold of things that seemed to be ancient practices from the continent that nobody else really knew or understood, you were automatically the local subject matter expert.
Furthermore, there wasn’t necessarily a single, unified concept of how the kami worked, either. Kami worship was often localized, and then later would spread as others heard about particularly powerful kami and rituals. But there was no single concept of “Shinto”—there’s no evidence that Izumo, Yamato, and Kibi all had the same origin stories, and, in fact, the many different stories that make up the Age of the Gods in the Chronicles speaks to the idea that there were many different stories, depending on who you asked.
In many ways, this is even true today. While there are general themes that most Shinto shrines and practitioners follow, ritual practices from place to place may vary wildly. This is less so in places that were part of more unified systems, such as the shrines connected to the royal family or those regulated by State Shinto in the Meiji period through World War II, but even today you can find a variety of differing beliefs and rituals in Shinto, even as most things appear to be the same on the outside. A shrine’s teachings may have local meaning or local rituals that are not practiced elsewhere, though many will fall into a recognizable cultural milieu that tends to make them more standardized. As a small, but visible example, different shrines may have different omamori—protection amulets—that they offer. While most offer amulets against sickness, disaster, or for attaining goals, some may have specific amulets for the martial arts, while others may have more specific amulets about love and marriage. These will often be based on those things which the shrine and its kami are most associated with.
In many ways, the Soga clan’s acceptance of and use of Buddhism early on emphasizes this kind of spiritual borrowing, but to an extent that went well beyond what anyone else had done. Most groups or families seem to have borrowed bits and pieces from the continent and then applied them to their local customs, but the Soga appear to have taken on Buddhism wholesale. The benefit was that Buddhism wasn’t just a few new practices—it was an entire corpus of material, with a rich written tradition.
Of course the writing was primarily in Sinic script, which was not exactly accessible to most people. And early attempts at building temples and holding worship demonstrate a clear lack of understanding of Buddhist rites and rituals – indeed they are described much more like what one might expect to see in kami worship, with an emphasis on Buddhist “feasts”. This may have been an attempt to make these new practices more accessible, but I believe that it is more likely that these early attempts at Buddhism were trying to treat the Buddha as another kami, through which the Soga family could control access to rites and rituals and thus gain political power through their perceived spiritual power. It didn’t hurt that, when they finally did build some temples, they were in the continental style, even further illustrating the Soga family’s connection with all of these new fangled ideas coming over from across the sea.
This was likely facilitated by the Soga family’s connections to the immigrant community, particularly to various people from Baekje whom they sponsored and who, in turn, would be able to assist them in various ways. These included people like Shiba Tattou and his family, who were regularly assisting Soga no Iname and Soga no Umako in their endeavors. This may in part explain why early Buddhist images were coming over from Baekje, Yamato’s ally at the time, though that may have been coincidental or even a catalyst—it isn’t entirely clear.
It is also intriguing to me that I have not seen a clear reference to a Soga family shrine. Perhaps the Soga themselves were from the continent, originally—that may explain some of the earlier Soga names that appear to reference the peninsula and even Goguryeo. Then again, it is hard to say—it may be that the Soga family shrine was never of as much import as their eventual attachment to Buddhist institutions.
For those in power who could see how the Soga family was using this new religion, it is little wonder that they pushed back against it. They had no particular reason to see Buddhism as anything particularly special, but they no doubt knew that the Soga would use it as a platform to further enhance their position. And the powers-that-be succeeded several times, it would seem, in resisting Soga attempts to found a new ritual center.
The Soga, however, had already gained considerable power outside of Buddhism. Much of their rise is not entirely catalogued, but by the time of Soga no Iname, things were looking good. The Ohotomo family was on the decline, which likely created something of a power vacuum that Soga no Iname was able to exploit.
By the way, there is a thought that early on the position of “Muraji” was actually superior to that of “Omi”, and it may be that the “Oho-omi” position was not quite as prestigious as that of Ohomuraji. This is obscured by the fact that by the time of the Chronicles, the Oho-omi position clearly eclipsed the position of Ohomuraji, and that is projected back into the distant past by the Chroniclers. This would speak to the idea that the Soga family was actually ranked behind the Ohotomo and the Mononobe, originally, but their Omi family was on the rise, and eventually their position as Oho-omi, the Great Omi, became the most influential position at court.
This may go along with the fact that Soga no Iname is also given the personal kabane of Sukune in the Chronicles, which is described as the highest personal title that could be bestowed on an individual.That also speaks to his personal power and influence at court. Of course, he is described by these terms from early on, even though he likely received them later in his career, and so it can be difficult to track just when he came to the peak of his effectiveness. There is also the possibility that some of it is projected back on him because of his offspring, though even then he was still likely someone of consequence to be able to have those familial connections with the royal family in the first place.
I suspect that much of Iname’s position was likely derived from his access to Baekje and other immigrants and their access to reading, writing, and the new technologies that the court was hungering for. Iname then parlayed that position into strategic marriages with the royal house. Several consorts were from the Soga lineage, daughters of Soga no Iname. Their sons and daughters, while royal princes and princesses, would also be connected to their Soga relatives. This was a not uncommon ploy, as we’ve seen it in many other cases as well.
However, then something happened that would disrupt the apple cart. Remember hwo we talked about how a sovereign was supposed to be be descended from the royal family through both their paternal and maternal lines?
Amekunioshi was succeeded by his son Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou. His mother had been Ishi Hime, son of Amekunioshi’s half-brother, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi Tate, aka Senka Tennou. But when he died, his son, Hikobito, was not made sovereign. Instead, the throne passed to his half-brother, Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, a son of Amekunioshi and a daughter of Soga no Iname—so royal blood on only half of the family’s side.
Following him, we see a bloody fight for the throne, largely personified by the military forces of the Mononobe v. those of the Soga. Remember, the Mononobe had started as the Be of the warriors. They were expected to be the armies of the court, at least in Yamato and the archipelago. In previous reigns they had been the ones to mete out punishment and to be given charge of places like the Yamato government’s outpost in Kyushu, from which point armies would be launched against the continent. They did not, however, have a monopoly on military power. Many families participated in raids against the peninsula, so we can assume that there were many who had their own, private forces. While the Mononobe may have been the court’s warriors, they had also branched out into other areas of administration, as well as maintaining the ritual site of Isonokami.
The Soga versus Mononobe fight also saw various royal princes pitted against each other, and many would-be sovereigns were killed. Prince Hikohito, whom one might think as the eldest son of Nunakura was the heir presumptive, was killed, and the Mononobe ended up supporting Prince Anahobe against the Soga’s candidate, Prince Hasebe. However, both of these candidates were descended from daughters of Soga no Iname—nobody was putting up a candidate that truly had royal blood on both sides.
In the end, the Soga were victorious, and they destroyed the Mononobe—though not entirely. The Mononobe were certainly out of power, but they would continue to exist in a more minor role. The Soga candidate, Hasebe, was then placed on the throne as Sushun Tenno, while Soga no Umako enjoyed unparalleled power as Oho-omi.
However, despite his Soga lineage, and the fact that Soga no Umako had helped put him on the throne, Hasebe was not necessarily going to let himself be controlled. And so Soga no Umako resorted, we are told, to assassination, to clear the throne for someone else. And that someone else was none other than Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou.
She is something of an enigma. She is the first woman to be granted the title of “Tennou” by the Chroniclers, and several accounts make her seem like she was a shrewd operator. She had been the second wife of her half-brother, Nunakura Futodamashiki, and she’d been in or near the halls of power since his reign. And yet some believe her to be little more than a puppet for Soga no Umako, while others believe she was a consensus candidate who was largely inoffensive to the majority of the court. This is further complicated by the fact that she didn’t even name her own offspring as Crown Prince, designated to succeed her. Rather, that position went to none other than her nephew, the Prince of the Upper Palace, Kamitsumiya, aka the Prince of the Stable Door, Umayado, more popularly known today as Prince Shotoku Taishi.
Shotoku Taishi is a mytho-historical figure by all accounts. While many believe that an actual prince existed, he is given credit for almost anything good that happened. Although the Soga family was clearly responsible for bringing in Buddhism, it is Shotoku Taishi who is credited with spreading the holy religion. He is also said to have written the first constitution for the state, and set up a court rank system similar to the continent, though still unique to Yamato.
He is said to have ruled jointly with his aunt, and is treated in later stories as a dharma king, even though he never took on the actual mantle of sovereign. Of course, Soga no Umako also exerted a huge influence, and in the end it is hard to say exactly who held the real power amongst the three: Kashikiya Hime, Prince Umayado, or Soga no Umako.
Umayado was the first to pass away, however—which may have also contributed to his holy status as any problems could be passed off as belonging to his aunt or, even better, to his grand-uncle, Soga no Umako, who would follow Umayado in death a few years later, and then, finally, Kashikiya Hime herself would succumb to time. They all passed away within a decade of each other, but Kashikiya Hime would manage to outlast them all.
Through this reign, for all of the fighting and politics, many of the foundations were laid for a reimagining of the Yamato state, the sovereign, and the vehicles of power. The court had spread their control through ritual, through the familial system, and through the establishment of Miyake—government outposts designed to control rice land and send tribute back in the form of tax. However, now they were formalizing that structure and in so doing they were putting a legal framework around it. Built around a continental model, the throne became the source of rank for the individual, not just the family, and that rank could be given out across the archipelago. This set up some of what was needed to start to move towards a more bureaucratic state in the continental model.
Certainly, we see that Yamato power had expanded. Further out from Yamato, we see the round, keyhole shaped tombs becoming popular, while closer to the Nara basin, they actually began to die out. In part this can be seen as a possible sign of Yamato control, since the local elites were no longer being represented as rulers, but in a lesser capacity. However, it then takes a real turn as even the sovereigns—or at least the Soga descended sovereigns—are no longer buried in keyhole shaped tombs, either, and these tombs become smaller. This may be, at least in part, because resources to build tombs were being redirected into the new temple building craze. For whatever reason, Buddhism had caught on, at least amongst the elites. If the Soga family had hoped to control Buddhism, they appear to have failed. Numerous temples started up, tied to different families, most of them connected, in some way, with various immigrant groups in the archipelago. Where this would go, we’ll have to see.
And that largely catches us up. I skipped over a few things, but it is worth recalling the Haruna eruptions that we covered back in episode 87, which reminds us that the Chronicles really only give us a narrow view of everything that was going on. Much of the history of the archipelago remains unrecorded, and is only understood through the archaeological record. While a lot was happening in Yamato, there was plenty going on elsewhere, but we only see it when it touches on Yamato and their politics.
And so we learn a little more about the creation of the Dazaifu, and we hear about natural disasters, such as earthquakes and floods, but only if they affect the Nara basin. There are some hints in the fudoki, the local gazetteers that were compiled in the 8th century to catalog the local stories and histories, but we only have so much, and even then the stories aren’t always easy to place in a truly chronological context. Still, we can see some general themes running throughout this period.
As we start into 2024, we’ll finish up with the reign of Kashikiya Hime. Before her reign ends, we’ll also see the rise of the Tang dynasty on the continent—a new inspiration for Yamato, but also a new threat, especially as they ally with Silla. Also, with Prince Umayado gone, who will next take the reins of power? And what will happen with the Soga family? Will Umako’s children prove as formidable as he was? There is plenty more to look forward to.
Until then, Happy New Year! As usual, thank you for listening and for all of your support. Thanks also to my lovely wife, Ellen, for her continued work at helping to edit these episodes!
Remember, if you like what we are doing, please 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.

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Episode 100: Sacred Tetris and Other Tidbits

December 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Gigaku mask from the Nara period, from the Kimbell Art Museum. Photo in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

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It's the last episode of 2023, and our 100th episode! But despite that, we keep on moving through the period, hitting a bunch of smaller stories from the Nihon Shoki about this period.

We talk about Zentoku no Omi, the temple commissioner of Hokoji, as well as the trouble they went through to get the Asukadera Daibutsu in place to begin with. We have the first instance of the Dazai--as in the Dazaifu of Kyushu--as well as the first instance of the holiday that would eventually become Children's Day, Kodomo no Hi. There are various immigrants, bringing painting, handmills, and even a new kind of musical dance theater known as gigaku. And that's just some of what we'll cover.

By the way, quick note about Buddhist temples in Japan. The temple names typically end with the suffix “-ji” (寺), so Hōkōji is literally “Hōkō Temple”. However, there are also other suffixes, such as “-in” (院) like the Byōdōin. Often these may be part of a larger temple, but can be viewed as a temple themselves. We are therefore left with the dilemma of whether to just say “Hōkōji” or “Byōdōin” or to say “Hōkōji Temple” and “Byōdōin Temple” in order to be clear. For me, I tend to choose the former, so as not to repeat myself (“Hōkōji Temple” is basically saying “Hōkō Temple Temple”), but on occasion I will use it for clarity.

Zentoku no Omi

Zentoku no Omi (善徳臣) is said to be the son of the “Oho-omi” (大臣), aka Soga no Umako. Since his other son, Soga no Emishi, would probably have been about 11 years old at this point in time, it is thought that Zentoku was older to be given the post of Temple commissioner, or tera-no-tsukasa (寺造), which seems a logical conclusion. Interestingly, it would be Emishi who would go on to head up the family in later years.

Temporary Palace of Miminashi and the Move to Oharida

Kashikiya Hime’s first palace was at Toyora (Toyoura), but here we are told that she was in a temporary palace as heavy rains had flooded the “palace”—which may be referring to Toyora. Shortly thereafter they moved to the Oharida (or Woharida) palace, traditionally placed just to the north, but some archaeologists have suggested that it may be just across the Asuka river on the other side, instead. This was all very close to Hōkōji and the Soga family mansion. Toyora was then given over completely to be the nunnery companion to Hōkōji.

Introduction of the Hirami

The hirami is a pleated, wrapped skirt, and for more, check out our entry in the section of Men’s Garments here on the website.

Installation of the Buddha Image at Hōkōji

When the giant Buddha at Hōkōji was installed it seems that there was a bit of a problem, as it wouldn’t fit through the doorways of the kondō, or Golden Image Hall. Fortunately, the person who designed the image, Kuratsukuri no Tori, had an idea.

Baekje Priests Land at Ashigita

The story about a boatload of Baekje priests who were bound for Wu being turned back and blown off course seems reasonable enough, but it is interesting that they stop at Ashigita, in Tsukushi. Ashigita has previous connections to Baekje, going back at least to the stories about Nichira, aka Illa.

First Mention of Dazai

The position of Dazai (太宰) was extremely important in helping to extend the power of the court in the Yamato region all the way out to the far western edge of the archipelago. We’ve seen it grow from a military post into something much more. This would also become the primary receiving point for most guests to Yamato from the 7th century onward, at modern Fukuoka. It probably is one of the best indicators for the extension of Yamato control all the way out to the westernmost edge, but it was also a heck of a long way from the center of politics at court.

Tango no Sekku

The early festival of 5/5 was based around gathering herbs or flowers, possibly for medicinal purposes and to “ward off evil”, which amount to the same thing. Around the Kamakura period it would morph into the “Boy’s Day” festival and later become a generic “Kodomo no Hi”, or “Children’s Day”

Re-interment of Kitashi Hime

It was not uncommon for someone to be placed in a temporary burial and then later have the bones buried in the final resting place. This was especially the case if the final tomb mound wasn’t ready, yet. By this point, many tombs were made so that they could be reopened, and we have evidence that there were people buried at different times in the same chamber, even. Still, one has to also wonder if this wasn’t making a statement about the legitimacy of the Soga lineage, now that several of her children had sat on the throne. She was being treated with the full honors of having been Queen.

Shikomaro

It is interesting that we get a look at a potential ancient disease, here: ringworm. Not surprising that people might want to throw him overboard, as disease was something very much to be afraid of at this time, since causes and cures were both largely unknown. What medicines were available may or may not have been effective at anything beyond treating the symptoms. Assuming it was ringworm then they probably were correct that it was infectious—it can be transferred through skin to skin contact, and a boat is not a large place to begin with. So I guess it was a good thing he had some skills that made people think they should tolerate him. That said, ringworm is still common, today, and while it may be annoying it is generally not something that is known as a major mortality factor.

Gigaku

Finally, we have Mimashi introducing Gigaku (伎楽). This is different from Gagaku (雅楽), and you can see one of the classic Gigaku masks at the top of this page.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 100: Sacred Tetris and Other Tidbits
First off: woohoo! One hundred episodes! Thank you to everyone who has been listening and following along on this journey so far. When I started this I had no idea how long I would be able to keep up with it, but I appreciate everyone who has encouraged me along the way. This all started in September of 2019, and we are now four years in and we have a ways to go. While I’m thanking people, I’d also like to give a big thank you to my wife, Ellen, who has been helping me behind the scenes. She’s the one who typically helps read through what I’m going to say and helps edit out a lot of things, and provides reminders of things that I sometimes forget. She really helps to keep me on track, and I always appreciate the time she puts into helping to edit the scripts and the questions she asks.
Now, we are still talking about the 6th and early 7th centuries during the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno. We’ve talked about a lot of different aspects of this period—about the conflicts over Nimna on the peninsula, about the rise of the Sui dynasty on the continent, and the importation of various continental goods, including animals, immigrants, and knowledge. That knowledge included new ideas about governance as well as religious practices such as Buddhism—and possibly other religious practices as well, as many of the stories that we saw in the Age of the Gods may have analogs on the continent and may just as easily have been coming over with the current crop of immigrants, though it is hard to say for certain. At the heart of these changes are three individuals. Obviously there is Kashikiya Hime, on the throne through a rather intricate and bloody series of events. Then there is Soga no Umako, her maternal uncle, who has been helping to keep the Soga family on top. And of course, the subject of our last couple episodes, Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi. He, of course, is credited with the very founding of the Japanese state through the 17 article constitution and the promulgation of Buddhism.
This episode, I’d like to tackle some of the little things. Some of the stories that maybe didn’t make it into other episodes up to this point. For this, we’ll mostly look at it in a chronological fashion, more or less.
As you may recall, Kashikiya Hime came to the throne in about 593, ruling in the palace of Toyoura. This was around the time that the pagoda was erected at Houkouji temple—and about the time that we are told that Shitennouji temple was erected as well. Kashikiya Home made Umayado the Crown Prince, despite having a son of her own, as we’d mentioned previously, and then, in 594, she told Umayado and Umako to start to promulgate Buddhism, kicking off a temple building craze that would sweep the nation—or at least the areas ruled by the elites of Yamato.
By 596, Houkouji was finished and, in a detail I don’t think we touched on when talking about Asukadera back in episode 97, they appointed as commissioner one Zentoku no Omi—or possibly Zentoko, in one reading I found. This is a curious name, since “Zentoku” comes across as a decidedly Buddhist name, and they really liked to use the character “Zen”, it feels like, at this time. In fact, it is the same name that the nun, the daughter of Ohotomo no Sadehiko no Muraji, took, though the narrative is very clear about gender in both instances, despite them having the exact same Buddhist names. This name isn’t exactly unique, however, and it is also the name recorded for the Silla ruler, Queen Seondeok, whose name uses the same two characters, so it is possible that at this time it was a popular name—or perhaps people just weren’t in the mood to get too creative, yet.
However, what is particularly interesting to me, is that the name “Zentoku” is then followed by the kabane of “Omi”. As you may recall from Episode XX, a kabane is a level of rank, but associated with an entire family or lineage group rather than an individual. So while there are times where we have seen “personal name” + “kabane” in the past, there is usually a surname somewhere in there. In this case, we aren’t told the surname, but we know it because we are given the name of Zentoku’s father: we are told that he was the son of none other than the “Oho-omi”, the Great Omi, aka Soga no Umako. So, in summary, one of Soga no Umako’s sons took the tonsure and became a monk.
I bring this little tidbit up because there is something that seems very odd to me and, at the same time, very aristocratic, about taking vows, retiring from the world, and yet still being known by your family’s title of rank. Often monks are depicted as outside of the civil rank and status system—though there were certainly ranks and titles within the priesthood. I wonder if it read as strange to the 8th century readers, looking back on this period. It certainly seems to illustrate quite clearly how Buddhism at this point was a tool of the elite families, and not a grass-roots movements among the common people.
This also further strengthens the idea that Houkouji was the temple of the Soga—and specifically Soga no Umako. Sure, as a Soga descendant, Prince Umayado may have had some hand in it, but in the end it was the head of the Soga family who was running the show, and so he appoints one of his own sons as the chief commissioner of the temple. They aren’t even trying to hide the connection. In fact, having one of his sons “retire” and start making merit through Buddhist practice was probably a great PR move, overall.
We don’t hear much more from Zentoku after this point, and we really know very little about him. We do know something about the Soga family, and we know that Soga no Umako has at least one other son. While we’ve yet to see him in the narrative—children in the Nihon Shoki are often meant to be neither seen nor heard, it would seem—Umako’s other son is known to us as Soga no Emishi. Based on when we believe Soga no Emishi was born, however, he would have been a child, still, when all this was happening, and so Zentoku may have actually been his father’s eldest son, taking the reins at Houkouji temple, likely setting him up to claim a role of spiritual leadership in the new religion of Buddhism. Compare this to what we see later, and also in other places, such as Europe, where it is often the second son that is sent into religious life, while the eldest son—the heir—is kept at hand to succeed the father in case anything happens. On the other hand, I am unsure if the monks of this time had any sort of celibacy that was expected of them, and I suspect that even as the temple commissioner, the tera no Tsukasa, Zentoku was keeping his hand in. After all, the Soga family head appears to have been staying near the temple as well, so it isn’t like they were packing him off to the high mountains.
Moving on, in 601 we are told that Kashikiya Hime was in a temporary palace at a place called Miminashi, when heavy rains came and flooded the palace site. This seems to be referring to flooding of Toyoura palace, which was, we believe, next to the Asuka river. I wonder, then, if that wasn’t the impetus for, two years later, in 603, moving the palace to Woharida, and leaving the old palace buildings to become a nunnery. That Woharida palace is not thought to have been very far away—traditionally just a little ways north or possibly across the river.
In 604, with the court operating out of the new Woharida palace, we see the institution of more continental style traditions. It includes the idea of bowing when you entered or left the palace grounds—going so far as to get on your hands and knees for the bow. Even today, it is customary to bow when entering a room—particularly a traditional room like in a dojo or similar—and it is also customary to bow when passing through a torii gate, entering into a sacred space. Of course, that is often just a standing bow from the waist, and not a full bow from a seated position.
In 605, with more continental culture being imported, we see it affecting fashion. In fact, in this year we are told that Prince Umayado commanded all the ministers to wear the “hirami”. The kanji simply translates to “pleats”, but in clothing terms this refers to a pleated skirt or apron. We see examples of this in courtly clothing going back to at least the Han dynasty, if not earlier, typically tied high above the waist and falling all the way down so that only the tips of the shoes are poking out from underneath. We have a bit more on this in the historical clothing section of the Sengoku Daimyo website, sengokudaimyo.com.
I wonder if these wrapped skirts aren’t some of what we see in the embroidered Tenjukoku mandala of Chuuguuji. Court women would continue to wear some kind of pleated skirt-like garment, which would become the mo, though for men they would largely abandon the fashion, except for some very specific ritual outfits. That said, there is still an outfit used for some imperial ceremonies. It is red, with many continental and what some might consider Taoist symbols, such as dragons, the sun and moon, etc.. That continuation of tradition gives us some idea of what this was and what it may have looked like back in the day. It is also very neat that we are starting to get specific pieces of potentially identifiable clothing information, even if it is only for the court nobles.
The year following that, 606, we get the giant Buddha image being installed at Houkouji, aka Asukadera. Or at least, we think that is the one they are talking about, as we can’t be one hundred percent certain. However, it is traditionally thought to be one and the same. The copper and gold image was commissioned a year prior, along with an embroidered image as well, but when they went to install it they ran into a slight problem: The statue was too large to fit through the doors of the kondo, the golden image hall. No doubt that caused some embarrassment—it is like ordering furniture that won’t fit through the doorway, no matter how you and your friends try to maneuver it around. They were thinking they would have to cut through the doors of the kondo to create more room, and then fix it afterwards. Nobody really wanted to do that thought—whether because they thought it would damage the structural integrity of the building or they just didn’t want to have to put up with an unsightly scar, it isn’t clear. Finally, before they took such extreme measures, they called on the original artist, Kuratsukuri no Tori. He is said to be the son of the famous Shiba Tattou, and so his family was quite close with the Soga, and he seems to have had quite the eye for geometry as we are told that he, “by way of skill”, was able to get it through the doors and into the hall. I don’t know if that meant he had to some how turn it on its side and walk it through, or something else, but whatever it was, it worked. Tori’s mad Tetris skills worked, and they were able to install the giant Buddha in the hall without cutting through the doorways.
For his efforts, Tori was rewarded, and he was raised up to the rank of Dainin, one of the 12 new ranks of the court. He was also given 20 cho worth of “water fields”—likely meaning rice paddies. With the income from those fields, we are told that he invested in a temple of his own: Kongoji, later known as the nunnery of Sakata in Minabuchi.
For all that Buddhism was on the rise, the worship of the kami was still going strong as well. In 607 we are told that there was an edict that everyone should worship the kami of heaven and earth, and we are told that all of the noble families complied. I would note that Aston wonders about this entry, as the phrasing looks like something you could have taken right out of continental records, but at the same time, it likely reflects reality to some extent. It is hard to see the court just completely giving up on the traditional kami worship, which would continue to be an important part of court ritual. In fact, it is still unclear just how the new religion of Buddhism was viewed, and how much people understood the Buddha to be anything more than just another type of kami.
Later in that same year was the mission to the Sui court, which we discussed in Episode 96. The year after, the mission returned to Yamato with Sui ambassadors, and then, in 609, those ambassadors returned to the Sui court. These were the missions of that infamous letter, where the Yamato court addressed the Sui Emperor as an equal. “From the child of heaven in the land where the sun rises to the child of heaven in the land where the sun sets.” It is still one of my favorite little pieces of history, and I constantly wonder if Yamato didn’t understand the difference in scale or if they just didn’t care. Either way, some really powerful vibes coming off that whole thing.
That same year that the Sui ambassadors were going back to their court there was another engagement with foreigners. In this case the official on the island of Tsukushi, aka Kyuushuu, reported to the Yamato court that 2 priests from Baekje, along with 10 other priests and 75 laypersons had anchored in the harbor of Ashigita, in the land of Higo, which is to say the land of Hi that was farther from Yamato, on the western side of Kyuushuu. Ashigita, you may recall, came up in Episode 89 in reference to the Baekje monk—and I use that term loosely—Nichira, aka Illa. There, Nichira was said to descend from the lord of Ashigita, who was said to be Arisateung, a name which appears to be a Korean—possibly Baekje—title. So now we have a Baekje ship harboring in a land that once was ruled by a family identified, at least in their names or titles, as having come from or at least having ties with Baekje. This isn’t entirely surprising, as it wouldn’t have taken all that much effort for people to cross from one side to the other, and particularly during the period before there was a truly strong central government it is easy to see that there may have been lands in the archipelago that had ties to Baekje, just as we believe there were some lands on the peninsula that had ties to Yamato.
One more note before get to the heart of the matter is the title of the person who reported all these Baekje goings-on. Aston translates the title as the Viceroy of Tsukushi, and the kanji read “Dazai”, as in the “Dazaifu”, or government of the “Dazai”. There is kana that translates the title as Oho-mikoto-Mochi—the Great August Thing Holder, per Aston, who takes this as a translation, rather than a strict transliteration. This is the first time that this term, “Dazai” has popped up in the history, and it will appear more and more in the future. We know that, at least later, the Dazaifu was the Yamato court’s representative government in Kyuushuu. The position wasn’t new - it goes back to the various military governors sent there in previous reigns - but this is the first time that specific phrasing is used—and unfortunately we don’t even know much about who it was referring to. The position, however, would become an important part of the Yamato governing apparatus, as it provided an extension of the court’s power over Kyuushuu, which could otherwise have easily fallen under the sway of others, much as Iwai tried to do when he tried to ally with Silla and take Tsukushi by force. Given the importance of Kyuushuu as the entrypoint to the archipelago, it was in the Court’s best interest to keep it under their control.
Getting back to the ship with the Baekje priests on it: the passengers claimed they were on their way to Wu, or Kure—presumably headed to the Yangzi river region. Given the number of Buddhist monasteries in the hills around the Yangzi river, it is quite believable, though of course by this time the Wu dynasty was long gone. What they had not prepared for was the new Sui dynasty, as they said there was a civil war of some kind going on, and so they couldn’t land and were subsequently blown off course in a storm, eventually limping along to Ashigita harbor, where they presumably undertook rest and a chance to repair their vessels. It is unclear to me exactly what civil war they were referring to, and it may have just been a local conflict. There would be rebellions south of the Yangzi river a few years later, but no indication that it was this, just a bit out of context. We know that the Sui dynasty suffered—it wouldn’t last another decade before being dismantled and replaced by the Tang dynasty in about 618. There were also ongoing conflicts with Goguryeo and even the area of modern Vietnam, which were draining the Sui’s resources and could be related to all of these issues. If so, though, it is hard to see an exact correlation to the “civil war” mentioned in the text.
Given all this, two court nobles: Naniwa no Kishi no Tokomaro and Fumibito no Tatsu were sent to Kyuushuu to see what had happened, and, once they learned the truth, help send the visitors on their way. However, ten of the priests asked to stay in Yamato, and they were sent to be housed at the Soga family temple of Houkouji. As you may recall, 10 monks was the necessary number to hold a proper ordination ceremony, funnily enough.
In 610, another couple of monks showed up—this time from Goguryeo. They were actually sent, we are told, as “tribute”. We are told that one of them was well read—specifically that he knew the Five Classics—but also that he understood how to prepare various paints and pigments. A lot of paint and pigments were based on available materials as well as what was known at the time, and so it is understandable, to me, why you might have that as a noted and remarkable skill. We are also told that he made mills—likely a type of handmill. These can be easily used for helping to crush and blend medicines, but I suspect it could just as easily be used to crush the various ingredients for different pigments. A type of handmill, where you roll a wheel in a narrow channel, forward and back, is still in use today throughout Asia.
In 611, on the 5th day of the 5th month, the court went out to gather herbs. They assembled at the pond of Fujiwara—the pond of the wisteria field—and set out at sunrise. We are told that their clothing matched their official cap colors, which was based on their rank, so that would seem to indicate that they were dressed in their court outfits. In this case, though, they also had hair ornaments mad of gold, leopard’s tails, or birds. That leopard’s tail, assuming the description is accurate, is particularly interesting, as it would have had to have come from the continent.
This ritual gathering of herbs would be repeated on the 5th day of the 5th month of both 612 and 614. If that date seems familiar, you might be thinking of the modern holiday of Tango no Sekku, aka Kodomo no Hi. That is to say: Boy’s Day or the more gender neutral “Children’s Day”. It is part of a series of celebrations in Japan known today as “Golden Week”, when there are so many holidays crammed together that people get roughly a week off of work, meaning that a lot of travel tends to happen in that period. While the idea of “Boy’s Day” probably doesn’t come about until the Kamakura period, Tango no Sekku has long been one of the five seasonal festivals of the court, the Gosekku. These included New Year’s day; the third day of the third month, later to become the Doll Festival, or Girl’s Day; the seventh day of the seventh month, during Tanabata; and the 9th day of the 9th month. As you can see, that is 1/1, 3/3, 5/5, 7/7, and 9/9. Interestingly, they skipped over 11/11, possibly because that was in the winter time, based on the old calendar, and people were just trying to stay warm.
Early traditions of Tango no Sekku include women gathering irises to protect the home. That could connect to the practice, here, of “picking herbs” by the court, and indeed, many people connect the origins of Tango no Sekku back to this reign specifically because of these references, though there is very little said about what they were doing, other than picking herbs in their fancy outfits.
We are given a few more glimpses into the lives of the court in a few other entries. In 612, for instance, we have a banquet thrown for the high functionaries. This may have been a semi-regular occasion, but this particular incident was memorable for a couple of poems that were bandied back and forth between Soga no Umako and Kashikiya Hime. He toasted her, and she responded with a toast to the sons of Soga.
Later that year, they held a more somber event, as Kitashi Hime was re-interred. She was the sister to Soga no Umako, consort of Nunakura Futodamashiki no Ohokimi, aka Kimmei Tenno, and mother to both Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, and Kashikiya Hime, Suiko Tennou. She was re-buried with her husband at his tomb in Hinokuma. During this period, various nobles made speeches. Kicking the event off was Abe no Uchi no Omi no Tori, who made offerings to her spirit, including around 15,000 utensils and garments. Then the royal princes spoke, each according to rank, but we aren’t given just what they said. After that, Nakatomi no Miyatokoro no Muraji no Womaro gave the eulogy of the Oho-omi, presumably speaking on Umako’s behalf, though it isn’t exactly clear why, though Umako was certainly getting on in years. Then, Sakahibe no Omi no Marise delivered the written eulogies of the other families.
And here we get an interesting glimpse into court life as we see a report that both Nakatomi no Womaro and Sakahibe no Marise apparently delivered their speeches with great aplomb, and the people listening were quite appreciative. However, they did not look quite so fondly on the speechifying of Abe no Tori, and they said that he was less than skillful. And consider that—if you find public speaking to be something you dread, imagine if your entire reputation hung on ensuring that every word was executed properly. A single misstep or a bad day and suddenly you are recorded in the national history as having been just the worst. In fact, his political career seems to have tanked, as we don’t hear much more about him after that.
612 also saw more immigrants bringing more art and culture. The first was a man from Baekje. He did not look well—he had white circles under his eyes, we are told, possibly indicating ringworm or some other infection. It was so bad that the people on the ship with him were thinking about putting him off on an island to fend for himself. He protested that his looks were not contagious, and no different that the white patches of color you might see on horses or cattle. Moreover, he had a talent for painting figures and mountains. He drew figures of the legendary Mt. Sumeru, and of the Bridge of Wu, during the period of the Southern Courts, and the people were so taken by it that they forestalled tossing him overboard. He was eventually known as Michiko no Takumi, though more colloquially he was known as Shikomaro, which basically was a nickname calling him ugly, because judging people based on appearance was still totally a thing.
The other notable immigrant that year was also a man of Baekje, known to us as Mimachi, or perhaps Mimashi or Mimaji. He claimed to know the music and dancing of the Wu court—or at least some continental dynasty. He settled in Sakurawi and took on students who were basically forced to learn from him. As if a piano teacher appeared and all the children went to learn, but now it isn’t just your parents and their high expectations, but the very state telling you to do it. So… no pressure, I’m sure. Eventually, Manu no Obito no Deshi—whose name literally means “student” or “disciple”—and Imaki no Ayabito no Seibun learned the teachings and passed them down to others. This would appear to be the masked dances known as Gigaku.
If you know about early Japanese music and dance you may have heard of Gagaku, Bugaku, and Noh theater. Gagaku is the courtly music, with roots in apparently indigenous Japanese music as well as various continental sources, from the Korean peninsula all the way down to Southeast Asia. Indeed, the musical records we have in Japan are often the only remaining records of what some of the continental music of this time might have sounded like, even though the playing style and flourishes have changed over the centuries, and many scholars have used the repertoire of the Japanese court to help work backwards to try and recreate some of the continental music. The dances that you often see with Gagaku musical accompaniment are known as Bugaku, and most of that was codified in the latter years of the Heian era—about the 12th century. Then there is the famous masked theater known as Noh, which has its origins in a variety of traditions, going back to at least the 8th century and really brought together around the 14th century. All of these traditions, however, are preceded by Gigaku, this form of masked dance that came over in the 7th century, and claims its roots in the area of “Wu” rather than “Tang”, implying that it goes back to traditions of the southern courts of the Yangzi river region.
Gigaku spread along with the rest of continental culture, along with the spread of Buddhism and other such ideas. From what we can tell, it was a dominant form of music and dance for the court, and many of the masks that were used are preserved in temple storehouses such as the famous Shosoin at the Todaiji in Nara. However, as the centuries rolled by, Gigaku was eventually replaced at court by Bugaku style dances, though it continued to be practiced up through at least the 14th century. Unfortunately, I know of no Gigaku dances that survived into the modern day, and we are left with the elaborate masks, some illustrations of dancers, and a few descriptions of what it was like, but that seems to be it.
From what we can tell, Gigaku—also known as Kure-gaku, or Kure-no-utamai, meaning Music or Music and Dances of Wu—is first noted back in the reign of Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Kimmei Tennou, but it wasn’t until the reign of Kashikiya Hime that we actually see someone coming over and clearly imparting knowledge of the dances and music—Mimashi, mentioned above. We then see the dances mentioned at various temples, including Houryuuji, Toudaiji, and others. Of course, as with many such things, Shotoku Taishi is given credit for spreading Gigaku through the Buddhist temples, and the two do seem to have gone hand in hand.
We know a little bit about the dances from the masks and various writings. The masks are not random, and a collection of Gigaku masks will have generally the same set of characters. These characters appear to have been organized in a traditional order. A performance would start with a parade and a sutra reading—which I wonder if that was original or if it was added as they grew more connected to the Buddhist temple establishment. And then there was a lion dance, where a young cub would pacify an adult lion. Lion dances, in various forms, continue to be found throughout East Asia.
Then the characters come into play and there are various stories about, for example, the Duke of Wu, and people from the “Hu” Western Regions—that is to say the non-Han people in the Western part of what is now China and central Eurasia. Some of these performances appear to be serious, while others may have been humorous interludes, like when a demon assaults the character Rikishi using a man’s genitals while calling for the “Woman of Wu”. That brings to mind the later tradition of ai-kyougen; similarly humorous or lighthearted episodes acted out during Noh plays to help break up the dramatic tension.
Many of aspects of Gigaku would go on to influence the later styles of court music and dance. Bugaku is thought to have some of its origins in masked Gigaku dancers performing to the various styles of what became known as Gagaku music. There are also examples of some of the characters making their way into other theatrical traditions, such as Sarugaku and, eventually, Noh and even folk theater. These hints have been used to help artists reconstruct what Gigagku might have been like.
One of the key aspects of Gigaku is that for all they were telling stories, other than things like the recitation of the sutras, the action of the story appears to have been told strictly through pantomime in the dances. This was accompanied by the musicians, who played a variety of instruments during the performance that would provide the musical queues for the dancers-slash-actors. There was no dialogue, however, but the names of the various characters appear to have been well known, and based on the specifics of the masks one could tell who was who and what was going on. This is similar to how, in the west, there were often stock characters in things like the English Mummers plays or the Comedia dell’arte of the Italian city-states, though in Gigaku those characters would not speak at all, and their story would be conveyed simply through pantomime, music, and masks.
There have been attempts to reconstruct Gigaku. Notably there was an attempt in the 1980s, in coordination with a celebration of the anniversary of Todaiji, in Nara, and it appears that Tenri University may continue that tradition. There was also another revival by famed Kyougen actor Nomura Mannojo, uncle to another famous Kyougen actor turned movie star, Nomura Mansai. Mannojo called his style “Shingigaku”, which seems to be translated as either “True Gigaku” or “New Gigagku”, and he took that on tour to various countries. You can find an example of his performance from the Silk Road Theater at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in Washington, DC back in 2002, as well as elsewhere. It does appear that he’s changed things up just a little bit, however, based on his layout of the dances, but it is an interesting interpretation, nonetheless.
We may never truly know what Gigaku looked and sounded like, but it certainly had an impact on theatrical and musical traditions of Japan, and for that alone it perhaps deserves to be mentioned.
And I think we’ll stop right there, for now. There is more to get through, so we’ll certainly have a part two as we continue to look at events of this rein. There are stories of gods and omens. There is contact with an island off the southern coast of Kyuushuu. There are more trips to the Sui court. Much of that is coming. Until then, I’d like to thank you once again. I can hardly believe we reached one hundred episodes! And it comes just as we are about to close out the year.
As usual, I’ll plan for a recap episode over New Year’s, and then I’ll plan to get back into everything the episode after that, but this closes out the year. I hope everyone has a wonderful new year, however you celebrate and, as always, 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

Deal, William E. and Ruppert, Brian. (2015). A Cultural History of Japanese Buddhism. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies. ISBN: 978-1-405-16700-0.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 99: The Prince of the Upper Palace

December 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

14th century painting of various episodes in the life of Shotoku Taishi. The fantastical story is illustrated in contremporary clothing and armor, not necessarily the clothing of the Asuka or even Nara period. Photo by author, taken at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

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This episode we look again at the Crown Prince of Great Virtue, but try to look at some of his more historical alter egos and whether or not any of them might shed some light on the actual Prince.

The main image hall and pagoda of Hōryūji, the temple built on the site of Shōtoku Taishi’s Ikaruga Palace. Back in its day, the temple would have likely been painted bright red, white, and green. Photo by author.

Tenjūkoku mandala, housed in Chūgūji. It shows the Pure Land where Shōtoku Taishi went when he passed away. It is unclear which Pure Land, however (there are various ones described in different sutras).

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 99: The Prince of the Upper Palace.
This is the second episode focused on the famous Prince known as Prince Shōtoku Taishi. Last episode we went over the various stories that are told about this Prince in the various histories as well as some of the temple records. Of course, it is generally agreed that most, if perhaps not all, of the information on Prince Shōtoku Taishi, which is to say, the Crown Prince of Great Virtue, is at best exaggerated, and at worst is completely made up at a later time by people deliberately trying to appropriate his story. Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to tell what is pure fiction and what might be some semblance of reality, but we’ll give it a try as best we can.
I will say that there is a *lot* that has been written about Shōtoku Taishi and his alter egos, Prince Umayado, aka Prince Kamitsumiya, aka Toyotomimi no Mikoto. A lot more than I have time to truly delve into. Besides various sources in Japanese, one of, if not the, most extensive look at sources mentioning the Prince is probably by Dr. Hermann Bohner in the 1930s and 1940s—however, his work, which I am told is over a thousand pages in length, is also entirely in German. I’m not sure anything quite that extensive has been written in English. Furthermore, other works out there, like Michael Como’s own work, “Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition”, often speak more to what the stories of Shōtoku Taishi say about developments in Japanese culture over time, focusing on the Cult of Shōtoku and what it said about Japan in general rather than focusing on the individual. I am not going to have time to read all of the sources and condense them down for you, but I’m not sure that is exactly necessary. Just be aware that there is a lot of ink that has been spilled over Shōtoku Taishi in one way or another.
As for theories on the actual prince, they vary widely. Some say that there was, indeed, a powerful figure at court known as Prince Umayado or, alternatively, as the Prince of the Upper Chamber, and he may have even been the Crown Prince, in line to inherit the throne had he not tragically passed away before the death of the current sovereign, Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennō. Others suggest that the portrait we have is actually a composite—the work of many different individuals, all wrapped up in the guise of a single, powerful individual who instituted sweeping changes across the archipelago and single-handedly gave birth to the Japanese state. Of course, there are also those who accept the story as true—or at least as true as the rest of that period of history.
For my part, I believe I’m closer to the ideas proposed in 1999 by Ōyama Seichirō, in his book ‘Shōtoku Taishi no Tanjō’, who suggested that there likely was an actual Prince Umayado, but that his story was exaggerated by the compilers of the Nihon Shoki and by later groups promoting the Shōtoku cult.
By the way, when I mention the Shōtoku “cult” I want to be clear what I mean—cult in this instance is more like a cult of personality. It encompasses the various ideas that people held about the Prince, true or otherwise. However, it should be noted that until more recently it is unlikely that anyone would have claimed to have been a part of any kind of “cult” or group with specific, Shōtoku Taishi related beliefs. Rather, the Prince’s story was, to many of them, simply a fact, even as they consciously or unconsciously embellished the story. In fact, we often blame the compilers of the Nihon Shoki for adding to the Prince’s story, but it is just as likely that they were simply going off of other sources that also recorded these same things.
Given all of that, who was the real Prince Umayado?
We are told that Umayado’s name comes because his pregnant mother gave birth to him as she was wandering around during her pregnancy and suddenly delivered him in front of the office of the horse stables—the Umayado. He is also known as Prince Kamitsumiya, or the Prince of the Upper Palace. This was because, we are told, before he was made Crown Prince and given the Crown Prince’s quarters as his own, his father had installed him in the “Upper Hall” of the South Palace, in his own complex. The name Toyotomimi no Mikoto is less obvious, but more similar to the types of names we had seen in previous generations of sovereigns, and likely a kind of titular name, combining various accolades and titles together.
That last one gets to a tricky bit about Prince Umayado: Was he actually of Royal birth, and was he the son of a previous sovereign?
As noted last episode, we are told that Umayado’s father was Tachibana no Toyohi, himself the son of Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Niwa no Ohokimi, aka Kinmei Tennō, and Kitashi Hime, daughter of Soga no Iname. We’ve already noted how the Soga family really wormed their way into the royal line. Theoretically, sovereigns were supposed to come from a queen that was, herself, of royal blood. The previous exception to this was Iwa no Hime, daughter of Katsuraki no Sotsuhiko and wife to Ohosazaki no Ohokmi, aka Nintoku Tennō. However, that seems to have stopped being an issue since about the time of Ame Kunioshi’s father Wohodo no Ohokimi, aka Keitai Tennō. After all, the first two of his sons to succeed him to the throne were the sons of Menoko, herself a daughter of Owari no Muraji no Kusaka—not exactly a name boasting of royal lineage. To be fair, the Nihon Shoki only claimed that they were holding the throne for their more properly titled brother, Amekunioshi, so take that as you will.
Amekunioshi, married three of his own nieces—daughters of his brother, which may have been an attempt to smooth out some of the kinks in the royal line. He also married at least two—possibly three—daughters of Soga no Iname, and they produced several sovereigns. One of these, of course, is Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennō, but there was also Hatsusebe no Wakasazaki, aka Sushun Tennō. Finally there was Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennō, though one could argue that she held her place as much because she had been the consort—or even queen—to her step-brother, Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennō.
It should also be noted, though, that both Hatsusebe no Wakasazaki and Kashikiya Hime came to the throne during a period of political violence. There was the Soga and Mononobe conflict, a genuine fight for the throne which spilled out into the general public. This all reads as the results of Soga no Iname—and then, later, Soga no Umako—maneuvering to put the Soga family in power to rule the country. That they succeeded in getting two Soga relatives on the throne—even if Umako then assassinated Hatsusebe when he proved too difficult to control—would seem to indicate that the Soga gambit had been effective, and they had overcome the traditions that previously had been designed to limit who had direct access to the power of the throne. Of course, there are questions of just how old and how accurate that tradition was—for all we know, the previous “queens” had simply had their lineages updated to ensure that they were of proper royal birth—but I still think it is telling.
But how does this relate to Umayado?
Well, as I mentioned, his father was Tachibana no Toyohi. Just like Kashikiya Hime and Hatsusebe, he was also a son of Ame Kunioshi no Ohokimi and one of his Soga wives. In fact, it wouldn’t be surprising had Toyohi taken the throne, given who else did. However, I wonder if that ever actually happened. The Nihon Shoki only places him on the throne briefly—about two years—and during that time, there was still a lot of conflict going on. The idea that there had been a consensus and that Tachibana no Toyohi was chosen as the next Ohokimi already seems a bit questionable. Then there is also his supposed misasagi, or tomb. We are told that he was buried at Shinaga, and this tomb has been identified and is still known today, presumably. Given the records from then until now, while it is possible that the tomb was mistaken at some point over the intervening centuries, I would propose that its identification is probably fairly reliable, especially as it is also said to be the tomb of Prince Umayado, as well. However, there is a problem, and that is that the tomb is not a round keyhole shaped tomb as would be expected of a royal tomb up to that time. Instead, it is a square shaped tomb.
Why is this notable? Because the "imperial” tombs up through Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennō, and his son, Nunakura no Ohokimi, aka Bidatsu Tennō, are all round, keyhole shaped tombs; the zenpō-kōen, or flat font and round-backed kofun. Even through different dynasties, the shape and size of the kofun seem to hold true. However, that stops with Tachibana no Toyohi. His tomb is square shaped, which is much more similar to individuals other than the royal family. However, complicating matters somewhat, it isn’t just his tomb where we see this change. Suddenly we see a bunch of square tombs that are designated as royal tombs. These include the tombs of Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Yōmei Tennō; Hasebe no Wakasazaki, aka Sushun Tennō; and Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennō. All of their identified tombs seem to be square tombs, similar to the tomb identified with Soga no Umako, Ishi-butai kofun. So why the sudden switch?
It is not directly stated, but this may have been a part of all of the other changes in court and ritual that were happening. In succeeding generations we see eight-sided kofun, and even round kofun—and all for verified sovereigns. So it is entirely possible that it is at Youmei where the tradition of keyhole-shaped royal kofun ended.
But I am still rather skeptical about all of this. I wonder if the shape of Tachibana no Toyohi’s kofun indicates it was just the kofun for a powerful member of the Soga lineage, just like Umako’s kofun. However, I must admit, it doesn’t directly contradict the sources that say he was Tennō, since the following sovereigns are also recorded as having square-shaped tombs. Then again, there is a bit of a question on just about all of them as far as how much they reigned and what power they held, vice what power was in the hands of Soga no Umako. As for the succeeding generations, well, there are other shapes as well. For instance, there is an octagonal kofun, and an eight sided kofun would actually match up well with a growing belief in Buddhism, where eight is an extremely auspicious number—enough that people in some Asian countries will actually pay more for license plates or phone numbers with multiple 8s in the number, along with other auspicious digits.
And there’s another factor that might explain why they moved to a less complex kofun shape: I’ve mentioned in past episodes that the temple building craze of the early 600s really killed off kofun construction. We see resources that would have gone to venerating important figures, and building their tombs, the likely center of their ritual veneration, instead go to the building of temples. In many ways, temples became the better and more lasting memorial for any wealthy individual, especially since temples themselves could grow and change with the times, where as a giant mound of earth, cool as it is, was a bit hard to modify, let alone relocate. I also suspect that the change in various rituals also meant that the previous shape of the kofun, that round keyhole shape, may not have been as important in later periods. If we assume that shape had something to do with the focus of conducting regular rituals at the site, for which purpose certain families were actually employed in hereditary positions, then moving away from that shape would suggest, to me, that there was a change in the rituals as well. However, that change was coming much earlier than the temples, should we choose to believe the chronology given to us in the Nihon Shoki. So it while it explains, in broad strokes, the move away from kofun practice, it doesn’t satisfactorily explain everything that we are seeing at this period.
And that brings me back to my hesitation to say that Tachibana no Toyohi was ever a sovereign of Yamato. And the main thing about Tachibana no Toyohi’s ascension that gets to me is it all feels rather contrived, and there really isn’t much said about him. I can only think that this was done in order to make sure that Prince Umayado had the necessary pedigree for everything else that people were going to be saying about him. As awesome as he was, he wasn’t going to be nearly so incredible if he didn’t have a lineage which put him in line to inherit the throne. BUT, I could very easily be wrong, especially if some of our sources aren’t exactly in order. We’ve certainly seen other places where it appears that individuals were either raised up as sovereigns or possibly co-sovereigns, individuals who reigned at the same time, may have had their reigns massaged to conform with the desired narrative..
Which brings up another question: Was Umayado ever actually named as the Crown Prince? Was he truly in line to succeed Kashikiya Hime?
I’m not sure that is as black and white. As I’ve noted before, why would Kashikiya Hime have chosen him over other potential candidates? Even if his father wasn’t sovereign, he was still a royal prince of Soga lineage, but Kashikiya Hime also had her own children, at least according to the Chronicles. Where were they?
I’m not sure, but I am inclined to believe that Prince Umayado may have, indeed, been either the Crown Prince or in a position so close that it didn’t warrant a distinction. That said, it might be interesting to look through some of the early records, such as the Gankōji Garan Engi, and see just how he is referred to, there.
There are plenty of the stories about Prince Umayado that I believe we can take as true, even if only in part. I have no reason not to believe that he was an avid supporter of continental learning, including Buddhism and other teachings. That was all new and exciting, and with the direction that the Yamato state was tacking at the time it would have been useful and provided the Prince some clout and notoriety. It is also quite possible that he penned one or more commentaries on various sutras, though how good or insightful it would have been I have no idea, and whether it was his own words or if he perhaps patronized a temple to help write them for him, I couldn’t say. I don’t know that there is anything definitive, one way or the other. I might even go so far as to suggest that he played a role in helping to lay out the seventeen article constitution and championed a version of the continental rank system, but I doubt he just made it up himself out of whole-cloth. There were no doubt more than a few scribes by this point who had read various works from the continent and were able to help pull the various concepts of good government together. I doubt he was the one putting pen to paper for all of it, but who knows.
Perhaps, though, the most likely case for his existence comes in the form of the temple, Hōryūji, said to have been built on the site of his former estate, and the woven mandala said to have been commissioned by one of his own consorts. These are compelling to me because they both physically exist, even if in a diminished state. For Hōryūji we can look at the archaeological evidence, as well as any extant buildings or images. For the Tenjukoku Shūchō Mandala, though, we only have some of the original fragments, along with some fragments of a later copy, but we also have copies of the inscription that was on the mandala. It is possible that the transcription we have is somehow not correct, but that would be odd since the object was on display for people to see and remained intact through at least the Kamakura period, one assumes, since that’s when they made a copy of it. Let’s examine both of these a little more in depth.
Hōryūji temple is said to have been built by Prince Umayado, on his estate, but it was supposedly built for his father, Tachibana no Toyohi. In fact, Hōryūji was apparently supposed to be *his* temple. Tachibana no Toyohi, suffering from illness, is said to have vowed to build a temple, but he died before he could complete it. Prince Umayado’s eventual work to build Hōryūji is said to have been an act of filial piety as much as it was one of Buddhist piety, as it was dedicated, originally to Yakushi Nyōrai, a Buddha associated with healing illness, and it was built for his father, the Great King, Tachibana no Toyohi.
We see several times the idea of building a temple on a noble family’s personal compound. Soga no Iname is the first to convert his house, or some portion, and Soga no Umako eventually succeeds with Hōkōji, aka Asukadera. It makes sense that Hōryūji was also built on land donated by an elite member of Society, and everything points to it being Prince Umayado. In fact, it would be rather odd to build it on land that wasn’t already built up in some way. Even Shitennōji was built, we are told, on a compound that formerly belonged to the Mononobe—a rather large middle finger, or perhaps an inverted V, extended by the Soga to those whom history labelled as the anti-Buddhist faction of the early court. Nearby Chūgūji, literally the “Middle Palace Temple” was, we are told, built on the site of Prince Umayado’s mother’s home. I’m not sure if we can verify that entirely, but the fact that it is known as the “Middle Palace Temple” suggests some connection to an elite’s compound and “palace”—the Naka tsu Miya to Umayado’s Kami tsu Miya, perhaps. The two were close and became only closer with time, though they did retain their own characteristics.
And so Hōryūji was quite likely built on the site of someone’s palace, and if it wasn’t the Prince we know as Umayado, then who was it? At the very least we have some person that may be at least a part of the legion that makes up the legend of Shōtoku Taishi.
As for the Tenjukoku Shūchō Mandala, for that we have the inscription from the mandala itself. We are told that Tachibana no Iratsume asked Kashikiya Hime to commission it for her departed husband, Prince Toyotomimi. As far as I can tell, this inscription, found in the Jōgū-Shōtoku Ho’o Teisetsu, a biography of Shōtoku Taishi, is considered an accurate transcription of the four hundred or so characters that were on the original curtain.
If that is the case, then we have an inscription from shortly after his death attesting to the existence of a Prince Toyotomimi, and it even gives part of his lineage, including mention of Tachibana no Toyohi, whom we are told was, indeed, a sovereign, though we don’t know when or for how long. So that would seem to support the assertions in the Nihon Shoki about Tachibana no Toyohi’s status.
The biography, at least as it comes down to us, was likely compiled sometime in the 10th or 11th century, which makes a lot of its information suspect, but I generally think we can trust the transcription from the mandala. Afterall, we have pretty good evidence for the artifact still existing when it was compiled. The fact that the artifact seems pretty clearly made in the Asuka period—so in the 7th century, not soon after Toyotomimi’s death—further adds to the reliability. That isn’t to say they didn’t pick and choose what they were going to report in the biography itself, but, for me, there is little reason to doubt this inscription is what was on the actual mandala.
On the other hand, we still don’t have a lot of information about Tachibana no Toyohi. He came to the throne, other things largely happened around him, and then he died of illness.
So perhaps Tachibana was a short-lived sovereign after all. I’m honestly still on the fence about it, but the more I read, the more I come around to the idea, though that still doesn’t explain how his son ended up being remembered so well.
All in all, I suspect that most of Shōtoku Taishi’s story is rooted in truths and facts about this era. He may, indeed, have been the Crown Prince, or at least a very influential one. He likely was on top of the craze in Buddhist and Continental learning. He may have even played some role in helping to govern the country. Still, how did he come to outshine the others who had almost equal claims on all of this change?
For one thing, there was Kashikiya Hime. She was smart, capable, and the one actually seated on the throne. Unfortunately, I suspect that she had two major impediments to taking on the mantle that Shōtoku Taishi donned. For one thing, she was a woman. Unfortunately, along with continental ideas would come an increase in continental misogyny , though it would take some time to reach the same level, and there would still be female sovereigns ruling alongside male sovereigns for some time. However, she also was the sovereign, and that likely meant that her reputation, such as it was, was caught up in the push and pull of court politics. Even within the royal family there were different factions and different people aiming for the throne, and so she may not have had universal support for sainthood. This may not have been as much of a problem had she, herself, like Prince Umayado, passed away early and young, but she lived and reigned a good long while.
And then, besides her, there is the other major mover and shaker of the period, Soga no Umako. Of just about anyone other than the sovereign, Soga no Umako seems to have been the best positioned to provide the kind of guidance, patronage, and more that was likely making into reality many of the things for which Shōtoku Taishi received credit, including his own temple of Hokoji. Soga no Umako had an almost bigger problem than Kashikiya Hime, however. He had led the forces against the Mononobe and their allies, and many of those allies would eventually lick their wounds and come back to power. Even the Mononobe were still around, if not guiding the government. Furthermore, listeners who have been reading ahead in the story will likewise already know that it was the Fujiwara family that eventually would control the court for centuries. In fact, for many students of Japanese history, the Soga are not portrayed as paragons of virtue who helped introduce Buddhism to Japan, but rather as a greedy family that didn’t know their place and who went beyond the bounds of what we considered acceptable behavior. As such, I doubt Soga no Umako was in much of a position to be venerated by large swaths of the population.
In the end, it was probably the fact that he died early that allowed Prince Toyotomimi, aka Prince Umayado, to become the venerated figure he is, today. To quote eminent Gotham lawyer, Harvey Dent: “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Sure enough, Prince Umayado died at a point where likely the public could still imagine all of the good that he could have done. Meanwhile both Kashikiya Hime and Umako had been through some stuff, and they had done what they needed to gain and maintain power. It may have been a recipe for their success, but it didn’t necessarily make them universally beloved. I suspect that, in the end, the lack of information about Prince Umayado, along with some key bits of likely true information, allowed people to build him up into what they needed him to be—a culture hero that could embody the ideals that Yamato was adopting and adapting from the continent. He had the prestige—a royal prince and, perhaps even a Crown Prince. And he was involved with this new culture that was being imported and updated.
Of course, this is largely speculation. In the end, it is hard to know what are the true facts around this legendary figure. I think the best we can really say is that there likely was an ur-Shōtoku, an original Prince, who may or may not have been known as either Prince Umayado, Prince Kamitsumiya, or even Prince Toyotomimi—and one or more of those names may even have belonged to different people. And so we are largely left with a question and with the legend, but in that legend, there is a plethora of information, if not about the actual human being, then about the changes that were happening in the Yamato court and in society as a whole. Regardless of all of the exact details, the 7th century would be extremely critical in the history of Yamato, setting the path for the future. One which we will be diving into, episode by episode, as we continue our trek through the histories.
But for now, I think I’ll leave you here. For those listening to this when it comes out, I wish you the best in this holiday-filled season, from about November to February, whatever you may be celebrating. And if you feel like giving, I hope you’ll forgive me if I reiterate that I do this out of love of the history, and so we pay for all of the expenses ourselves, so any donations that people like to throw our way are always appreciated. However, first and foremost, please take care of yourselves and those around you.
And so, until next time, then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. Again, if you do like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need this season 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

Asuka, Sango (2015). The halo of golden light : imperial authority and Buddhist ritual in Heian Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3986-4.
Deal, William E. and Ruppert, Brian. (2015). A Cultural History of Japanese Buddhism. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies. ISBN: 978-1-405-16700-0.
Kazuhiko, Y., 吉田一彦, & Swanson, P. L. (2015). The Credibility of the Gangōji engi. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, 42(1), 89–107. http://www.jstor.org/stable/43551912
McCallum, Donald F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Archaeology, Architecture, and Icons of Seventh-Century Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3114-1
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition. ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Pradel, C. (2008). Shōkō Mandara and the Cult of Prince Shōtoku in the Kamakura Period. Artibus Asiae, 68(2), 215–246. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40599600
Matsuo, K. (13 Dec. 2007). A History of Japanese Buddhism. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9781905246410.i-280
Deal, William (1999). Hagiography and History: The Image of Prince Shōtoku. Religions of Japan in practice. Princeton University Press. ISBN0691057893
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Moran, S. F. (1958). The Statue of Miroku Bosatsu of Chūgūji: A Detailed Study. Artibus Asiae, 21(3/4), 179–203. https://doi.org/10.2307/3248882

Episode 98: The Legend of Shotoku Taishi

November 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

14th century image of Shotoku Taishi at age 16, praying for the recovery of his father, Tachibana no Tohoyi, from illness. Photo by author, taken at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

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This episode we start to look at Shōtoku Taishi, the Crown Prince of Great Virtue. He is a legendary figure, and his story is probably an amalgamation of several stories put together. That said, determining the story of the real prince, vice the legend, is a task that can cause any scholar pause. Here we’ll mainly look at the narrative surrounding him and try to get a sense of these stories.

Timeline of Shōtoku Taishi’s Life

574 - Born

593 - Umayado was made Crown Prince [Taishi]

593 - Umayado's father, Tachibana no Toyohi, was removed and re-interred in the tomb of Shinaga, in Kawachi

593 - Building of Shitennouji started

594 - Kashikiya Hime instructed Umayado and Umako to promote Buddhism

595 - Hye-cha (Eiji) arrives from Goguryeo and becomes Umayado's teacher

596 - Hōkōji is "finished"

601 - Umayado begins construction of the Ikaruga Palace

603, 2/4 - Kashikiya Hime consults with Umako and Umayado on what to do after the death of Prince Kume, who was going to lead an expedition to "free" Nimna

603, 11/1 - Umayado has a Buddhsit image and offers it to Hata no Miyatsuko no Kawakatsu to worship. Kawakatsu founds Kōryūji in Yamashiro

603, 11th month - Umayado gets permission to commission shields, quivers, and banners as temple offerings

604 - Umayado establishes the cap ranks and the 17 Article Constitution

605, 4/1 - Kashikiya Hime had Umayado, Umako, and all of the the ministers take a vow and then commissioned an embroidered and a copper (bronze?) image of the Buddha [which was placed in Asukadera]

605, 7/1 - Umayado commands all of the ministers to wear the "Hirahi" outer garment

605, 10th month - Umayado took up residence at Ikaruga

606, 7th month - Kashikiya Hime asked Umayado to lecture on the "Shōman" sutra, which he did over 3 days. Later in that same year he lectured on the Lotus Sutra, and received 100 cho of rice paddies to support a temple on his property at Ikaruga—aka Hōryūji

607, 2/15 - Umayado and all of the ministers were ordered to worship the kami of Heaven and Earth

613 - Umayado writes the Gangōji Garan Engi

613 - Umayado journeys to Katawoka and encounters a starving man

620 - Umayado writes the "Kūjiki" (supposedly)

621 - Umayado dies, he is buried in the Shinaga Misasagi (with his father)

624 - Inabe Tachibana no Iratsume commissioned a member of the Hata to make a tapestry (Tenjūkoku Mandala) in honor of her husband

One of the two Miroku, or Maitreya, statues at Kōryūji, in modern Kyōto. A National Treasure, thought to be the statue given by Shōtoku Taishi to Hata no Kawakatsu. Public domain photo from Wikimedia Commons.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 98: The Legend of Shotoku Taishi.
If you’ve been following along with this podcast, the name Shotoku Taishi should be familiar, as we’ve referenced him several times over the course of the past episodes. He’s more broadly famous as a semi-legendary figure in Japanese history—while the current period, that is the end of the 6th and early 7th centuries, is fairly well documented with clear, historic events, , the position of Crown Prince Shotoku is often questioned, and with good reason. The legends and history surrounding him are blended in such a way that it is often to tell what is actually reliable history, vice merely legend. Indeed, last episode we covered how Michael Como and others have talked about the “Cult” of Shotoku Taishi in Japanese Buddhism,. By this, we are referring to the beliefs surrounding Shotoku Taishi, including the legends, but also, eventually various rituals where he, himself, was seen as a Boddhisatva or Buddha figure—Japan’s first Buddhist saint. The beliefs surrounding him continued to be propagated through various temple records and miraculous stories and histories, which became only more numerous with time. We also find slightly different traditions that spring up around different temples and with the involvement of different families of different ethnic descent.
Honestly, I should probably have saved this for two more episodes, when we hit episode 100,—someone like Shotoku Taishi probably deserves a special place in any historical survey. Even if the majority of the information about him is legendary, there is no denying the imprint that this legend had on the course of Japanese history. At the same time, I don’t want to follow in the footsteps of others who deliberately over-emphasized the Prince’s role. So I’ll try to thread that needle here, because I don’t think we can get away without addressing something, and we will no doubt revisit this information more than a few times in the coming centuries, if not later.
So, my approach is that we’ll first take a look at the legends, and then, next episode, at the man behind them—such as we might be able to discern. The problems with the kind of hagiographic material surrounding someone like Shotoku Taishi is that it can become extremely hard to dig into the actual truth of the matter. After all, hagiographies are, by definition, about the lives of saints, and as such prone to exaggeration due to the stories told by True Believers.For Americans, one might think back to stories of our own first President, George Washington. Think about all of the things people “know” about him: from his wooden teeth and chopping down a cherry tree, to his reputation as a great general who won many battles. Many of those things are false or at least exaggerated, much as the painting of him crossing the Delaware makes for a much more majestic and patriotic image than was likely the case when it actually happened. And this is a famous person from less than three centuries ago, where we have copious independent records for historians to comb through to find the truth. But these legends persist, and often we find them comforting, heart-warming, or they simply add to the excitement. The idea that people are just, well, people doesn’t garner nearly as much interest.
These legends serve a purpose, though. They aren’t merely comforting, but they actually help us to tell stories about ourselves—about who we are and who we want to be. These stories often worm their way into society, and are passed down to our children. Through these stories we help create a common image that defines a common cultural identity. Different people who have never met can still see themselves as part of this culture through these cultural imaginaries. This is one of the reasons that these stories, at this point in history, are so fascinating, because the common image of what it meant to be a person of Wa, or even Yamato, was changing. Foreign ideas and concepts were coming in, and figures like Shotoku Taishi became the perfect vehicle to help tell the stories that would help localize a lot of those concepts.
At the same timethis kind of legendary treatment also feeds in to what has been called the “great man” approach to history, which focuses on the impact that single individuals had on historical trends. While this absolutely happens, many of the trends and great movements are rarely the result of a single person and their force of will—despite what anime might teach you. Certainly there are people who are present at turning points in history, and have the ability to help shape the direction that change might take, but often they themselves are products of a complex web of cultural and societal influence and change. They often make the story much easier to tell, resulting in what Terry Pratchett referred to as “lies to children”. Realistically, the change that was happening, and even the imagining of a new cultural identity, didn’t occur all at once, by a single individual. Instead, there were multiple stories, multiple narratives, and multiple imaginings that were going on, all at the same time. Whether consciously or not, these different stories demonstrate different ways of conceptualizing the common culture. Then, with the compilation of things like the Nihon Shoki, the Chroniclers chose those stories that fit the narrative they wanted to tell about the nation and about the royal line. Still, they often pulled stories from different traditions, which is why they don’t always line up exactly, but which also helps us to see some of the competing views of identity in the ancient past.
The mythmaking and imagining didn’t stop there, however. Thesehero stories, when treated as historical fact, can also be used in more sinister ways, and they’ve been actively employed and even updated throughout history, for a variety of purposes. We’ve talked about how nationalist narratives leaned hard on the legends of “Empress Jingu” to support Japan’s involvement with and eventual invasion of the Korean peninsula in the early 20th century. As for Shotoku Taishi, he has often been one of the figures held up as the father of the Japanese nation, and an important legend in the myths supporting the special character and longevity of the imperial line.
In modern scholarship, a line is often drawn between the historical prince—whoever that might have actually been—and this mythical person that the stories turned him into—the Shotoku Taishi. Most of the works exhorting the myth refer to him by this name, whereas those attempting to look at the historical man often use one of his other names—either Prince Umayado, the Prince of the Stable Door, or Prince Kamitsumiya, the Prince of the Upper Palace. I’ve been generally trying to keep to this, using Umayado for the historical personage and Shotoku Taishi for the myth, though it can be hard to determine just what is what.
Modern attempts to use the legend of Shotoku Taishi to prop up the state and the royal line are nothing new. The stories of Shotoku Taishi have lived on in Japanese history since the first Chronicles. A great example of this comes from the 14th century Jinnou Shoutouki, Kitabatake Chikafusa’s attempt to provide an historical overview of the Imperial line—and thus prove Japan’s unique position in the world. They say the first draft was written from memory, with only an outline of the imperial lineage to assist him, though no doubt later he was able to reference some materials. His outline, while perhaps not entirely accurate—we’ve already noted in previous episodes where his dates and facts didn’t align with the 8th century histories—is almost that much better for demonstrating the kind of beliefs that were held about these legends.
According to the histories, Shotoku Taishi was the son of Tachibana no Toyohi and Anahobe no Hashihito. Anahobe, who would eventually be known as the sovereign Youmei Tennou, was, himself the son of Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niwa, aka Kimmei Tennou, and Kitashi Hime, daughter of Soga no Iname. That means his father was brother to Kashikiya Hime, making Shotoku Taishi her nephew, while Soga no Umako was his grand uncle.
Of his birth in about 573 it is said, and here I’ll use Paul Varley’s translation of the Jinnou Shoutouki, with a few liberties for clarity:
“Many wonderous omens accompanied this prince’s birth as signs that he was no ordinary person. At the time he was born, Prince Umayado’s hands were clasped together; and at age two he turned toward the east and, while intoning the name of the Buddha, opened his hands to reveal a relic of the Buddha. Without a doubt, this prince was the avatar of a deity who came to earth in order to spread Buddhist Law. The relic is now worshipped at Houryuuji in Yamato.”
Later, in the reign of Kimmei: “Oho-muraji Yuge no Moriya opposed the emperor’s efforts [to disseminate Buddhism] and finally turned to rebellion. Prince Umayado and Oho-omi Soga no Umako joined together and killed Moriya, thus making possible the spread of the Buddhist Law.”
During Sushun’s reign, “Emperor Sushun revealed signs in his physiognomy that he would suffer an unnatural death and was duly cautioned by Prince Umayado.” As you may recall, he was assassinated at the behest of Soga no Umako.
Finally, during the reign of Suiko: “Prince Umayado was made crown prince and, with the additional title of regent, was also entrusted with administration of the many affairs of court government. Although crown princes in the past governed in the absence of sovereigns from the capital, such periods of governance were temporary. Prince Umayado, on the other hand, truly ruled the country.
“Because Crown Prince Umayado possessed great virtue (shoutoku), the people revered him as they would an emperor, who is like the sun, and looked up to his virtue as they would to the clouds on high. Before he became crown prince, Umayado had destroyed the rebel minister Moriya, thus opening the way to the dissemination of the Buddhist Law in our country. After he assumed administration of the government at court, the three treasures were revered and the True Law of Buddhism (shoubou) was propagated with the same vigor as during Shakya’s own time.
“Prince Umayado had superhuman faculties, and when he donned priestly robes and expounded on the sutras, flowers showered down from heaven, light shone forth from his forehead, and the earth trembled. Since these were all signs similar to those manifested when the Buddha preached the Lotus Sutra, the empress and the ministers at court worshipped Umayado as though he were a Buddha.
“Prince Umayado built temples in more than forty places. And in a country where the people had from ancient times been of a simple nature and had lived entirely without rules, he instituted a cap-ranking system… [and] he compiled and presented to the throne a constitution of seventeen articles. In compiling the constitution, Prince Umayado delved deeply into the profound ways of both the inner (Buddhist) and outer (Confucian and Taoist) texts and presented their essences. Overjoyed, the empress issued the constitution to the country.
“In 621, Prince Umayado died at the age of forty-nine. The empress and the people of the country were overwhelmed with grief and mourned for him as they would for a parent. Umayado had been expected to succeed to the throne, but—since he was an avatar of the Buddha—there was no doubt some profound reason why he died before the empress. He was given the posthumous name of Shoutoku.”
This does a pretty good job of laying out the myth of Shotoku Taishi—with “Shotoku” meaning “Great Virtue” and “Taishi” meaning “Crown Prince”. At the same time, it is clearly mythical in nature. After all, he was supposedly born with relics of the Buddha in his clasped hands, which he didn’t unclasp until he was two years old. And then everything big that happens, he seems to be at the center of. He is credited with the defeat of Mononobe no Moriya, despite his young age, he is said to have built forty temples, and he instituted the rank system and founded the country with the first constitution. They do everything except name him an emperor—Tennou—in his own right. Heck, he’s even an incarnation of the Buddha. He was a triple threat: a Buddha, a Sage, and the Sovereign.
From here, we are mostly going to look at the stories from the Nihon Shoki or from other 8th century sources, but as I said, these are chock-ful of later additions. Still, it can be helpful to understand that the Nihon Shoki is just as infected with this mythical narrative. In fact, much of what Chikafusa was pulling from is accurate, at least according to the Chronicles. There they say that Shotoku Taishi could speak as soon as he was born, and as an adult he could listen to ten different legal cases at the same time and decide all of them without making any mistakes. He studied the Buddhist and Confucian classics and became proficient in them.
We don’t know exactly when Shotoku Taishi was born, but Chikafusa put it around a date that would equate, for us, to about 574. Beyond being born with a relic between his hands, we aren’t given a lot about his early life in the Nihon Shoki, but that didn’t stop later authors from filling in some of the gaps. One example is the story about the priest, Nichira, recognizing the precocious Buddha nature of the young Shotoku Taishi when the latter was only eight years old—so maybe in the early 580s. We talked about Nichira back in episode 89. He was said to be from Yamato, though his name almost seems like he’s from the Korean peninsula, and he was deeply involved in some of the cross-strait politicking of the time. At the same time, he had what I can only describe as “superpowers”, if we are to believe the accounts. He was apparently able to radiate light, and that light shone back from Shotoku Taishi, indicating his Buddha nature.
Of course, that story comes to us through the 12th century Konjaku Monogatari, so who knows when, exactly, it originated, though Nichira himself is present in the Nihon Shoki.
Speaking of which, we also have a story from 587, during the Soga-Mononobe War, which we covered in Episode 91. As a young man, Prince Shotoku Taishi went to battle with Soga no Umako, and he is said to have prayed to the four heavenly kings, the Shitenno, from the Golden Light Sutra, and they had helped the pro-Buddhist—which is to say the Soga—forces defeat the Mononobe and their allies.
As an adult, he was made Crown Prince in 593, and he was given quarters in the Eastern Palace, the traditional quarters of the heir apparent. From there we are told that he “discharged the duties of sovereign, being associated with Kashikiya Hime in the management of all matters of administration.” This might actually be true, to some extent, but taken together with everything else it fits in with the fantastical legends. It certainly bolsters the claim that he was as much a secular authority as he was a religious one, which would later prop up ideas that he was a sage king or that he was a “wheel turning sovereign”, to use the Buddhist terminology.
Speaking of his palace—Shotoku Taishi is often referred to by one of the early palaces where he resided, Kamitsumiya, the Upper Palace. In fact, he is often just called Prince Kamitsumiya, and even his Heian era biography uses the term “Jouguu”, another reading of “Upper Palace”, and is thus known in abbreviated form as the Jouguuki. However, he eventually wanted to have something of his own, and in 601 he began work on a Palace in the area of Ikaruga.
The choice of Ikaruga is interesting. Kashikiya Hime is said to have lived in the Toyoura Palace, and later the Woharida Palace, both thought to be near the house of Soga no Umako in the area of modern Asuka, along the Asuka river. Ikaruga, however, is about a four and a half hour walk to the north, on the other side of the Nara basin. That would have certainly been doable, but it puts quite the distance between Shotoku Taishi and the nominal seat of power, especially if he is assisting Kashikiya Hime’s rule.
It would, however, have put him close to his mother, Anahobe no Hashihito, as she apparently had a palace out near there, and that may have been the reason for his own palace to have been located up there.
Of course, Shotoku Taishi is credited with basically anything that happens in this period, regardless of if he is clearly mentioned in the Nihon Shoki or not, so we have to wonder about a lot of that. He is said to have instituted the cap-rank system, he developed the 17 article constitution, and he initiated contact with the Sui dynasty—see episodes 95 and 96.
He is attributed with really kicking off a temple building boom in the Asuka period. These include Shitennouji, Houryuuji, Houkouji—aka Asukadera—, and Kouryuuji. Later he is said to have also inspired the building of Daianji, the largest Buddhist temple in the archipelago at its completion.
We talked a bit about Asukadera and Shitennouji last episode, and how Shotoku Taishi and Soga no Umako were exhorted to spread Buddhism around the archipelago. Both are attributed to Shotoku Taishi in some way—though Asukadera has much stronger ties to Soga no Umako, based on the evidence. We haven’t yet mentioned Kouryuuji, but it is also important. It is said that Shotoku Taishi acquired a statue of Miroku, aka Maitreya, the future Buddha, and he started asking amongst the noble houses of Yamato if there was anyone who wanted to build a temple to it. He was taken up on his offer by Hata no Kawakatsu, who built the temple of Kouryuuji in his home territory.
As we discussed before, back in episode 63, the Hata family had a base of operations around modern Kyoto, and the temple of Kouryuuji is still there, in the Uzumasa district, aka the district of the Great Hata. This is an easy trip out of Kyoto, out towards Arashiyama, and well worth a visit. The buildings have burned down and been rebuilt numerous times, but it preserves two Miroku statues from the Asuka period. One of them in particular, known as the houkan miroku, is thought to have been imported from the Korean peninsula, and both are considered national treasures, along with many others. In fact, if you’ve seen any works on Japanese Buddhist images, you’ve probably seen this particular one, in a thoughtful pose, with one leg up, elbow on his knee, hand up to his chin. The Hata were a powerful family in that region, and we’ll see more of them, later in the story, but here we can see that they’ve made a clear connection to Shotoku Taishi, the saintly founder of the nation.
That said, as far as connections to Shotoku Taishi go, all of these other temples are beat out by Houryuuji. We are told that Houryuuji was founded in 606, when Shotoku Taishi gave a lecture on the Lotus Sutra, one of the most influential sutras in Mahayana Buddhism. It is said that he did so well he was rewarded with 100 cho of rice paddies to support a temple at his property in Ikaruga. That temple is Houryuuji temple.
Houryuuji is incredible, and if you ever get a chance to see it you absolutely should. As I noted last episode, it has the oldest extant wooden building in the world, and it is a treasure trove of art history from this era, even though it suffered its own fires and other problems. While many of the buildings have been reconstructed, it still has the main image hall, or kondou, dating back about 1300 years, probably last built around 711 CE.
You don’t have to go to Houryuuji to see all of the treasures, however—many are on display in a special permanent exhibition in the Japanese National Museum in modern Tokyo. However, there’s nothing quite like the feeling you get walking around the temple grounds, which were relocated early on a bit to the northwest of the original location.
This temple includes several ancient Buddha images, including one that, quite notably, is said to have been built based on the proportions of Shotoku Taishi himself. We know this because they tell us in an inscription on the back of the image. That inscription refers to Shotoku Taishi as a prince and also as a Dharma ruler.
The exact style of Buddhism practiced at the temple has differed over the years. For a time it was Sanron shu, but for a long time it was part of the Hossou Sect until, in the 1950s, it broke away as the head of a sect known as the Shotoku sect, or Shotoku-shu, which is its modern affiliation.
As noted, this temple is said to have been built on land from Shotoku Taishi’s own Ikaruga Palace, and one might think that it was always the center of the beliefs and worship surrounding Shotoku Taishi himself. And that may have been the case if tragedy hadn’t struck in 670, when lightning struck and all of the buildings burnt down. I’m sure we’ll cover that when we get to it, but one of the apparent results was that Houryuuji was in a rebuilding phase for what seems to be some 30 to 40 years, and that was likely the time that many of the stories about Shotoku Taishi that would be included in the Chronicles were being solidified, and so we don’t have as much in the Nihon Shoki as one might otherwise imagine.
As we mentioned, Shotoku Taishi was not just some prince spending money on temple projects, and as part of building on his Buddhist bona fides, we are also told that he was quite learned. In 595, the Buddhist Priest Hye-cha, or Eiji, in Japanese, came over from Goguryeo and we are told that he became Shotoku Taishi’s teacher. Of course, Shotoku Taishi is already said to have known quite a bit—he was born with Buddhist relics, his Buddha nature was obvious to Nichira, and he knew enough to be able to pray to the Four Heavenly Kings for victory, not to mention all the temples he started. Nonetheless, it was under Eiji where he seems to have undertaken his most serious study of Buddhism, and their connection is emphasized in stories both from the Nihon Shoki and from other material. For instance, they are mentioned together in surviving sections of the Iyo Fudoki, submitted in 715, where they are said to have traveled to the land of Iyo, on the island of Shikoku, reacting to it kind of like a pair of ancient tourist buddies. Although Eiji was his teacher, in many ways they are portrayed as equals.
Shotoku Taishi learned a great deal, and the Nihon Shoki notes at least two instances where he gave lectures on the sutras. One of those was a 606 lecture on the Lotus Sutra, whereby he raised the funds for Houryuuji, but earlier in that same year he is said to have given a lecture regarding the Shouman, or Srimaladevi, sutra. He gave it at the behest of Kashikiya Hime, and we are told that he was able to expound upon it over the course of three days.
These lectures are not all. There are three surviving sutra commentaries that are all attributed to Shotoku Taishi. One is on the Shouman sutra, while another is on the Lotus Sutra. The third is on the Yuima, or Vimalakirti, Sutra. These are thought to have been completed in 611, 615, and 613, respectively. Of them, only the Lotus sutra commentary remains in manuscript form, while the others exist only from later copies. Together they are known as the Sangyou Gisho. The actual authorship is not entirely certain, but they have been associated with Shotoku Taishi since at least 747, and there are corroborating accounts in some of the Shousouin documents of Toudaiji, in Nara, as well.
In addition to those commentaries, Shotoku Taishi, who apparently had copious amounts of time, is also said to have written the first historical account of the era. In fact, the Sendai Kuji Hongi—or just the Kuujiki—is said to have been written by him, and the Kojiki is related to his work as well. This is why both the Kuujiki and the Kojiki end with the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, since Shotoku would not have been able to write about anything after his death.
While the Kojiki stopped providing juicy historical details far earlier than Shotoku’s time, it continued to provide lineage information up until this reign—until the time of Shotoku Taishi. In the case of the Kuujiki, however, we have some other problems with the hypothesis that he wrote it. Namely, the issue that the Sendai Kuji Hongi seems extremely obsessed with the lineages of the Mononobe and Owari clans, which seems a rather odd flex if it had been written by Shotoku Taishi, who had helped overthrow the Mononobe, ostensibly because they were Anti-Buddhist.
There are some who suggest that all of these Chronicles, including the Nihon Shoki, may have included older works that are no longer extant, including the text said to have been penned—or at least commissioned—by Shotoku Taishi, or at least during his era. To be more specific, the Nihon Shoki itself claims that he drew up a history of the sovereigns, a history of the country, as well as the original record of the Omi, the Muraji, the Tomo no Miyatsuko, the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the 180 Be, and other Free subjects who did not fit into one of the other categories.
Curiously this was in the year 620—the 28th year of Kashikiya Hime’s reign. That’s exactly 100 years prior to the completion of the Nihon Shoki, in 720: a curious date, but perhaps simply coincidence, since the entry immediately following this is the talk of Shotoku Taishi’s death in the following year: 621, on the 5th day of the 2nd month. This conveniently means that he would have recorded everything up to his death… and presumably any information after that was tacked on at a later point.
As for how he died, we are told that Prince Shotoku died in his sleep in the middle of the night in the palace in Ikaruga. The Nihon Shoki describes how the entire nation mourned for him. The Princes and the Omi, as well as all of the other people of the realm all mourned. The elderly felt as though they had lost a child, whilst the young felt as if they had lost a parent. The taste of food turned to ash in their mouths, and the roads were filled with the sound of wailing. Farmers stopped working, and women stopped pounding the mortar and pestle.
They all said: “The Sun and Moon have lost their brightness; heaven and earth have crumbled to ruin: henceforward, in whom shall we put our trust?”
This goes to the idea that the Prince was recognized in his own time as a particularly saintly figure.
This is compounded by an account of his teacher, the Goguryeo priest known in Japan as Eiji, who greatly grieved that Shotoku Taishi had predeceased him. Eiji had returned to Goguryeo in 615, but when he heard of Shotoku Taishi’s death, he arranged a banquet in Shotoku’s honor, inviting various priests, and lectured on the sutras. In his prayers, he called out Shotoku Taishi—using the name Kamitsumiya Toyotomimi—and declared him a sage. He claimed he possessed the three fundamental principles, he reverenced the Three Treasures of Buddhism, and he helped people in need.
Eiji then made an ominous prediction, claiming that he, himself, would die on the 5th day of the 2nd month of the following year—that is to say, one year to the day after Shotoku Taishi. Then he would join his student and friend in the Pure Land. When he died on the day he predicted, the people declared that both he and Shotoku Taishi must have been sages.
This somewhat echoes an early story told about Shotoku Taishi, which took place in 613—the same year that he supposedly wrote parts of the Gangoji Garan Engi for Asukadera as well. In that year he was heading towards Katawoka when he encountered a starving man on the side of the road. He asked him his name, but the man did not—or could not—answer. Nonetheless, Shotoku Taishi had his servants provide the man with food and drink, and even gave him the clothes off of his own back to keep him warm. He left him there at the crossroads and the next day he sent his servants to check up on him.
Unfortunately, it seems the man had perished—he had been too far gone. And so, Shotoku Taishi told his men to build the man a tomb and to lay the body to rest there at the crossroads, which they did, no doubt wondering about why their boss was so concerned with a single person—and not even someone of consequence at that. This was a lot to spend on anyone, really.
A few days later, Shotoku Taishi had another odd request. He had his servants check the tomb. They found it was untouched since they had closed it up, and at Shotoku Taishi’s command they opened it and looked inside. To their astonishment, the tomb was empty, and no corpse was to be seen. However, the robes that Shotoku Taishi had given him were still there, folded up neatly and placed atop the coffin. The people realized that the man had been a sage and, as the saying goes, “A sage recognizes a sage”, and so it only added to Shotoku Taishi’s own fame.
Of course, even in death, the stories about Shotoku Taishi continued. First, he was buried in the Shinaga Tomb—the tomb that had been created to reinter his father. It is a little interesting that he was not given his own tomb, given how popular he was, but there may have been reasons for that. For one thing, he had not been expected to predecease Kashikiya Hime. If he was really born in 574, he was probably only about 48 when he passed away—still fairly young, all things considered, especially given how much he’d accomplished. They may not have prepared a tomb for him, yet, and so burying him in his father’s tomb may have been the best practice.
Of course, there is a lot going on with that kofun, in more ways than one. First off, the Shinaga Kofun appears to be a square kofun, similar to the Ishibutai kofun, which was thought to be the kofun of Soga no Umako. So why would Shotoku Taishi’s father—whom we are told was a sovereign, even if just for a brief moment—be buried in a square tomb and not a keyhole shaped tomb, like the other Ohokimi? Since we are talking about the legendary Shotoku Taishi, then we probably shouldn’t note that maybe his father wasn’t actually a ruler and maybe that was only something to help further prop up Shotoku Taishi’s own legend.
Whatever the reason, that is where we are told he was buried, and the area around the tomb even carries the name of “Taishi”.
Besides the burial, there were other ceremonies as well. One of them was by one of his consorts, Tachibana no Ohoiratsume. She was, herself, a royal princess, and we are told in some sources that they had both a son, Shirakabe, and a daughter, Teshima.
When Shotoku Taishi passed away, Ohoiratsume pleaded with Kashikiya Hime. She said, and I’m largely quoting the translation in Como’s work: “My lord must surely have been born into Tenjukoku, the Heavenly Land of Long Life. However, the shape of that land cannot be seen with the eye. I wish to have a likeness made so that I can have an image of the land into which he has been born.” This likeness was a tapestry, known to us as the Tenjukoku Shuuchou Mandala. It is an embroidery of an ideal Buddhist heaven, or Pure Land—although which one, nobody has been able to say with any certainty. Still, it is one of the few images that we have, other than statuary, from this period, and though much of it has faded or been lost, you can still see it today as it was restored in the Edo period by combining the surviving fragments with parts of a Kamakura era replica. It is kept at the Chuuguuji, the Temple of the Middle Palace. This mandala is not only an important link to the story Shotoku Taishi, it is one of the few—if not only—surviving pieces of embroidery from its time, and it is particular interest to scholars of the fabric arts, as the techniques used are distinctly different from those used in the later Nara period.
That temple of Chuuguuji was founded by, of course, you guessed it, Shotoku Taishi. We are told that the temple was originally built as a temple on his mother’s estate after she passed away. It was converted into a nunnery in the late Kamakura period and eventually moved to its present location, about 300 meters closer to Houryuuji. It houses not only the Tenjukoku mandala, but also Asuka era statuary, such as its own Miroku image.
From his death, the legend of Shotoku Taishi would only grow. It is often talked about as a Buddhist sect or even cult, and it seems to have been latched on to by various families, especially those with connections to the continent. Early on, the story of Shotoku Taishi was likely influenced primarily by Baekje descended immigrant family groups, but over time, the stories seem to be dominated by Silla descended groups, as pointed out by Como in his book on Shotoku Taishi. Temples like Shitennouji and Kouryuuji, both connected with Silla lineage groups in some way, seem to have had some sway over the stories associated with the Prince, as seen in some of the elements that can link back to various Silla stories. At the same time, Shotoku Taishi was also developed into a figure that helped further boost the legitimacy of the royal family.
We’ll discuss some of that as we try to pull apart some of the fact from fiction in the next episode. We’ll spend a little bit more time with Shotoku Taishi and his alter ego—Prince Umayado, aka Prince Kamitsumiya Toyotomimi.
Until next time, 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

Asuka, Sango (2015). The halo of golden light : imperial authority and Buddhist ritual in Heian Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3986-4.
Deal, William E. and Ruppert, Brian. (2015). A Cultural History of Japanese Buddhism. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies. ISBN: 978-1-405-16700-0.
Kazuhiko, Y., 吉田一彦, & Swanson, P. L. (2015). The Credibility of the Gangōji engi. Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, 42(1), 89–107. http://www.jstor.org/stable/43551912
McCallum, Donald F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Archaeology, Architecture, and Icons of Seventh-Century Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3114-1
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition. ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Pradel, C. (2008). Shōkō Mandara and the Cult of Prince Shōtoku in the Kamakura Period. Artibus Asiae, 68(2), 215–246. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40599600
Matsuo, K. (13 Dec. 2007). A History of Japanese Buddhism. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. doi: https://doi.org/10.1163/ej.9781905246410.i-280
Deal, William (1999). Hagiography and History: The Image of Prince Shōtoku. Religions of Japan in practice. Princeton University Press. ISBN0691057893
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Moran, S. F. (1958). The Statue of Miroku Bosatsu of Chūgūji: A Detailed Study. Artibus Asiae, 21(3/4), 179–203. https://doi.org/10.2307/3248882

Episode 97: Asukadera and Shitennōji

November 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Face and right hand of the Asuka Daibutsu at the current Asukadera. The face and right hand are thought to possibly be original, dating to the early 7th century, while the body appears to have been repaired—possibly having been recast in the form of the original after a fire in 1196. Photo by author.

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This episode we start to look at some of the earliest temples, with recorded dates in the Nihon Shoki. Specifically we are going to look at Asukadera and a little bit at Shitennōji.

Painting of Asukadera as it may have looked in the Asuka period, as found on a dedicatory board at the modern Asukadera. It shows the layout of the pagoda and halls and the lecture hall in the rear.

Model of Asukadera from the later Asuka period. Photo by author, taken at the Asuka Historical Museum.

Colorized photo of Shitennōji from before the typhoon that destroyed the main pagoda, requiring it to be rebuilt. This view is looking from the northeast corner, behind the image hall and out towards the central gate.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 97: Asukadera and Shitennouji.
First off, quick shout out to Craig for supporting us on Ko-Fi.com. We’ll have more information on how you can help support the show at the end of the episode.
To recap so far, we are still in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, in the 6th and early 7th centuries—though for this episode we are going to step back a little bit as much of this has origins in the 6th century, looking at the early spread of Buddhism and the founding of some of the first permanent temple complexes—specifically Asukadera in, well, Asuka, and Shitennouji in the area of modern Ohosaka.
As we’ve seen, Yamato was in the process of importing various things from the mainland—both material culture and immaterial things as well, including philosophy and religion. By religion, of course, we are talking about Buddhism, which we’ve already covered to some extent in Episodes 85 and 88, but let’s go over a little bit of the history, shall we, and catch up with what has been happening since.
Buddhism had likely been coming over to the archipelago since the arrival of Buddhist immigrants from Baekje and elsewhere, though their religion is not much discussed. After all, the Nihon Shoki is focused largely on the Yamato royal family and the court, and so other than groups of immigrants beings settled and possibly organized into family groups, there wasn’t much call to look into their day to day practices.
It is also difficult to know just how far Buddhism had penetrated into the lower ranks of society on the continent, as well. Certainly the courts had adopted Buddhism, but to what extent it was part of the daily lives of the common person, I don’t know that I could say with any certainty. Still, we can imagine that there were likely those who came over to the archipelago with an extant belief in the Buddha and some inkling of the rites and other aspects of Buddhist worship. Did they set up small temples in their villages? Or convert a house into a shrine? Or did they just keep private practice and worship? We don’t know, and as far as I’ve come across we don’t seem to have any conclusive evidence via the archaeological record, either. And so we are left with the written record and what it has to say on the subject.
The Nihon Shoki notes the first official mention of Buddhism in the archipelago as the arrival of a Buddhist statue from Baekje. The official record puts this in the year 552, in the reign of Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, and credits Soga no Iname with taking and building the first temple and setting up the first temple by repurposing his own house—or at least some part of his property. Other families, however, opposed the Soga’s attempts at bringing in and establishing this new religion and ultimately ended up destroying that first temple, tossing the image into the river.
This whole thing repeated itself in 584, about 32 years later—Silla had given Yamato a Buddhist image in 579, and then an image of Miroku, aka Maitreya, and an image of the Buddha, aka Shakyamuni, were both found. Soga no Umako, Iname’s son and successor to his role as Oho-omi, took the two images and had a temple once again built, importing specialists and setting up three nuns to attend to the appropriate rituals. Once again, the Soga’s opponents, led by the powerful Mononobe family, cried foul and had the temple destroyed and the nuns stripped of their robes.
There are a few things about this account that are more than a bit sus, however. First, there is mention of that first Buddha image in both the Joguki, the record of the life of Prince Shotoku Taishi, as well as a record from Gangoji Garan Engi, a record from Gangoji temple—which is to say Asukadera, one of the temples we’ll be talking about, today. In those records we find a different date for the first Buddha image, with its arrival coming in 538, not 552. That would have put its arrival a year before Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, took the throne. It is also rather interesting at just how much the two stories parallel each other, and one has to wonder if they were really two separate stories or if they were one story that got attributed to different members of the Soga family, for some reason. It is also possible that they are different stories, but with similar elements that got conflated across each other. Or it really was a matter of déjà vu, with the experience of Soga no Umako paralleling that of his father, Iname. We also cannot discount some massaging of the text. For one thing, they put it in the reign of Amekunioshi, who had a different maternal line than his previous two successors and elder half-brothers. There may have been political reasons to keep the stories as they were and, hopefully, keep the story relatively tidy.
Regardless of why, the implication seems clear that by 585 there were people in Yamato with some knowledge of Buddhism, as well as the necessary artisans and craftspeople to create a continental style temple complex.
In the following years, the fight between the Soga and the Mononobe escalated with the death of sovereign and the ensuing succession dispute. The Mononobe and their candidate, Prince Anahobe, were destroyed by forces in league with the Soga family. During that conflict, which we covered in Episodes 90 and 91, there was a point where both Soga no Umako and his nephew, the young Prince Umayado, each prayed to the Buddha for victory, promising to erect a temple if they succeeded. Indeed, they did succeed, and based on their vows, two temples were eventually created.
The first temple is known as Asukadera, or the Temple of Asuka, although it also is known by its official name of Hokoji, and later Gangoji. Construction of Hokoji started in 588, and is attributed to Soga no Umako.
The second temple is Shitennoji, or the Temple of the Four Heavenly Kings. We’ll talk about them a bit more, later, but the Four Heavenly Kings are four gods, who appear to pre-date Buddhism, who were co-opted into the Buddhist pantheon as protectors of Buddhism, each one representing a cardinal direction. Shitennouji’s traditional founding is given to us as 593.
Both of these temples still exist, in one form or another. If you go to Asuka, today, you can find a small Asukadera on the site of the previous temple, but it is much reduced from its original form. When it was built, Asukadera would have been at the center of the political heartland of Yamato. It was the land of the Soga, but also the location of the palace of Kashikiya Hime, and it likely rivaled her palace for pride of place in Asuka. However, when the capital eventually moved away from Asuka—first to nearby Kashihara, but then across the Nara basin to Heijo-kyo, modern Nara city—the temple buildings were removed to Nara, to modern day Gankouji, though the site of Houkouji continued to be used as a small, local temple.
The modern temple in Asuka does have a Buddha statue, however, that they believe to have been the original Daibutsu, or Giant Buddha, known as the Asuka Daibutsu. It changed hands many times over the centuries, but has since come back to Asuka, though a little worse for wear.
Shitennouji, on the other hand, is in the heart of modern Ohosaka, in the Tennoji ward. The buildings of Shitennouji have been rebuilt numerous times, although supposedly by the same construction company, one of the oldest businesses in the world, and they remain in their original configuration. Since they’ve been rebuilt, however, this is why you will often hear of another temple, Horyuji, also associated with Prince Shotoku Taishi, as being the oldest temple in Japan, as it has the oldest extant buildings. Make no mistake, however—Asukadera and Shitennouji were founded first, and both still survive in some manner.
These two temples do a lot to help us better understand Buddhism and its influence, but also helps us understand more than that. They help us look into the politics of the time, and even illuminate some of the apparent tensions between different immigrant groups from Baekje and Silla that were becoming more and more prominent in Yamato.
Of the various early temples that were built, Asukadera is perhaps one of the most well-documented, both in the historic record as well as the archaeological evidence. Donald McCallum, in his book, “The Four Great Temples”, notes that serious study of Asukadera began around the Meiji and into the Taisho era, in particular calling out the work of Fukuyama Toshio, published in 1934. Up to that point, it was mostly looking at the histories—both the Nihon Shoki and also works like the Gangouji Engi, the record of Gangouji, the later name for Asukadera. He determined that much of the record, though it claimed to have been written by Shotoku Taishi himself, was actually written later than the Nihon Shoki, based on linguistic analysis. However, there were some sections that appear to be earlier or contemporaneous with the Nihon Shoki, likely pulled from other works, which the Nihon Shoki may have been pulling from as well, including inscriptions on the extant temple buildings at the time. This was determined by things like the grammar and Sinitic characters used, as well as the lack of terms like “Tennou”, which still were not in use until later periods. It is also interesting to note that Shotoku Taishi is referred to in the document by the name “Prince Umayado no Toyotomimi”
Based on that analysis, it seems fairly certain that Soga no Umako was, indeed, largely responsible for donations to build Asukadera, although the Nihon Shoki gives credit to Kashikiya Hime as well. That and certain other features of the Nihon Shoki account were probably added later, possibly at the urging of the Gangouji priests themselves, to stress a stronger connection with the Yamato royal family rather than just Soga no Umako.
The text gives a brief history of Buddhism, which is where we see Buddhism being introduced as early as 538, though it seems to suggest this was still in the reign of Amekunioshi, aka Kinmei Tennou, rather than his predecessors. Soga no Iname is still given much of the credit, though there is a note about Kashikiya Hime also installing a Buddhist icon in her own quarters at one point—something not mentioned in the Nihon Shoki. It does mention the various pro- and anti-Buddhist arguments and steps that the various sides took, including Umako having three nuns ordained and them being eventually defrocked—though without mention of them being whipped, which may have been too much or could be sensationalist additions to the Nihon Shoki text.
One thing that is notably missing in the Gangouji Engi, at least as McCallum summarizes it, is mention of the Mononobe and Soga conflict, and so there is no mention of any special vow that was made to build Asukadera if they were victorious—let alone anything about the vow to build Shitennouji. Instead, it is instigated by the three nuns, who request both a nunnery and a monastery, each with at least 10 ordained nuns or priests, as that was the number required for many of the rites and to ensure proper ordination could take place in the future, thus allowing them to grow the religion. These two temples would need to be close enough so that they could each hear the bells from the other.
Although priests were requested from Baekje, too few came over in response, which is why the nuns themselves were sent over to get a proper ordination. They return in 590 and urge the completion of the two temples—Asukadera and Toyouradera, the latter using the land that was previously Kashikiya Hime’s palace prior to her moving to the Oharida palace site, nearby.
All of that was based on the extant texts, but there were also archaeological excavations that took place in 1956 to 1957, as well as later investigations in and around Asuka Temple and the general area. Even today, excavations in the regions are ongoing, and in a recent visit I saw them excavating nearby palace ruins. Fortunately, the area has not seen the kind of heavy urban development, whether in the modern or pre-modern period, that many other areas have gone through, with much of the land having been returned to farmland, and the importance of the area, today, is well understood.
The initial excavations were a bit surprising. Based on extant temples such as Shitennoji, it was expected that Asukadera would have been planned out in such a way that there was a straight line from the central gate, to the pagoda and the kondou, or golden hall, sometimes called an image hall, with the koudou, or lecture hall, in back. Often there is some separation of the lecture hall from the other two. These buildings are both connected and separated by gates, walls, and pathways, including covered cloisters along the wall, which conforms to the pattern of temples on the Korean peninsula as well. This is very reminiscent of the Baekje layout for temples, and may include other elements such as belfries or similar.
The three main buildings each serve a purpose. As we noted back in Episode 84, the Pagoda had replaced the Stupa, and was often a reliquary, holding relics of some kind. Then there is the Kondou—literally golden halls, as many of the statues and other artwork would be gilded and designed to reflect light, often shining out from the darkness with the goal of leading more people to consider enlightenment. These are the halls where images are placed—hence the other term, “image hall”—whether metal, wood, stone, et cetera.
The pagoda and the kondou may be areas of personal worship, with believers coming to visit them, perhaps to venerate a particular aspect of the Buddha or contemplate something, and images or particular relics are often ascribed particular spiritual power. Often these are included together or near one another.
On the other hand the koudou, or Lecture Hall, also known as the Ordination Hall, would be the place for sermons and various ceremonies. In many ways these are the “working” areas of a temple, and while they often have images and are ornately adorned, they have, in some ways, a more utilitarian function, and in many early temple layouts they are often held apart from the pagoda and kondou in some way.
At Asukadera, the excavations revealed that it was not planned out in the standard three building model, all lined up, as had been expected. Instead, there was a walled courtyard, with cloisters around the sides and a central gate that led to a pagoda in the middle of the area. Then there were three buildings, identified as individual kondou, or image halls, spaced equally to the left, right, and behind the pagoda. A larger building was then found behind the walled courtyard area, determined to be the temple’s lecture hall. All of this was enclosed in another wall, which seems to have defined the larger area of the temple.
This layout is fairly unique. It doesn’t exactly fit anything we’ve seen in Baekje or Silla temples of the period, and most closely resembles something out of Goguryeo. It may be worth noting that there are records that claim the King of Goguryeo provided funds to help build temples in Japan, and that some of the monks involved, including the monk Eben, or Hyephyeon, who helped initially ordain the Zenshin and her fellow nuns, was said to be a man from Goguryeo, and so may have had some influence on the design.
On the other hand, the rooftiles found at the Asukadera site are very much in the Baekje tradition. Up to this point, there is no indication that the Japanese were using rooftiles in their construction, and were likely using thatching, much as many Shinto shrines continue to use to this day. The use of rooftiles is thought to have started with Buddhist temples, and occurred much earlier than their use in other buildings, including palace buildings. Since rooftiles were ceramic, they required different construction techniques so that the roof could support the weight, which would further explain the need to import craftsmen from the continent to help build these structures.
Rooftiles are not necessarily the most exciting thing for people wandering through a museum. Often one is looking at weapons, jewelry, or haniwa statues, and suddenly you come across a plethora of tiles from different buildings, and it can be easy to just glance past. Without understanding what you are looking at, the rooftiles often seem the same—or same-ish. The majority of the tiles are plain, without much distinction. End tiles—whether round or flat—often have similar decorations, such as lotus flowers, and they are often very similar to one another. Furthermore, these are rarely refined works of art—tiles were meant to be mass produced and were often created quickly to meet the demands of construction.
Despite all of this, I think it is worth recognizing that the rooftiles are often important to helping archaeologists, especially when the rest of the building is no longer extant. Rooftiles often would fall off and get buried, or even be reused in some way to edge a gutter or something similar. However, how they are made, the molds that were used, the composition of the clay, etc. can all be analyzed to provide information about the age and size of a structure, helping to know when different buildings may have been built or rebuilt, as well as providing some information on where the materials were coming from. And for those who want to learn more, you can be sure that every part of a tile has its own specialized name and vocabulary—it is something that you can really delve deep into if that is your thing.
The rooftiles at Asukadera are somewhat odd in that they are not as uniform as one might expect, and this may come from the fact that they had imported different tile makers from Baekje, and so each one set up their workshop with slightly different standards. Later, as Yamato as more temples and other continental style buildings were built, these would become larger, more standardized industries. Still, that they seem to conform to the general patterns found in Baekje speaks, again, to the location that the craftsmen were likely from, as well as the connections mentioned in the texts.
And so we see at least Baekje and possibly Goguryeo influence on the design of this temple.
One other thing that has been found is the stone pedestal for an image in the central image hall. We know that at some point a large image was crafted, and the Asuka Daibutsu, or Giant Buddha Image of Asuka, is still extant, and the stone pedestal was likely where it or a similar image sat at some point. However, just when this image was created and installed is still unknown—there are references to various images, but nothing that can be directly attributed to the current Asuka Daibutsu, though various scholars have identified it as being consistent with the Asuka style from at least the 7th century.
The earliest information talks about the stone Miroku, or Maitreya, image that Kafuka no Omi brought back. It was probably not that large, and it seems that it was eventually enshrined at Asukadera in some form. There are mentions of various icons made in the early 7th century as well, which could refer to this. It is said that it was made in 609 by Kuratsukuri no Tori, though that is not without controversy. It was damaged in a fire in 1196, which was originally thought to have destroyed everything. Indeed, an examination of the image has shown that it appears to have been reconstructed, though there is some evidence that the face and right hand are likely original, while the rest of the body was refashioned, probably from the burnt and melted pieces that were damaged in the fire. It still sits in the Angoin at the modern site of Asukadera, for anyone who wants to come and see it.
Taken together, this can give us some idea of what it took to build the temple. Previous so-called temples appear to be conversions of local buildings, with perhaps some work on building a proper pagoda, but at Asukadera they went full-out to build according to the continental standards. That said, there has been a significant amount of ink spilled over just how this process went.
Based on the Nihon Shoki, it would almost appear that everything arrived, fully formed, at the end of 588. As I’ve noted previously, the way that the Nihon Shoki records read it can sometimes be difficult to figure out exactly what happened when, as a single entry will often contain details that must have happened before or after the date of the entry itself, and it isn’t entirely clear exactly what happened on the referenced date, in many cases. Furthermore, since the Chroniclers were pulling from other sources, there is always the possibility that they, themselves, misinterpreted something. Finally, I would note that their primary goal was to give readers and idea of what happened that conformed with what was known as true and what supported the state institutions. Would it have mattered to them exactly when Asukadera was built, as long as it was generally right and in the regards to the appropriate sovereign and nobles? Probably not.
It likely would have taken some time to pull everything together. There would have been planning sessions, and drawings. They would have to harvest the right kind of wood and shape it based on the designs, and an entire industry of tile-making would have to be set up, likely with local hands learning the process. Similarly, woodcarvers would have already existed, but they would likely need to learn new techniques to account for the continental design. And then there were the various rituals that would need to be carried out. This is all in addition to any stonework, special metalwork, or other such things that had not been previously done in the archipelago. On top of that, there would have been issues of translation, with immigrant artisans directing their various groups of craftsmen.
It is possible that work for planning the temple began as early as 588—which may have just been the request for more craftsmen—and then in 596, when we have textual evidence that some part of the temple was “finished”, that may have been nothing more than the pagoda by that time. It is then unclear whether the other buildings were finished together or in separate phases—perhaps the central image hall was finished, and then the two on the sides of the pagoda were added at a later date. Images may have also been shifted around as new images, like the Asuka Daibutsu, were completed. Many scholars have argued for different interpretations based on their readings of the texts, but none of the evidence is so clear as to be incontrovertible.
What is clear is that this was a grand temple, and that would have been equally clear to everyone who viewed it. Furthermore, this temple was connected directly to Soga no Umako and the Soga family. Something to consider: Just as the giant tomb mounds helped demonstrate the power of various clans based on the work and resources that went into them, a temple like Asukadera would have provided similar cache for the Soga family. This is more than just religious devotion, it was a political statement, made in the heart of the region that Kashikiya Hime was ruling from. Visitors to her palace—not to mention later palaces in the area—would have hardly been able to miss the pagoda and the tiled rooves, and locals would have likely heard the toll of the bell, assuming that both they and Toyouradera had them as the sources mention.
Speaking of Toyouradera, I have less information on that compound, but it seems to have been built sometime later. Kashikiya Hime moved to the new Woharida palace around 603, which would have freed the Toyoura palace buildings to be used for the nunnery. While there is evidence of a pagoda being built, I suspect that it originally reused the old palace buildings, repurposing them, and then would have been built out as time allowed. There is still a temple in Toyoura, and some remains that have been examined, but I am not aware of anything as extensive as the work on Asukadera.
In comparison—and perhaps contrast—to Asukadera is the other temple of this episode: Shitennouji, the temple of the Four Heavenly Kings. Now while many later texts certainly involved both Kashikiya Hime and Prince Umayado in the building of Asukadera, it is clear that Soga no Umako played a leading role—and was probably the primary patron for that temple. In contrast, Shitennouji is directly associated with none other than Prince Shotoku Taishi. It claims to have been founded in 593, based on the account of the Nihon Shoki, and it is said to have been commissioned by Crown Prince Shotoku, aka Prince Umayado, in response to the Four Heavenly Kings’ intervention in the Soga-Mononobe war.
To put some of this in perspective: Prince Umayado is said to have been born in 574, and he would have been a teenager during the Soga-Mononobe war, and would have been about 20 years old or so in 593. Granted, this is Shotoku Taishi we are talking about, and all of the history about him claims that he was quite precocious. It is said that when he was born, his hands were clasped together. Two years later, he opened his hands and it was revealed that he had been born holding a relic of the Buddha, which was later enshrined at the temple of Houryuji.
Speaking of Houryuuji, I’m sure we’ll spend more time on it in a future episode, but here’s what you probably should know for context. Houryuuji was built on the site of Prince Umayado’s Ikaruga palace, and is also said to have been directly patronized by Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi. Furthermore, it has the oldest extant wooden buildings in the world, let alone in Japan. And yet, the Shitenouji temple appears to get more air time in the Chronicles, which may be a factor of several different things, but primarily indicating that Shitenouji and its patrons were ascendant at court at the time that everything was being written down, whereas it appears that Houryuuji may have been rebuilding after a fire, and therefore was not as prominent as it would later be. Either way, I encourage people to visit both to get a better idea of this period.
There is less textual evidence—or perhaps there has simply been less scrutiny—for the founding of Shitenouji, and its position is hardly central to the Yamato court. Nonetheless, it is in a place of prominence, as it was near Naniwa, the port to the Seto Inland Sea and beyond. This was also an area that had a high number of immigrants from the mainland, which I’ll be returning to in a bit.
As I mentioned earlier in this episode, Shitenouji follows what we might consider a more traditional design. Entering through the central gate, one comes upon the five storied pagoda, behind which stands the kondou, or image hall. All of this is surrounded by a cloistered wall, which encircles both until you get to the north end, where the wall terminates at the koudou, or lecture hall. The buildings are brightly painted and decorated in red, green, and white—colors that would have likely adorned Asukadera’s posts as well, and which we see in many later temples and images. In fact, the image of a Buddhist temple as brown and plain comes later, likely originating with just the ravages of time and the lack of funding to keep up with the paint, which was originally said to help preserve the wood and prevent damage from insects. Eventually, some sects would come to prefer the more subdued image brought about by natural wood, creating a new aesthetic that continues to be popular. Today you can find a variety of different temple buildings from different eras, some of which maintain the bright colors that would have likely been part of any early temple.
There have been some excavations around Shitenouji, which appear to confirm that the shape has remained roughly the same over the centuries, from what I can tell. The buildings themselves have been rebuilt over the years, but maintain a certain characteristic that seems appropriate to the early temple period. This may be due to the fact that the temple has retained the services of a family of temple builders that continue to operate as a business, even today. Kongou Gumi claims that it was founded in 578, when craftsmen were brought from Baekje to help build temples in Japan, making it the oldest company in the world, though it is now a subsidiary company of the Takamatsu Construction Group. They continue to specialize in traditional temple, shrine, and castle construction, preserving ancient techniques, but also employing modern materials, such as concrete and rebar, where appropriate.
While they were specific to Shitennouji, they were not exclusive, and in the 16th century they helped rebuild Osaka castle. They have repeatedly rebuilt Shitennouji and maintained it through the years, even after it has, at times, been completely destroyed by fire or even typhoon.
The story of Shitennouji’s founding we talked about in the episode on the Soga-Mononobe War, but to quickly recount: The young Shotoku Taishi crafted figures of the four Heavenly kings and prayed for a Soga victory, promising to build a temple if they won. The Soga did win, and so he followed through by building this temple, using land taken from the Mononobe during the war.
So who were the Four Heavenly Kings? Why didn’t he just pray to the Buddha?
The Four Heavenly Kings are gods from India that were transmitted along with Buddhism as Buddhist Deities. They are:
Vaisravana, aka Tamonten, in the north
Virudhaka, aka Zouchouten, in the south
Dhrtarastra, aka Jikokuten, in the east
And Virupaksa, aka Koumokuten, the west.
In general, if you are at a Japanese temple, and you see the name end with “Ten” it may be referring to one of the various Heavenly Kings.
The four heavenly kings are devas, and included as four of the 20 or 24 devas who manifest to protect the Dharma. Given their role in protecting the various cardinal directions, they became popular in East Asian Buddhism, and show up in various Mahayana texts, but they also appear in Theravada traditions as well. It is unclear exactly when and how they became associated with Buddhism, though it wasn’t uncommon for Buddhism to co-opt various gods and deities and turn them into aspects of the Buddha, Boddhisatvas, or, as in this case, protectors of Buddhism. We see similar things happen in the archipelago as various kami are, on occasion, given Buddhist aspects and accepted as defenders of Buddhism.
It appears that they have a particular place in the Konkoumyou Sutra, or Sutra of Golden Light, which is where they appear to have entered East Asian Buddhism. This sutra may have been translated as early as the 5th century, though the Nihon Shoki uses quotes that appear to come from a translation likely made around the 7th or 8th century, which was likely popular at the time that the Nihon Shoki was being compiled. Not only that, but later in the 8th century, various Kokubunji, or provincial temples, would be set up under state sponsorship, in part to create spiritual protection for the realm, and these were specifically set up as temples of the Four Heavenly Kings. So we can see that belief in the efficacy of the Four Heavenly Kings was important around the time that the Chronicles were being compiled.
In addition, Shitennouji is heavily influenced by what some call the “Cult” of “Shotoku Taishi”. Again, by the time that the Nihon Shoki was being compiled, Prince Umayado had already been lifted up on a pedestal and turned into something more than just a Prince—however influential he may have been. He became known as the Father of Buddhism, and the Father of the Nation, having also played a part—we are told—in the creation of the first ever 17 article constitution. He was a Soga relative but he was not, importantly, a member of the direct Soga line, which would land on hard times just a few generations later and be on the political outs.
Michael Como, in his book on Shotoku Taishi, also points out that Shitennouji was associated with the Abe family and with various lineages with ties specifically to Silla, including groups like the Hata—although the layout of the temple still accords with Baekje temple design, as far as I can tell. Still, by the 8th century in particular, Shitennouji and similar temples claiming sponsorship or connections to Shotoku Taishi appear to have had connections with lineages descending from or with connections to Silla.
Spoiler alert: Silla would eventually take over the entire Korean Peninsula, and therefore, by the 8th century, there were no new “Baekje” or “Goguryeo” immigrants—anyone coming over was from Silla. And Michael Como points out that there seems to have been a bit of a political rift and distinction between Silla descended lineage groups and Baekje descended lineage groups. Asukadera and the Soga family—and even Shotoku Taishi’s temple of Houryuuji—appear to have been firmly attached to the Baekje lineages, whom they had sponsored to come over to help them promote Buddhism, but by the 8th century, Silla-backed groups were more dominant. He points to a “split” in the Shotoku Taishi worship, with the Silla-backed temples dominating the narrative in the 8th century and beyond.
This may also play into the story of the founding of Shitennouji, as there is a similar story in the Samguk Yusa, as Como points out. In it, the King prays to the Heavenly Kings for victory against the Tang, and that same King is said to have built the Sacheonwang Temple in the Silla capital of Gyeongju. This temple would become a model for later temples in Silla, and introduced a layout with two pagodas, rather than one. We see this pattern arrive in the archipelago, influencing temples like Yakushiji, in modern Nara.
Unfortunately, this all seems to just muddy the waters. I think we can probably say that the founding of Shitennouji by a young Shotoku Taishi, while possible, seems a bit sus. Sure, I guess they could have built a temple on the land taken from the Mononobe—it would have been quite the statement given that the Mononobe had been so anti-Buddhism, at least according to the textual records. But was it originally dedicated to the Four Heavenly Kings? Or did that part come later, as the texts on the Four Heavenly Kings grew more popular?
I suspect that the temple, which seems laid out in the standard Baekje style, was no doubt one of the early temples, and it may even have been built on Mononobe property. But the association with Shitennouji—and the legend of Shotoku Taishi—probably came later. It was in a great position, however, to gain patronage from newly arrived immigrants, as the port of Naniwa would have been one of the more cosmopolitan locations, and after the downfall of Baekje and Goguryeo, most of those people crossing the sea would have identified with Silla.
Regardless of the legends behind it, Shitennouji does appear to have a claim to be one of the oldest temples in Japan, and shortly after it was built—or at least they started work on the temple—we are told that Kashikiya Hime told Shotoku Taishi to aggressively promote Buddhism, which seems to have kicked off a temple-building fad. No doubt the prestige that came from being connected with a temple like Asukadera or Shitennouji had some small part to play in that.
Temples would become another source of spiritual, and thus political, power, for various kinship groups, much as shrines and kofun were as well. In fact, the temple building craze is often seen as the beginning of the end of the Kofun period. All of the money and resources that were poured into temple building—whether as private projects or as state sponsored projects—would put a huge drain on the labor pool for things like monumental tombs. In addition, as Buddhist theology took hold, a dedicatory temple was, in many ways, more useful, as it could be a way of building merit for the dead, as opposed to simply building giant tomb mounds. That doesn’t mean it ended immediately, but as I’ve mentioned before we start to see the tomb sizes shrink. Nothing would rival the middle kofun era building projects, and there would be a greater focus on building things like temples.
I also suspect that this new style of construction may have had other knock on effects as well. Grand buildings such as those built for temples, and later palaces, were not quite so easy to dismantle and reassemble elsewhere. These were major construction projects and the materials were now heavier, especially those tiled roofs. Not that it was “easy” to just build a palace in the older style, but it was clearly something that could be done quickly if necessary, as shown with the construction of various temporary buildings for envoys and the like—or even the decision to move to a new palace part way through a reign. These new buildings weren’t the same, and we can see how, when Asukadera was moved up to Nara—where it is known as Gankouji—they clearly left many of the buildings and materials behind and likely built new buildings in the new capital. Giant images would also have been difficult to transport, and probably easier to just commission a new one. Had Asukadera, aka Houkouji, not burned down and been generally neglected by the court, which by then had moved on to Heian-kyo, then perhaps it would have retained some of the buildings, as Houryuuji, did. Unfortunately, it did burn down, and so today is only a shadow of what it once was—though still worth a visit, in my opinion.
And that’s where we’ll wrap things up for now. Until next time, 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

McCallum, Donald F. (2009). The Four Great Temples: Buddhist Archaeology, Architecture, and Icons of Seventh-Century Japan. ISBN 978-0-8248-3114-1
Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition. ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Episode 96: From the Land Where the Sun Rises

October 16, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Figurine of a court official from the Sui Dynasty. This is the kind of dress that envoys like Pei Shiqing wore, and it would eventually influence the court dress of Japan. Photo by author. Figurine from the Indianapolis Museum of Art.

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This episode we look at the Sui Dynasty and the famous exchange between the Sui and Yamato. The Sui Dynasty is relatively short-lived—only two rulers to speak of, it lasted from 581 to 618, so not quite forty years. And yet, in that time, they accomplished a lot and set the stage for the later Tang Dynasty.

It is hard to say exactly when many of the various influences came over to Yamato, but we can see in the art and literature many things that we also find in Japan. Below are the sun and moon, represented by a rabbit with a mortar and pestle and a three legged bird. These are both from the Northern Zhou period, just preceding the Sui dynasty. Combined with Buddhism and all of the trappings of the court, even if the Sui dynasty would not last, Yamato was only absorbing more and more of the continental culture, and that would continue into the Tang dynasty.

Image of what appears to be a rabbit with a mortar and pestle, representing the moon—an image also found in Japan event today.

The three legged bird in the sun, often used in Japan to represent the Yatagarasu that guided Jimmu.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 96: From the Land Where the Sun Rises.
Once again, we are still talking about the reign of Kashikiya Hime, from the late 6th to early 7th century. This time, though, we are going to take a quick diversion from Yamato and first look at what was going on over on the continent, in the area of the Yellow and Yangzi River Basins—the area of the so-called “middle country”. This is, after all, where a lot of the philosophy and other things that the archipelago was importing came from, so what was going on over there?
Back in Episode 73, ee talked about the various northern and southern dynasties in the Yellow and Yangzi River Basins. To sum up, during that period, the eastern area of modern China was split between a variety of dynasties, many of them short-lived, and many of them—especially in the north—were dynasties from outside of the main Han ethnic group.
Up through the early 580’s, the dynasty in charge of the Yellow River region was the Northern Zhou, one of the many dynasties in the north descended from the nomadic Xianbei ethnic groups. Though their aristocracy was a mix of multiple ethnicities that had intermarried over the years, the Northern Zhou celebrated their Xianbei roots, often to the detriment of ethnic Han groups. They had inherited the territory of the Western Wei, including much of the central Yangzi region down to Sichuan. They then defeated the Northern Qi in 577 and claimed dominion over all of the Yellow River region in the north of modern China. Their only rival was the Chen dynasty, along the eastern reaches of the Yangzi river, but the Chen themselves were relatively weak, and it was only the power struggles within the Northern Zhou court that kept them from wiping out the Chen completely.
In 581, the Northern Zhou suffered a coup d’etat. Yang Jian was a Northern Zhou general, and his family, the Yang clan, had Han origins but had intermarried with the Xianbei as well, creating a truly mixed lineage. Jian also held some sway at court, and was known as the Duke of Sui—his daughter was the Empress Dowager, and her stepson was the young Emperor Jing. In 581 Yang Jian usurped power from his step-grandson, the child emperor Jing, and placed himself on the throne, taking the name Emperor Wen of Sui, using his previous title as the name of the new dynasty.
He killed off fifty-nine princes of the previous Northern Zhou, and began to consolidate his power. By 587, he had strengthened his position, and by 588 invasion of the Chen territories began under Prince Yang Guang. By 589, the Chen were defeated and any attempts at rebellion were put down, giving the Sui dynasty full control of northern and southern regions—from the Yellow and Yangzi Rivers down to the Sichuan basin.
Although, as I noted, the Yang family had intermarried with the Xianbei families of the Northern Zhou, they still retained some connection with their Han roots, and Emperor Wen won over the Han Confucian scholars with reforms to the rank system and at least a nod towards getting rid of nepotism and corruption that had taken hold in the Northern Zhou and previous dynasties. He reinstituted Han dynasty titles and restored the nine rank system. He also reinstituted a system of impartial judges to seek out talent and moved towards the idea of an examination system—something that would really take hold in later centuries.
Furthermore, while he set himself up in the northern capital of Daxingcheng, aka Chang’an, he helped rebuild the southern capital, naming it Dayang. He also supported Buddhism and Daoism. He became a patron of southern Buddhist monasteries, and recognized major temples as state-sponsored institutions—a far cry from the suppression attempts in the north in 574 and 578.
Emperor Wen also worked on repairing canals along the Yellow River. These canals, which allowed easy transport of goods, regularly silted up without maintenance, and the dikes on either side could break, flooding the land on either side. They had been neglected during many of the short-lived reigns up to this point, with perhaps a few exceptions when things got really bad. However, Emperor Wen began work to fix these old canals and thus improve the flow of goods and services.
Given all of this - his patronage of Buddhism and Daoism, as well as his attempt to resurrect the Han dynasty and the Confucian principles that underlay its government, as well as the public works that he instituted, Yang Jian, aka Emperor Wen of Sui, is remembered as the Cultured Emperor—despite that fact the had started out as a blood-soaked general who had secured his usurpation with a not inconsiderable amount of murder. Sima Guang, writing from the Song dynasty, centuries later, praised Emperor Wen for all he did to grow the Sui, uniting north and south, supporting the people, and helping the country to prosper as it rarely has before. And yet, Sima Guang also says that in his personal life he was mean and stingy and paranoid—afraid that everyone was out to get him. Given the life he’d lived, that would make some sense. Still, he seems to have been good for his people, in the long run.
But this wasn’t to last. In 604, Emperor Wen fell ill and died. Or at least that is the official story. Another says that he had grown angry over some event and was about to disinherit the crown prince, Yang Guang, who sent someone to kill his father. That is a very abbreviated version of the story, and, as I said, it is not without controversy.
However he died, his son, Yang Guang, succeeded him to the throne and became known as Emperor Yang. Emperor Yang continued to expand the empire, and under his dynasty the Sui would attain their greatest extent yet. He rebuilt parts of the Great Wall, and expanded the borders south, into modern Vietnam, as well as up to the borders with Goguryeo. He also continued the work his father had begun on canals, eventually undertaking the creation of the Grand Canal, which would connect the Yellow and Yangzi Rivers. No longer would the two be separate, forced to send goods out to sea or over treacherous land routes to get from one river basin to another. Now they could sail ships straight from one river to the other—an impressive feat that you can still see today in parts of modern China. The project would forever change the landscape of China, both literally and figuratively. It connected the north and south, leading to greater political, economic, and cultural unity between the two regions. It would connect the culture and economic resources of the south with the military institutions of the north.

Unfortunately, for all that this expansion may have been good for commerce, it came at a price. The wars in Champa, in Southern Vietnam, saw thousands of Sui soldiers die from malaria. And then, in the north, though they continuously pushed against Goguryeo, they were never quite able to overthrow them. Finally, there was the Grand Canal. Although it would truly be a wonder of the world, and become a part of the lifeblood of dynasties for centuries to come, it was built at a huge price both monetarily and in human lives. We can assume a large number of people died as conscript labor working on the canals or on refurbishing the Great Wall, but also we are told that the monetary price largely bankrupted the empire, and for which later historians castigated the Sui dynasty
But that was still to happen. For our purposes, we should rewind a bit, to the very beginning of the 7th century. As we touched on last episode, Yamato was just adopting their own twelve rank system and a seventeen article constitution shortly after Emperor Wen passed away and Yang Guang took the throne.
Now these 17 articles were almost all based on Confucian or Buddhist philosophy; clearly the Court was looking to the continent more and more for inspiration on how to govern, especially as it further expanded and solidified its grasp across the archipelago. Up to this point, much of that innovation had come through the Korean peninsula, by way of Silla, Goguryeo, and, most prominently, their ally Baekje. But no doubt they knew that much of what was influencing those kingdoms had, itself, come from even farther away.
And so, this reign, the Chronicles record that Yamato once again sent envoys beyond their peninsular neighbors all the way to the Middle Country itself. This is significant as they were making direct contact with the mighty empire, the source of so many of the philosophical and scientific innovations that Yamato was trying to adopt. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, of course—we know of the cases of state of Na contacting the Han court, and then Himiko of the Wa during the Wei period, as well as several missions immediately after Himiko’s death. We also know of the five kings of Wa who reached out to the Liu Song court, though the Chronicles themselves are often silent on actual embassies, making it hard to tell exactly which reigns that occurred in, though it is generally agreed that one of those “Five Kings” was none other than Wakatakiru himself, Yuuryaku Tennou.
There may have been other missions. There seems to be some discussion amongst the Liang dynasty records that may indicate greater contact with Japan, but again, we don’t necessarily see that in the records themselves. Furthermore, with the fractured nature of the various dynasties since the Han period, and the various conflicts on the peninsula and in the archipelago, it would be understandable if there hadn’t been much direct diplomatic contact since about the time of Wakatakiru.
And so it is a pretty big thing that we not only have an envoy around the year 608, but that there appears to be agreement for it in the Sui history—though there is one glaring mistake: in the Nihon Shoki they clearly say that they sent envoys to the “Great Tang”, and not the Sui. However, this is fairly easily explained. By the 8th century, as the records were being compiled, the Tang dynasty was, indeed, in control of the Chinese court. In fact, the Tang dynasty was so admired by the Japanese of the day that even now the term “Karafu”, or “Chinese style”, uses the character for the Tang dynasty, rather than the Han. On the one hand it seems as though the scholars of the 8th century would surely have known of the Sui dynasty coming before the Tang, but it is also understandable that anyone would have just thought of the successive courts as a single continuity. Either way, I’ll talk about the Sui dynasty, and it is in the Sui dynasty records that we find the corresponding description of this embassy.
It starts on the 3rd day of the 7th month of 607. The Chronicles tell us that Wono no Omi no Imoko was sent to the Sui court, taking along Kuratsukuri no Fukuri as an interpreter. You may recall that the Kuratsukuri, or saddle-makers, claimed a descent from Shiba Tattou, himself from the continent. It would make sense to take someone on this diplomatic exhibition who could actually speak the language or, failing that, read and write it - a peculiar function of the Chinese language, since the various dialects, though often mutually unintelligible, still use the same characters.
Imoko, by the way, may have also had important connections, but in this case it was to the Soga. We are told in the Nihon Shoki that Imoko was known in the Sui Court as “So Imko”, and the “So” character is the same as the first character in the name “Soga”. It is possible that Imoko was, indeed, a Soga family member, and the name Wono no Omi may have come later. Or it is possible that he was forgotten for some reason.
On the Sui side, we are told that in the year 607 there was an envoy sent with tribute from King Tarashihoko, which may have been another name for Kashikiya Hime, or perhaps it was simply an error caused by the problems with attempting to record foreign names in Sinitic characters.
The arrival of the embassy must have been something else, especially as they came upon the capital city. Wen’s capital city, that of Daxingcheng, was a new city, built just southeast of the ancient city of Chang’an, which was in a sad state of decay, despite hosting so many rulers over the centuries, including the Northern Zhou themselves. Wen had laid out a new plan of a permanent, rectangular city, with the royal palace taking up the northern central district. Buddhist and Daoist temples were scattered throughout the city.
The city itself was five to six miles a side, and so it would take time to truly build it out. However, first the walls were set up, and then the palace area, so that Wen effectively moved into an empty city when he arrived in 583. Many people were forcibly resettled, and members of the new royal family were encouraged to set up their own palaces, but it would take time to truly fill up—by the end of the Sui dynasty, and the beginning of the Tang, the city was still being built, and it wouldn’t see its ultimate heyday as a vibrant urban capital until the Tang dynasty.
And so when the Yamato delegation arrived in 608, they would have seen the impressive walls and the immense palace, but in all likelihood, much of the city was still being built, and there was likely construction on every block. Nonetheless, the sheer size would have to have made an impression on them—nothing like this existed in the archipelago in the slightest.
On the other hand, the Sui had their own curiosities about Yamato. The history of the Sui, written only twenty to thirty years afterwards, starts out its account with a description of the Land of Wa. Some of it is taken directly from the Wei histories, recounting what was previously known about these islands across the eastern sea—we talked about that back in episodes 11 to 13. The Sui history summarizes these previous historical accounts, including mention of envoys that came over during the Qi and Liang dynasties—between 479 and 556—though little more is said.
Then the Sui history mentions an envoy that is said to have arrived in the early part of the Sui—the Kaihuang era, between 581-600. We are told that this was for a “King” whose family name was Ame and his personal name was Tarashihiko, with the title of Ohokimi—at least, assuming we are transliterating correctly, as the characters used have slightly different pronunciations. That could easily be attributed to just mistranslations. Even the family and personal name are familiar, but not exactly attributed in the Chronicles—though we have seen the elements elsewhere in the royal family, and it may be that they were also titles, of a sort. Also, they mention a King, but that could also just be due to the fact that the Ohokimi was not a gendered title, and as such the Sui simply assumed a male ruler. There is no evidence of this in the Chronicles for this, however it is said that at that time they looked into the ways of the Wa and they were told that “The King of Wa deems heaven to be his elder brother and the sun, his younger. Before break of dawn he attends the Court, and, sitting cross-legged, listens to appeals. Just as soon as the sun rises, he ceases these duties, saying that he hands them over to his brother.”
This is likely a misunderstanding, once again, but it rings with some truth. Even if we discard some of the legends about Amaterasu as later additions, there is plenty of linguistic and cultural evidence that the sun held a special place in Wa culture. There is also the article in the new constitution about starting early to work that might just be referenced here.
We aren’t sure when, exactly, the Sui collected this information—though given that it was written within living memory of many of the events, a lot of the information is considered to at least be plausible, if perhaps a bit misunderstood at times. The Sui history specifically mentions the twelve court ranks—in fact, it is possible that the Chronicles, compiled in the 8th century, were actually referencingthis earlier history about the ranks, though we know that ranks continued in one way or another. It also makes the comment that there were no regulated number of officials in each rank—that would certainly be the case later, and makes sense when the ranks also dictated how much of a salary that one could expect from the court. Then, outside of the court they mention the “kuni”—the kuni no miyatsuko—and then claimed that each kuni no miyatsuko oversaw about 10 inaki, officials in charge of the royal granaries, who each oversaw 80 families. It is doubtful that these numbers were that precise, but it gives an interesting concept of scale.
The Sui history also tells us about other things that the Chronicles tend to leave out. We are told that the men wore both outer and inner garments, with small (likely meaning narrow) sleeves. Their footgear was like sandals, painted with lacquer, which sounds not unlike geta, which we do have evidence for going back into the Yayoi, at least, though this was only for the upper crust—most people just went barefoot, wearing a wide piece of cloth tied on without sewing.
We do get a hint at the headgear that was instituted along with the court rank system, by the way, but only a glimpse. We are told that it was made of brocade and colored silk and decorated with gold and silver inlaid flowers, which does correspond to some of what we know from the Chronicles.
As for the women of Yamato, we are told that they arrange their hair on the back of the head, and they wear outer garments and scarves with patterns. They have decorative combs of bamboo as well. They also wore tattoos, as did the men. Much of this, including the tattoos, accords with what we have evidence of in the Haniwa from the 6th century and later.
For sleeping arrangements we are told that they weave grass into mattresses—possibly the origin of the later tatami that would originally just be woven mats but eventually turned into a type of permanent flooring. For covers we are told they used skins lined with colored leather—a curious blanket, and one wonders if this was for everyone or just the upper crust.
We are given some discussion of their weapons and armor, including their use of lacquered leather and the fact that they made arrowheads out of bone. We also know they used metal, but bone was likely the more prevalent material, as losing a metal arrowhead was much more costly than losing a bone one.
Interestingly we are told that, though there is a standing army, wars are infrequent—which may have been accurate in relation to what the Sui themselves had gone through and seen, since it seems like they were almost constantly fighting somewhere along their borders. But Yamato was far from peaceful, and it is telling that the court was accompanied by music and displays of military might.
As for the justice system, we talked about this a little bit in previous episodes, based on various punishments we’ve seen in the archipelago, though the Sui history gives us a slightly more direct description. It claims that there were some high crimes punished by death. Others were punished with fines, often meant to make restitution to the aggrieved. If you couldn’t pay you would be enslaved to pay for it instead. They also mention banishment and flogging. All of this is in line with some of what we’ve seen in the Chronicles, though it also seems like some of this may have also depended on other factors, including the accused’s social status. After all, not everyone had rice land that they could just turn over to wipe out their misdeeds.
Then there were the various judicial ordeals. We’ve mentioned this idea , with the idea that somehow the righteous would be protected from injury. These included things like pulling pebbles out of boiling water, or reaching into a pot to grab a snake and hoping he doesn’t bite you. There are also various tortures designed to get one to confess.
In discussing literacy, the Sui histories mention that the Wa have no written characters—and at this point, the writing would have been some form of Sinic characters, assuming one could read and write at all. Instead, the Sui anthropologists said that the Wa used notched sticks and knotted ropes as a means of conveying messages. How exactly that work, I’m not sure, but there are certainly cultures that we know used things like knotted rope for various math and conveying numbers, etc.
In regards to religion, the Sui noticed that Buddhism had taken hold, but it had not gotten rid of other practices. Thus we know they practiced forms of divination and had faith in both male and female shamans.
In their free time, people would enjoy themselves. On New Year’s day, they would have archery tournaments, play games, and drink—the Sui said that it was very much like how they themselves celebrated.
Coromorant fishing and abalone diving—well, diving for fish—are both noted already. Again, these are activities that continue into the modern day.
At dinner we are told that the people do not eat off of dishes or plates, but instead use oak leaves. We’ve seen mention of this kind of practice, and that may have just been a particular ritual or ceremony that made its way back.
Finally, there are the rituals for the dead. We are told people wear white—white is often considered the color of death in Japan, even today. They would have singing and dancing near the corpse, and a nobleman might lay in state—in a mogari shelter or temporary interment—for three years. Certainly, we’ve sometimes seen it take a while, especially if the kofun isn’t ready to receive the body, yet. Commoners apparently would place the body in a boat which was pulled along from the shore or placed in a small palanquin—though what happens after that is somewhat of a mystery.
The Sui envoys writing about this also apparently experienced an active period of Mt. Aso—or another mountain so-named—as they said it was belching forth fire from the rocks. As we’ve mentioned, the archipelago is particularly active, volcanically speaking, so I’m not surprised that an envoy might have had a chance to get to know a little more about that first hand.
Having described the country thus, the Sui Chronicles go on to describe the embassy that came over in the year 607. According to the history as translated by Tsunoda Ryusaku and L. Carrington Goodrich, the envoy from Yamato explained the situation as such: “The King has heard that to the west of the ocean a Boddhisattva of the Sovereign reveres and promotes Buddhism. Accompanying the embassy are several tens of monks who have come to study Buddhism.” This is great as we see some of the things that the Japanese scholars left out—that there were Buddhists on this mission. For many, getting to the monasteries and temples of the Middle Kingdom was almost as good as making the trip all the way to India.
Over all, the embassy appears to have been largely successful in their mission. The ambassador, Imoko, came back with an envoy from the Sui, Pei Shiqing, along with twelve other individuals. It is thought that this may have been the same embassy that then reported back to the court all of the various details that the later Sui history captured.
According to the Sui dynasty history, the embassy first headed to Baekje, reaching the island of Chiku, and then, after seeing Tara in the south, they passed Tsushima and sailed out in to the deep ocean, eventually landing on the island of Iki. From there they made it to Tsukushi, and on to Suwo. They then passed through some ten countries until they came to the shore.
Now, Naniwa no Kishi no Wonari had been sent to bring them to court and they had a new official residence erected for them in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. When they arrived, on the 15th day of the 6th month of the year 608, Yamato sent out thirty heavily decorated boats to meet them—and no doubt to make an impression as well. They met them at Yeguchi, the mouth of the river and they were ensconced in the newly built official residence.
Official entertainers were appointed for the ambassadors—Nakatomi no Miyatoko no Muraji no Torimaro, Ohohoshi no Kawachi no Atahe no Nukade, and Fume no Fumibito no Oohei. Meanwhile, Imoko continued on to the court proper to report on his mission.
Unfortunately, for all of the goodness that came from the whole thing, the trip had not been completely flawless. The Sui court had entrusted Imoko with a letter to pass on to the Yamato court, but the return trip through Baekje proved… problematic, to say the least. We are told that men of Baekje stopped the party, searched them, and confiscated the letter. It is unclear whether these were Baekje officials or just some bandits, but the important thing was that Imoko had lost the message, which was a grave offense. The ministers suggested that, despite all of his success, Imoko should be banished for losing the letter. After all, it was the duty of an envoy to protect the messages between the courts at all costs.
In the end, it was agreed that, yes, Imoko should be punished, but that it would be a bad look in front of their guests. After all, he had just represented them to the Sui Court, and so Kashikiya Hime pardoned Imoko of any wrongdoing.
A couple months later, on the 3rd day of the 8th month, the preparations had been made and the envoys formally approached the palace. There were met on the Tsubaki no Ichi road by 75 well-dressed horses—the Sui history says two hundred—and there Nukada no Muraji no Hirafu welcomed them all with a speech.
After finally reaching the location of the palace, it was nine more days before the Sui envoys were formally summoned to present themselves and state their reason for coming. Abe no Tori no Omi and Mononobe no Yosami no no Muraji no Idaku acted as “introducers” for the guests, announcing who they were to the court. Then Pei Shiqing had the various diplomatic gifts arranged in the courtyard, and then presented his credentials to the court. Then, bowing twice, he gave his own account of why he had been sent—he announced greetings from the Sui emperor, recognized the work of Imoko, and then provided an excuse that the emperor himself could not make it due to his poor health. That last bit I suspect was a polite fiction, or perhaps an erroneous addition by the Chroniclers. After all, it isn’t like the Sui emperors were in the habit of just gallivanting off to an unknown foreign land—especially one across the sea.
After delivering some polite niceties, Shiqing also provided a detailed list of all of the diplomatic gifts that they had brought.
The dance that happened next is telling. In order to convey Pei Shiqing’s letter to the sovereign, it wasn’t like they could just hand it. There were levels of protocol and procedure that had to be observed, and so Abe no Omi took the letter up and handed it to Ohotomo no Kurafu no Muraji, who in turn placed it on a table in front of the Great gate where Kashikiya Hime could then get it. This setup is similar to the later court, where only certain individuals of rank were actually allowed up into the buildings of the palace, whereas others were restricted to the ground.
After that formal introduction, there was a month or more of parties for the envoys, until finally they had to return to the Sui court. When they departed, they were sent with eight students and Imoko, who was bringing another letter back to the Sui Court. The students were all scheduled to study various disciplines and bring the knowledge back to the Yamato court. But that wasn’t quite so special, or at least we aren’t given much more on the specifics of what the students brought back..
What really stands out in the Sui histories is the contents of the formal letter that Imoko was carrying, as it had a phrase that will be familiar to many students of this period of history, and which really connects across the Japanese and Sui histories, despite other inconsistencies. It read: “The Son of Heaven in the land where the sun rises addresses a letter to the Son of Heaven in the land where the sun sets. We hope you are in good health.” Or at least, that is how the Sui histories record it. In the Nihon Shoki they say something similar, “The Emperor of the East respectfully addresses the Emperor of the West.” Here, rather than using “Child of Heaven”, the author made use of the term “Tennou” when referring to the Yamato sovereign, and then different characters were used for the Sui emperor. At the same time, that is one of the reasons that I give more credence to the Sui history.
Of course, however you slice and dice this thing, there are some major airs being taken by the Yamato sovereign. Thus it is no wonder that, when the Sui emperor heard this, he was displeased, to say the least, and he told his minister that the letter was discourteous and should never again be brought to his attention. So that’s a whole mood.
The reason for this offense may be obvious, as the letter paints the sovereign of Japan as equal to the emperor of the Sui dynasty. That was indeed a bold claim. As we mentioned towards the top of the episode, the Sui were just about at their zenith. They had defeated their enemies, taken control of both the northern and southern regions, expanded to their south and north, and they were using their vast reserves on massive public works. They were a large, established and still growing empire. Comparatively Yamato had, what, 100,000 households? No writing system. They were eating off of oak leaves. And yet they were taking on airs and claiming that they were equal to the Sui. That had to garner more than a few eyerolls, and I really wonder at the temerity of the officer who presented it up the chain, especially as they would have seen what the Sui was really like—a reality that most of envoys to the Sui court would have seen firsthand. There is also the fact that they claim to be the land where the sun rises while the Sui are the land where the sun sets, which may have just been referencing east and west in a poetic fashion, but on another level it is almost as if they were talking about the rise of Yamato and the fall, or setting, of the Sui.
I would note that we still don’t see the term “Land of the Rising Sun”, or “Nihon”, used for the name of the country yet—one of the reasons I continue to refer to Yamato and not just “Japan”. However, all of this is in keeping with the traditions of the Wa people as we know them—the sun was given a special place in their worldview, as demonstrated linguistically, and not just through the legends curated in the 8th century.
By the way, this exchange is mentioned in both the Sui History and the Nihon Shoki, but they place it in slightly different contexts. According to the Sui History, this was one of the first things that envoys said, whereas the version in the Nihon Shoki it was actually sent with the second mission. In either case, however, the content is relatively the same.
Certainly, as Japan continued to take on more and more trappings of the continental courts, they would eventually even take on the term Tennou—also read in Japanese as Sumera no Mikoto—to refer to the sovereign. This is basically saying that the sovereign is, indeed, a Heavenly Son, and which they would come to translate as “emperor”, in English. There would be other terminology and trappings that would reinforce this concept, which placed the sovereign of Japan in a position that at least locally seemed to be much more prestigious.
Imoko came back from this last diplomatic mission and was well beloved—some later sources even suggest that he may have been promoted for his diplomatic efforts. Oddly, however, we don’t really hear more, if anything, about Imoko, and he fades back into the past.
And so that covers much of the story of what Yamato was borrowing from the Sui and others during this period. Next episode—well, I’m honestly not sure what we’ll be covering next, as there is just so much going on during Kashikiya-hime’s reign. But stick around.
Until next time, 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

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.
Kawagoe, Aileen (2009). “Caps and court rank: the Kan’i junikai system”. Heritage of Japan. Retrieved 10/1/2023.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4
Tsunoda, Ryusaku (1951). Japan in the Chinese Dynastic Histories: Later Han Through the Ming Dynasties. Perkins Asiatic Monographs Number 2

Episode 95: Cap Ranks and the 17 Article Constitution

October 1, 2023 Joshua Badgley

Site of one of the palaces found in Asuka, possibly the site of Kashikiya Hime’s palace, which would have been the center of the court activity.

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This episode we are talking about the new innovations the court implemented this reign. Mainly about the court rank system and the new constitution.

Twelve Level Cap Rank System

The kan’i-junikai (冠位十二階) is the term used for the rank system developed in this period. It resembles systems in Baekje, Goguryeo, and in various other states. It applied specifically to those individuals connected with the court.

In this early system, it was not necessarily a numerical system. That is to say, later court ranks would literally be “Rank 1” to “Rank 9”, often with various other divisions in each rank.

The ranks are as follows:

Daitoku (大徳) - Greater Virtue
Shōtoku (小徳) - Lesser Virtue
Dainin (大仁) - Greater Humanity
Shōnin (小仁) - Lesser Humanity
Dairai (大礼) - Greater Propriety
Shōrai (小礼) - Lesser Propriety
Daishin (大信) - Greater Faith
Shōnin (小信) - Lesser Faith
Daigi (大義) - Greater Justice
Shōgi (小義) - Lesser Justice
Daichi (大智) - Greater Wisdom
Shōchi (小智) - Lesser Wisdom

Each rank was indicated by a particular cap—the Sui history says “it was made of brocade and colored silk and decorated with gold and silver inlaid flowers.” (Tsunoda 1951). Each cap was a particular color to indicate the rank, but the specific color isn’t mentioned. There are several theories as to what specific colors they used, but nothing definitive that has been set down. Our founder, Tony Bryant, used one theory for our suggested chart, but even that is just supposition.

Seventeen Article Constitution

The Seventeen Article Constitution is said to be the first written legal code of Japan. We go over it in the podcast, but here’s a summary:

Harmony is to be valued
Reverence the Three Treasures
Obey the sovereign’s commands
Ministers should act with decorum
Ministers should deal impartially with suits submitted to them
Chastise what is evil and encourage that which is good
Let everyone have their own charge, and let not the spheres of duty be confused
Let the ministers and functionaries arrive early and retire late
Good faith is the foundation of right
Let us cease from wrath, and refrain from angry looks
Keep track of merit or demerit and reward or punish appropriately
Don’t let the local lords levy taxes – that is for the central government alone
Everyone employed in an official office should attend diligently to their functions
Be not envious
The path of the minister is to turn away from that which is private and focus on the publ ic
Only conscript people into forced labor at the right times
Discuss weighty matters with a group, don’t make big decisions just by one person

For a full look at each article, a copy of the Aston translation can be found here: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Seventeen-article_constitution

You can also search the online copy of the Nihon Shoki at the Japanese Historical Text Initiative, which includes search features and the original text.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Episode 96: From the Land Where the Sun Rises.
We are still talking about the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, from the late 6th to the early 7th century. We’ve been covering discussions of the continental influences on the archipelago, especially as they adopted more and more continental practices—both religion and government. This episode we are going to continue the discussion regarding Yamato’s interactions, specifically a notably famous trip to the continent and Yamato’s apparent assumption of equality between their ruler, the Ohokimi, and the Emperor of the Sui dynasty—the Son of Heaven. We’ll also touch on the changes Japan was adopting in their own government as a result of greater adoption of continental philosophy. These are largely seen as a Sinification—a trend towards a more “Chinese” style system—but I want to emphasize that a lot of this was filtered through the lens of the states on the Korean peninsula: Baekje, Goguryeo, and Silla. This is one of the reasons I hesitate to just call it “Chinese”, as Yamato was really blending aspects of several cultural influences, as well as adding their own spice to the sauce.
Hence, last episode we talked about Yamato’s contact with the continent—specifically the Korean Peninsula—and the various diplomatic gifts, often put in terms of “tribute”, that came over. Besides a small menagerie of exotic animals and Buddhist statues, there were learned monks and various books conveying continental teachings. At the same time that Yamato was starting to experiment with a new, foreign religion—Buddhism—they began to experiment with other foreign concepts as well. They had members of the court studying specific disciplines, and presumably passing those on to others.
I want to go more in depth into just what Yamato did and how they trans
(Touch on the Rank System and the 17 Article Constitution once again)
Now these 17 articles were almost all based on Confucian or Buddhist philosophy; clearly the Court was looking to the continent more and more for inspiration on how to govern, especially as it further expanded and solidified its grasp across the archipelago. Up to this point, much of that innovation had come through the Korean peninsula, by way of Silla, Goguryeo, and, most prominently, their ally Baekje. But no doubt they recognized that much of what was influencing those kingdoms had, itself, come from even farther away.
And so, this reign, the Chronicles record that Yamato once again sent envoys beyond their peninsular neighbors all the way to the Middle Country itself. This is significant as they were making direct contact with the mighty empire, the source of so many of the philosophical and scientific innovations that Yamato was trying to adopt. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, of course—we know of the cases of state of Na contacting the Han court, and then Himiko of the Wa during the Wei period, as well as several missions immediately after Himiko’s death. We also know of the five kings of Wa who reached out to the Liu Song court, though the Chronicles themselves are often silent on actual embassies, making it hard to tell exactly which reigns that occurred in, though it is generally agreed that one of those “Five Kings” was none other than Wakatakiru himself, Yuuryaku Tennou.
There may have been other missions. There seems to be some discussion amongst the Liang dynasty records that may indicate greater contact with Japan, but again, we don’t necessarily see that in the records themselves. Furthermore, with the fractured nature of the various dynasties since the Han period, and the various conflicts on the peninsula and in the archipelago, it would be understandable if there hadn’t been much direct diplomatic contact since about the time of Wakatakiru.
And so it is a pretty big thing that we not only have an envoy around the year 608, but that there appears to be agreement for it in the Sui history—though there is one glaring mistake: in the Nihon Shoki they clearly say that they sent envoys to the “Great Tang”, and not the Sui. However, this is fairly easily explained. By the 8th century, as the records were being compiled, the Tang dynasty was, indeed, in control of the Chinese court. In fact, the Tang dynasty was so admired by the Japanese of the day that even now the term “Karafu”, or “Chinese style”, uses the character for the Tang dynasty, rather than the Han. On the one hand it seems as though the scholars of the 8th century would surely have known of the Sui dynasty coming before the Tang, but it is also understandable that anyone would have just thought of the successive courts as a single continuity. Either way, I’ll talk about the Sui dynasty, and it is in the Sui dynasty records that we find the corresponding description of this embassy.
It starts on the 3rd day of the 7th month of 607. The Chronicles tell us that Wono no Omi no Imoko was sent to the Sui court, taking along Kuratsukuri no Fukuri as an interpreter. As you may recall, the Kuratsukuri, or saddle-makers, claimed a descent from Shiba Tattou, himself from the continent. It would make sense to take someone who could actually speak the language or, failing that, read and write it. This was a peculiar function of the Chinese language, since the various dialects, though often mutually unintelligible, still use the same characters.
Imoko, by the way, may have also had connections, but in this case it was to the Soga. We are told in the Nihon Shoki that Imoko was known in the Sui Court as “So Imko”, and the “So” character is the same as the first character in the name “Soga”. It is possible that Imoko was, indeed, a Soga family member, and the name Wono no Omi may have come later. Or it is possible that he was forgotten for some reason.
In the Sui history, we are told that in the year 607 there was an envoy sent with tribute from King Tarashihoko, which may have been another name for Kashikiya Hime, or perhaps it was simply an error caused by the problems with attempting to record foreign names in Sinitic characters.
According to the history as translated by Tsunoda Ryusaku and L. Carrington Goodrich, the envoy from Yamato explained the situation as such: “The King has heard that to the west of the ocean a Boddhisattva of the Sovereign reveres and promotes Buddhism. Accompanying the embassy are several tens of monks who have come to study Buddhism.” This is great as we see some of the things that the Japanese scholars left out—that there were Buddhists on this mission. For many, getting to the monasteries and temples of the Middle Kingdom was almost as good as making the trip all the way to India.
Over all, the embassy appears to have been largely successful in their mission. The ambassador, Imoko, came back with an envoy from the Sui, Pei Shiqing, along with twelve other individuals.
According to the Sui dynasty history, they first headed to Baekje, reaching the island of Chiku, and then, after seeing Tara in the south, they passed Tsushima and sailed out in to the deep ocean, eventually landing on the island of Iki. From there they made it to Tsukushi, and on to Suwo. They then passed through some ten countries until they came to the shore.
Now, Naniwa no Kishi no Wonari had been sent to bring them to court and they had a new official residence erected for them in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka. When they arrived, on the 15th day of the 6th month of the year 608, Yamato sent out thirty heavily decorated boats to meet them—and no doubt to make an impression as well. They met them at Yeguchi, the mouth of the river and they were ensconced in the newly built official residence.
Official entertainers were appointed for the ambassadors—Nakatomi no Miyatoko no Muraji no Torimaro, Ohohoshi no Kawachi no Atahe no Nukade, and Fume no Fumibito no Oohei. Meanwhile, Imoko continued on to the court proper to report on his mission.
Unfortunately, for all of the goodness that came from the whole thing, the trip had not been completely flawless. The Sui court had entrusted Imoko with a letter to pass on to the Yamato court, but the return trip through Baekje proved… problematic, to say the least. We are told that men of Baekje stopped the party, searched them, and confiscated the letter. It is unclear whether these were Baekje officials or just some bandits, but the important thing was that Imoko had lost the message, which was a grave offense. The ministers suggested that, despite all of his success, Imoko should be banished for losing the letter. After all, it was the duty of an envoy to protect the messages between the courts at all costs.
In the end, it was agreed that, yes, Imoko should be punished, but that it would be a bad look in front of their guests. After all, he had just represented them to the Sui Court, and so Kashikiya Hime pardoned Imoko of any wrongdoing.
A couple months later, on the 3rd day of the 8th month, the preparations had been made and the envoys formally approached the palace. There were met on the Tsubaki no Ichi road by 75 well-dress horses—the Sui history says two hundred—and there Nukada no Muraji no Hirafu welcomed them all with a speech.
After finally reaching the location of the palace, it was nine more days before they were formally summoned to present themselves and state their reason for coming. Abe no Tori no Omi and Mononobe no Yosami no no Muraji no Idaku acted as “introducers” for the guests, announcing who they were to the court. Then Pei Shiqing had the various diplomatic gifts arranged in the courtyard, and then presented his credentials to the court. Then, bowing twice, he gave his own account of why he had been sent—he announced greetings from the Sui emperor, recognized the work of Imoko, and then provided an excuse that the emperor himself could not make it due to his poor health. That last bit I suspect was a polite fiction, or perhaps an erroneous addition by the Chroniclers. After all, it isn’t like the Sui emperors were in the habit of just flouncing off to an unknown foreign land—especially one across the sea.
After delivering some polite niceties, Shiqing also provided a detailed list of all of the diplomatic gifts that they had brought.
The dance that happened next is telling. In order to convey Pei Shiqing’s letter to the sovereign, it wasn’t like they could just hand it. There were levels of protocol and procedure that had to be observed, and so Abe no Omi took the letter up and handed it to Ohotomo no Kurafu no Muraji, who in turn placed it on a table in front of the Great gate where Kashikiya Hime could then get it. This setup is similar to the later court, where only certain individuals of rank were actually allowed up into the buildings of the palace, whereas others were restricted to the ground.
After that formal introduction, there was a month or more of parties for the envoys, until finally they had to return to the Sui court. When they departed, they were sent with eight students and Imoko, who was bringing another letter to the Sui Court. The students were all scheduled to study various disciplines and bring the knowledge back to the Yamato court. But that wasn’t quite so special, or at least we aren’t given much more on the specifics of what the students brought back.. What really stands out in the Sui histories is the contents of the formal letter that Imoko was carrying, as it had a phrase that will be familiar to many students of this period of history, and which really connects across the Japanese and Sui histories, despite other inconsistencies. It read: “The Son of Heaven in the land where the sun rises addresses a letter to the Son of Heaven in the land where the sun sets. We hope you are in good health.” Or at least, that is how the Sui histories record it. In the Nihon Shoki they say something similar, “The Emperor of the East respectfully addresses the Emperor of the West.” Here, rather than using “Child of Heaven”, the author made use of the term “Tennou” when referring to the Yamato sovereign, and then different characters were used for the Sui emperor. At the same time, that is one of the reasons that I give more credence to the Sui history.. Of course, however you slice and dice this thing, there are some major airs being taken by the sovereign. Thus it is no wonder that, when the Sui emperor heard this, he was displeased, to say the least, and he told his minister that the letter was discourteous and should never again be brought to his attention. So that’s a whole mood.
The reason for this may be obvious, as the letter paints the sovereign of Japan as equal to the emperor of the Sui dynasty. That was indeed a bold claim. There is also the fact that they claim to be the land where the sun rises while the Sui are the land where the sun sets, which may have just been referencing east and west in a poetic fashion, but on another level it is almost as if they were talking about the rise of Yamato and the fall, or setting, of the Sui.
I would note that we still don’t see the term “Land of the Rising Sun”, or “Nihon”, used for the name of the country yet—one of the reasons I continue to refer to Yamato and not just “Japan”. However, all of this is in keeping with the traditions of the Wa people as we know them—the sun was given a special place in their worldview, as demonstrated linguistically, and not just through the legends curated in the 8th century. The Nihon Shoki mentions this letter, but not for this first
Certainly, as Japan continued to take on more and more trappings of the continental courts, they would eventually even take on the term Tennou—also read in Japanese as Sumera no Mikoto—to refer to the sovereign. This is basically saying that the sovereign is, indeed, a Heavenly Son, and which they would come to translate as “emperor”, in English. There would be other terminology and trappings that would reinforce this concept, which placed the sovereign of Japan in a position that at least locally seemed to be much more prestigious.
Imoko came back from this last diplomatic mission and was well beloved—some later sources even suggest that he may have been promoted for his diplomatic efforts. Oddly, however, we don’t really hear more, if anything, about Imoko, and he fades back into the past.
And so that covers much of the story of what Yamato was borrowing form the Sui and others during this period. Next episode—well, I’m honestly not sure what we’ll be covering next, as there is just so much. But stick around.
Until next time, 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

Lurie, D. B. (2011). Realms of Literacy: Early Japan and the History of Writing. Harvard University Asia Center. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt1x07wq2
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.
Kawagoe, Aileen (2009). “Caps and court rank: the Kan’i junikai system”. Heritage of Japan. Retrieved 10/1/2023.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

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Zentoku no Omi

Temporary Palace of Miminashi and the Move to Oharida

Introduction of the Hirami

Installation of the Buddha Image at Hōkōji

Baekje Priests Land at Ashigita

First Mention of Dazai

Tango no Sekku

Re-interment of Kitashi Hime

Shikomaro

Gigaku

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Timeline of Shōtoku Taishi’s Life

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Twelve Level Cap Rank System

Seventeen Article Constitution

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