This episode talks about the rest of the inscription on the stele, and takes us through the invasion of Silla and other conflicts.. We’ll also touch on King Silseong and his rise to power.

A lot of the discussion of this period revolves around the question of who are being referred to as the “Wa” (倭) and debates over just what was the state of the archipelago—pun fully intended. While it is hard to say exactly who might have been included as “Wa”, we might be able to shed a bit more light on this concept of statehood, which sometimes may seem to be splitting hairs for those not entirely familiar with the concept.

First off, I think we all are well familiar with the idea of the modern nation state, which is how most modern countries are organized. But where is that line between early societies—organized in family units, clans, or even villages—and then what we think of as a state, with an organized bureaucracy and some form of centralized authority?

There are plenty of early titles that seem to indicate some level of authority among the Wa, and there seem to be various paramounts with authority. Early on there are discussions of even a kind of taxation system. At what point do the traditions of the culture get codified into laws? How much were things held together through the personal charisma of a given leader vice some larger state apparatus?

The formation of the kofun is a good indicator. With the kofun, you had to mobilize a large amount of labor, meaning that you needed influence and organization to do so. But just how far did that organization extend? Was it centralized in the court? Or was it a series of family alliances, with the elites in various regions paying a kind of tribute up the social ladder, but maintaining direct control of what happened in their own lands and under their own authorities?

Without clear evidence, it is very difficult to say. Furthermore, because of the language used to describe everything, the Chroniclers uses sinographic characters with meaning over on the continent that may be used in an overblown sense in the archipelago.

And so, even if we don’t see a “state” as such over the archipelago, we may see hegemons who are able to command large forces and draw on a variety of resources—possibly even speak for the archipelago on various matters, but do they have the kind of organization that we would refer to as a state?

If we do believe we have a central state, how far did the “state” actually control?

These are all questions that make this period interesting but also frustrating to study—and perhaps it would be easier if our sources were more trustworthy. But that’s what we have.

Specific questions or comments? Feel free to post them, below.

Haniwa depiction of a boat from the 5th century. Was the Karano just a larger version of this?

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 45: The Stele of Gwangaetto the Great, Part II
So last episode, in Part I, we talked about the stele of Gwangaetto the Great, and how useful a historical resource it is, since it was erected shortly after the period of time it describes—starting in 391—and therefore is fairly close to the action. Of course, that doesn’t remove its own biases, such as attempting to aggrandize King Gwangaetto of Goguryeo, the ancient ruler the stone was created to eulogize in the first place. It also doesn’t mean that it is perfect—there are plenty of lacunae in the inscription and the ancient sinographic script is open to various interpretations by modern scholars. And that is without the modern political and cultural issues surrounding the stone, its finding, and its use as propaganda in the early 20th century, which leaves us with some controversial and questionable interpretations. Nonetheless, it is the closest we have to an eye witness to this period and thus we find ourselves piecing together the story in the inscription along with those in the Japanese and Korean Chronicles—specifically the Nihon Shoki, the Kojiki, the Kujiki, and the Samguk Sagi. Where possible, we are also trying to square this with the archaeological evidence as well.
As a reminder, this is all ostensibly happening during the reign of Homuda Wake, though that is hard to corroborate. The Korean sources don’t mention a Wa king by name, and although there are episodes we can match up between the Japanese and Korean chronicles it is by no means certain that everything is in the appropriate chronological order. Still, it is what we have to work with—the truth, as you might say, that the Chroniclers left us with—and so it is the story that we have to go off of at this time.
So far that has left us with the story of a powerful Goguryeo state in 391 who was making claims, justified or not, on both Shilla and Baekje as tributary or subordinate states. Certainly Silla seems to have been in some kind of direct relationship with Goguryeo, while Baekje was more on again and then violently off again. Goguryeo of course did not find any fault in their own belligerent activities, but blamed disorder on the peninsula largely on the Wa, whom they seem to have seen as the primary disruptors of the peace.
We discussed the conflicts with Baekje and the eventual death of King Jinsa of Baekje, followed by the ascension of king Asin of Baekje and his reinvigoration of the alliance with the Wa, despite—or perhaps because of—Goguryeo’s invasion and forced subjugation of Baekje, including the delivery to the Goguryeo court of top officials of the Baekje court. King Asin sent his own son, Crown Prince Jeonji, as a hostage to the Yamato court to help reinforce the good relations between those two allies, and then he turned around and began and aborted attempt at a military campaign against their northern rivals.
Meanwhile, the Wa had been continuing their own on again, off again attacks against Silla, who was ruled at this time by King Naemul, the first Silla king that we know from external records to have actually existed, as he sent emissaries to the Eastern Jin court. King Naemul had previously sent a nephew as a hostage to Goguryeo, hoping to enlist that more powerful state as an ally in their own struggles against Baekje and the Wa.
Now, the Silla Annals in the Samguk Sagi claim that the Wa attacked in 393, and that they encircled the capital of Geumseong, at modern day Gyeongju, besieging them for about five days. The soldiers of Silla wanted to go out and take the fight to the Wa troops, or so we are told, but the King told everyone to just sit tight—eventually they would have to leave. This actually seems to have been the tactic most often used in similar accounts in the past. The Samguk Sagi claims that the besieging Wa forces did eventually give it up and began to head back to their ships, at which point the Silla troops were able to heroically sally forth and attack them as they retreated.
The whole encounter leaves me with some questions, but the large question is perhaps why they mention this event, which may, perhaps, have been the impetus on the stele for saying that the Wa had subjugated Silla in the early 390s, but then the Annals don’t mention the other, seemingly much greater conflict in 399 and 400s.
You see, according to the stele, around 399, King Gwangaetto learned that Baekje and the Wa had formed an alliance, and he marched south from Jian to the fortifications at Pyongyang. I suspect that he was intending to punish Baekje for breaking their agreement—one suspects he may have already dealt with the hostages in one form or another, as we don’t hear from them again, but if so, that probably wasn’t enough.
Whatever he may have been planning, however, things changed when he got to Pyongyang, as a messenger arrived from his ally, King Naemul of Silla. According to the message, the Wa were at it again and had invaded that country. As a nominal vassal to the Kingdom of Goguryeo, Silla requested King Gwangaetto’s assistance in removing the Wa from their lands.
King Gwangaetto sent the messenger back with a promise to help, and assurances for the king for Silla. He then made sure to gather all of his forces and they marched down to Silla together.
If the stele is to be believed, this was perhaps one of the largest forces the peninsula had ever seen. It claims that there were 50,000 soldiers in the army that marched south. Even accounting for the exaggerated numbers that were typical of the time, it seems undeniable that it was a large and, shall we say, persuasive force.
It is not quite clear to me if the forces that were occupying Silla at this time were just Wa, or if was a combined Baekje-Wa alliance. The stele gives the Wa top billing, but unfortunately this section is one of the most heavily damaged sections of the stele, leading to a lot of potential interpretations depending on the reader. My sense, however, is that it was likely Baekje and Wa, and possibly some of their allies from Kara as well. That most of the stele seems to rail against the Wa could have been for a variety of reasons, including not wanting to give Baekje too much credit in the campaign—perhaps even trying to hold onto some sense of the fiction that Baekje was a Goguryeo subject and not a rival kingdom.
Now, does anyone remember watching Game of Thrones, and how, when they finally got to the Battle of Winterfell, everything was so dark you couldn’t actually make out any of the action? Yeah, that’s what reading this section of the stele feels like. All of a sudden there are a huge number of missing characters, which no doubt were recounting the triumphs of the Goguryeo soldiers, but most of it is gone, forever lost to history. But at least we can get the gist of it.
What we can be sure of is that Goguryeo repelled the Wa forces and their allies, and pushed them out of Silla. But they didn’t stop at the borders. Gwangaetto and the Goguryeo forces continued with their advance, pushing to the southernmost tip of the peninsula. The stele tells us that the Ara—one of the Kara states—also joined in the fighting, though I’m hard-pressed to tell you whose side they were on, exactly. Eventually, though, the Wa—and likely Baekje—forces gathered at a fortress in the country of Nimna-Gara, which appears to have been somewhere along the southern coast. There they held out for as long as they could, but eventually the fortress fell.
Nimna will show up later in the Japanese chronicles as an allied state, though the nature of that alliance has been contested. Some have even suggested that this could be related to the state of Thak-syun, who had helped facilitate the earlier alliance between Baekje and Yamato. It does show up in the chronicles in an entry with a corrected date of about 396, which claims that Men of Goguryeo, Baekje, Nimna, and Silla all attended the Yamato court, and they were then made to dig a pond, known as the Pond of the Men of Kara—which honestly sounds more like the story of people captured in war and raids and then put to work than any kind of official envoy, but it still is notable for its inclusion among the other kingdoms of the peninsula.
Whatever its status at this time, we will definitely see them later on in the narrative, but this is the first reliable instance of a place by this name, and given the contemporary nature of the stele, well, despite concerns about possible exaggeration on numbers and just how firm things like “subjugation” really were, I think we can have some reasonable confidence that a place called Nimna—known as Imna in Korean and Mimana in Japanese—existed. This was a pretty big deal for the Japanese when they first found it, as much of Japan’s later claims to anything on the peninsula would hearken back to the idea that there was an ally-turned-puppet state-turned Japanese colony on the peninsula until it was wiped out in the wars that would eventually see the peninsula united under a single kingdom. We’ll probably be referencing this again in the future as Nimna—or Mimana—coms to play a larger part in our narrative. For now, we’ll just leave it there in the stele, with the idea that they at least appear to be allied with the Wa at this point in the late fourth century.
Now, I have to admit, I find this whole story rather incredible. Not only for the broken glimpse it gives us into the wars swept through the peninsula at this time, but for the fact that it seems to have not been recorded anywhere else that I can see. It is somewhat understandable that it isn’t in the Baekje or Yamato histories—why would they want to memorialize such a defeat? It may be understandable that it is not found in the Silla annals—unless the earlier account from 393 is expected to cover this period. But the real question is: Why would this not have been included in the Goguryeo annals, at least? Instead, the Goguryeo annals record these years as ones of defeat at the hands of the King of Yan, a rivalry that never makes its way onto the stele.
It is possible that the original records were lost. Or they just weren’t considered important enough by later scribes to include. As we mentioned last episode, the stele itself seems to have been abandoned and forgotten, and so if written annals for this period were not available to the later chroniclers then they may have only been working with external sources.
Or, perhaps, the victory wasn’t all it was cracked up to be on the stele. Sure it was an impressive feat, but was it truly as all-encompassing a defeat as the stele seems to portray?
Whatever the reason, we are left to wonder about just what happened here.
Now, speaking of the stele, what happened when Goguryeo had defeated the Wa and their allies? Did they turn on Baekje and march on their capital? Did they consolidate their power and install governors over the southern territories? Did they exact tribute on the Kara states?
Actually, the stele doesn’t record any of that. Instead, they just seem to have withdrawn their troops. There is no mention of taking more prisoners or hostages. No indication that they required submission and further subjugation. Nor did they march back up through Baekje and take out their anger on them.
Now it is possible that Baekje wasn’t very involved. Perhaps, despite the alliance between the Baekje and the Wa, this was really more of the Wa and other allies on the peninsula, and Baekje wasn’t involved at all. That seems odd, however, given that the authors of the stele’s inscription seem to make a point of how Baekje and Wa had made another alliance, angering Goguryeo. Why would that be mentioned at the top of this particular conflict if it wasn’t relevant?
I have a couple theories on that point. First, I wonder if Baekje was seen as subjugated by the Wa, and therefore, portrayed as they were as the junior partner, it was the Wa, and not Baekje, that Goguryeo focused on. This could also be a bit of politicking—after all they still claimed Baekje as a vassal state, but the Wa were clearly viewed as an external threat. I wonder if this didn’t lead the court to focus the story on the evil Wa and downplay, to some extent, the role that Baekje had played. Heck, if that were the case, it is even possible that Baekje played a much greater role and may have been the lead figure in the invasion force, and they were just written out of the story because it didn’t fit the narrative.
Unfortunately, we just don’t know, and we can speculate all we want, but without more evidence I doubt we’ll reach any firm conclusions.
There is still the question, though of why Goguryeo didn’t do more to solidify their victory, as they had done against Baekje, earlier.
Perhaps they trusted Silla to handle things on their own. Or they just couldn’t keep their troops in the field for too long—a large force, whether 50,000 troops or smaller, was likely a significant portion of the Goguryeo forces, and Goguryeo had expanded significantly. Plus, as the saying goes, “an army marches on its stomach”, and they had traveled a fair distance away from their traditional lands. Even with their victories, I doubt they could exactly rely on the local populace to be friendly and submissive. So sure, they could bring the violence, but once that was over, where do you go from there?
Furthermore, they had other problems. Indeed, as I mentioned before, the Goguryeo annals claim that King Gwangaetto was involved in a separate conflict with the King of Yan—a conflict that must not have been going too well as it never seems to have made it onto the stele. Yan reportedly marched some 30,000 troops across the border with Goguryeo in response to a perceived slight. Perhaps the date on that was slightly off, and that is why Goguryeo forces were pulled back, or perhaps they just didn’t want to leave themselves exposed for any longer than they had to.
Or perhaps the victory wasn’t quite as complete as the stele makes it out to be. Perhaps they had chased their enemies off the Peninsula and back to the archipelago, but were they equipped to follow them?
Whatever the reasons there seems to have been an uneasy peace that existed, though perhaps that was due, in part, to droughts and famine that are mentioned in the Samguk Sagi across the peninsula in the succeeding year. And so it seems that Goguryeo was handling its affairs in the north, and Baekje and Silla were rebuilding and working their way through drought and famine. If there were more attacks, the record seems to be silent.
Then, in 402, the King of Silla, Isageum Naemul, died. According to Silla’s annals in the Samguk Sagi, he had been ruling for almost 50 years, starting in 356. Even if it hadn’t been that long, he is recorded in the Jin court chronicles as having sent an embassy in 381, so he had at least been on the throne for the past 20 years, which was nothing to sneeze at. Quite likely he was the longest reigning king in the region at that time.
That said, his death formed an interesting transition. Despite having several sons of his own, they did not succeed him—not directly. King Naemul had several sons, whom one would expect would have inherited the throne, but we are told they were still young, and so Prince Silseong, who had been a hostage in Goguryeo for the past decade, returned and took on the title of Isageum, or King. One can imagine that this must have only further cemented the alliance between Goguryeo and Silla—the King of Silla wasn’t simply a friend of Goguryeo, but he had spent the last decade in the Goguryeo court. He knew the court, the nobility, and likely knew King Gwangaetto as well. In fact, it is hard not to see the hand of the Goguryeo Court itself in this move, ensuring that they have a friendly ruler overseeing Silla for them.
And that may be why we don’t get Silseong merely as a regent—he seems to have desired more than that. He did marry his daughter to King Naemul’s eldest son, Prince Nulchi. But he would eventually send off Nulchi’s two younger brothers, Misaheun and Bokho, as hostages themselves.
Of particular interest to our narrative is the position of Prince Misaheun. It seems that as soon as Silseong came to the throne in Silla he sent Misaheun as a hostage—but not to Goguryeo as one might think. Instead, he reached out to an unlikely source—the King of the Wa.
Now this seems rather odd, doesn’t it? It isn’t as if the Wa and Silla had been exactly friends. And hadn’t the Wa just taken a severe drubbing from their last run-in with Silla and their Goguryeo allies? So why is Misaheun being sent to the Wa as a hostage?
And this isn’t just in one source. Both the Silla Annals in the Samguk Sagi and the Japanese Chronicles record the incident—though the Japanese chronicles do have a few issues with just where and when it is all happening, as the story got sliced up a bit in the Cuisinart of the Chroniclers own fumbling around with the chronology. Still, it seems likely it actually did happen, so what is up?
One option is that the dates are off. It is possible that Misaheun wasn’t sent to Wa by his uncle, King Silseong, but rather by his father, King Naemul. This is the story given in the Samguk Yusa, and it is dated to about 391.
According to that source, the Wa envoys of the time denounced Baekje’s attacks on Silla and then demanded that Silla return their courtesy by sending a prince to their court. This was around the time of King Jinsa of Baekje—he was the one who noped out of the fighting with Goguryeo, somehow got himself on the outs with Yamato, and eventually died, somewhat suspiciously, during a quote-unquote “hunting trip”, so perhaps there really was some truth to this. According to the story, King Naemul sent 10 year old Prince Misaheun—named Mihae in the Samguk Yusa story, but clearly the same person—back with the Wa. Of course, shortly thereafter the Wa found a new friend in Baekje’s King Asin, and the Samguk Yusa tells us that the Wa immediately treated Prince Misaheun not as an envoy but as a hostage, holding him as leverage over the Silla Kingdom. He would remain in Yamato for the next three decades.
Of course, it is possible that the truth lies somewhere in the middle—sending royal hostages certainly seems to have been a diplomatic tool that we see showing up in this period, and we’ve seen them sent proactively, to help cement an alliance—as was the case with Silseong of Silla and Jeonji of Baekje—but we also have seen them taken by force, such as Goguryeo’s abduction of King Jeonji’s own brother and ten high court officials. Personally, I tend to lean towards that explanation—especially if the invasion of Silla by the Wa and their allies was as complete as the stele makes it sound.
The Silla annals also impart a bit of bias on King Silseong’s part—upset that he had been sent away at such a young age to a foreign court by his own brother, he decided to do the same thing to his brother’s sons, exiling Misaheun to Yamato and eventually sending another nephew to Goguryeo and then, ultimately, attempting to kill the eldest of the three, Prince Nulchi. Thus, the exile of Prince Misaheun may have just been easier for the scribes to pin on Silseong, clearing the name of the revered King Naemul of any failure or misstep.
Either way, King Silseong seems to have garnered some ire from the Chroniclers—possibly for good reason, or possibly because they considered him tainted given his time in Goguryeo. Remember, he hadn’t been living in Silla for the past decade, and if the youngest of Naemul’s sons, Misaheun, was already 10 years old in 391, then that would suggest that his brothers were at least 20 years old, if not more—hardly children at the time, and not so young that one would expect they would need a regent. My personal head canon is that Silseong was likely forced on the Silla court by Goguryeo, and likely leveraged his Goguryeo allies to stay in power. That likely would have done little to endear him to his Silla subjects, and may also explain his attempts to prune the royal line, as it were.
Whatever the reason that Misaheun was sent—whether as an envoy or forced to go at swordpoint—if Silla was hoping that, like Baekje, this would give them some kind of leverage with the Wa—or at least respite from their raids—they were mistaken. The Baekje-Wa alliance under King Asin was strong, and Wa ships continued to plunder the coast.
Speaking of Wa ships, there is one more item of note on the stele having to do with Wa, and it is, frankly, the most difficult of the various claims for me to fully believe. According to the stele, in 404, a Wa fleet arrived at the district of Daifang, the location of the old Daifang commandery, which had fallen to Goguryeo at the start of the 4th century.
We aren’t told exactly what the purpose of such a fleet was—were they simply trying to assist their ally, Baekje, reclaim some of the territory they had lost? Was this an attempt to strike at the heart of Goguryeo and repay them for being kicked out of Silla? Or was it something else? But whatever the purpose, we can be sure they didn’t have Goguryeo’s best interests at heart.
Once again, I’m left to wonder if this was really just the Wa, or if the Wa are just the big scary bogeymen used on the stele. In later centuries it is almost a trope that any pirates, especially in northeast Asia, are attributed to the Wa and the Japanese archipelago. Known as “Wakou” by the mainland—the Japanese typically refer to them as “Kaizoku”, or similar—their reputation was such that almost any raids or violence was attributed to them, whether or not any Japanese were actually involved. It may be that such a reputation was already well-established in this much earlier period.
If so, this could as easily have been a combined fleet—possibly sponsored by Baekje. After all, Daifang is a little farther out than the Wa have typically been traveling—most of their raids so far have been recorded as against Silla and the eastern side of the Korean peninsula, rather than along the Yellow Sea shoreline, most of which was under the control of their ally, Baekje. It would have been extremely odd, therefore, to sail a fleet all the way to Daifang without Baekje’s support. Once again, I suspect Baekje played a larger part in this than they are given credit for.
Unfortunately, once again we just don’t know. What we do know, at least from the stele, is that Goguryeo successfully repelled the invasion, but once again this isn’t recorded in any of the 8th century or later chronicles, whether in Japan or Korea. Once again, perhaps the Chroniclers left out potentially embarrassing episodes in the other sources.
The rest of the stele then continues with King Gwangaetto’s military conquests. It is no wonder that he was known, posthumously, by this moniker, Gwangaeeto: The King who expanded the territory. The other two campaigns mentioned on the stele were a dispatch of troops to either Baekje or Houyen in 407 and the subjugation for “Tung-fu-yu” in 410. The king finally died in 412 or 413, and his tomb and stele seem to have been erected in 414.
Regrettably, that’s all we have from this period—at least in writing. Our next window, outside the Chronicles and archaeological finds, will come at the end of the 5th century in the form of the Song Shu, which will provide some glimpse into five named kings of Wa—but that will need to wait, for now.
Speaking of archaeology, though, what do we see there? Well, starting in the 5th century we see more and more evidence of Korean technology coming to the archipelago. In the Kawachi area in the 5th century we see the rise of Sue ware, which is very similar to a type of pottery found on the peninsula, and we see the development of more and more iron smithing, as well as horses and their associated accoutrements. Whether through conquest or friendship, it is clear that the archipelago was continuing to grow from its contact with the peninsula.
But, as I said, this is still where the text on the stele ends, leaving us with just our familiar companions, the Chronicles and the Korean Annals to help us make sense of what we see in the archaeological record. And as you may have sensed throughout this episode, there isn’t exactly a full agreement between the various sources. While the Stele may have exaggerated various actions, and was possibly even off by a year or two here or there, it was written during the living memory of the events it records. It was likely that they had people who could help them and who remembered what had happened, at least regarding Goguryeo. In contrast, our written sources were all compiled hundreds of years later, and we no longer have the original documents they used to compare them to. There are a few other things as well.
First, there is still the question of who are the “Wa”. Even in the Chronicles, we are confronted with this to an extent, as the Chroniclers used an extant copy of Baekje’s chronicles—along with other continental records—when they put together their own history. They weren’t just going off of the old court records and insular oral histories, but they were using other sources. And since, at that time, “Wa” was known as another name for the country of Japan, it is easy to understand how they would assume that all of those events were actually part of the Yamato court, which, at least at this point, was said to be headed up by Homuda Wake.
Many of the records, though, may have only mentioned the “Wa” or the “King of Wa”, without naming names. Without names, it really is difficult to tell if they are talking about the court of Yamato or if they are talking about other, ethnically Wa groups in Kyushu or elsewhere. Many archaeologists still seem unsure about the overall cohesion of the archipelago at this time. Could a sovereign ruling out of the Kinki region—whether the Nara basin or the Kawachi plain—actually mobilize enough people from across the islands, like the stele and other accounts would seem to claim?
I really struggle with this, and I think part of it goes to definitions of “state” and “kingship”. And I think we get a hint of this from the Japanese word for the sovereign around this time: Ohokimi. This term, which I believe is first written down in relation to Homuda Wake’s successor, was likely the actual term used for Homuda Wake as well. He wouldn’t have been Tennou or, as it was read in a more natural Japanese sense, Sumera no Mikoto, as that was clearly a later title, and so Homuda Wake—and possibly others before him, were likely Ohokimi, a term we see glossed with the sinographic character for “King”. But what does that really mean?
Well, I can’t say for certain, but I would point out that we see “Kimi” as a common title in the chronicles, and it appears to reference important people and families—perhaps even the ancient rulers—of various countries in the archipelago, such as Izumo, Kibi, Izumo, etc. It would be natural to assume, then, that Ohokimi was simply the Great Kimi, or the Great Lord—or perhaps the great sovereign or king.
To be honest the only thing that makes real sense to me, from the period of Queen Himiko to our present point in the narrative, is that there must have been networks of alliances, more like a kind of confederation, with Yamato as a nominal head. Even as the dynasties changed and the courts moved about the Kinai region, I find it telling that the name “Yamato” appears to have persisted from the period of Queen Himiko up through the current. Even in the unified period of the Sengoku period, there were identities tied up in the ancient provinces—what used to be the old independent states of the archipelago. That would indicate that even if the territory and even dynasties may have shifted some over time, the name itself seems to have held some cachet and identity with the people throughout the centuries.
Personally, I suspect that the Wa were not a unified state, but neither should we assume that they were all acting unilaterally. Rather, I tend to think that the ruler in Yamato may have acted in a role that was, quite often, primus inter pares—the first among equals. I see a parallel in how the shogunal authorities managed affairs, and even during the powerful reign of the Tokugawa there were those domains that were more independent, held together less by the strict threat of violence and more through an intricate web of politics and consequences.
If that were not the case, then we are left truly wondering: Who are these Wa that are apparently having such an effect on the continent that they are a thorn in the side of King Gwangaetto the great? Why would they be mentioned in so many of the conflicts that were ongoing? Why would Silla and Baekje be sending their princes as hostages?
Hopefully this will get somewhat easier as we move through the 5th century and cover the rest of this Middle Dynasty. Over time, Yamato authority would continue to expand. Where they previously had direct control over the Nara Basin, the Middle Dynasty seems to have had direct control over a larger area, but I suspect that just means that they had a more indirect control over the rest of the islands. This is portrayed, in the Chronicles, as a divine imperial authority, but that is no doubt an exaggeration. Still, the evidence that we have so far does seem to suggest that the Wa could somehow field enough troops to be of concern to their peninsular neighbors.
Speaking of which, there is a story in the Chronicles that I think might fit well in here. It is the story of a ship, of all things: The Karano.
The Karano was built, we are told, by the people of the country of Izu. This country was located on the mountainous, forested peninsula of the same name, at the eastern edge of modern Shizuoka prefecture, south of Mt. Fuji, between Sagami and Suruga Bays. This ship was tremendous for its day—the chronicles say it was 10 rods long, which is estimated to be around 100 feet in length. For reference, that is just 17 feet shorter than the Santa Maria, the flagship of Christopher Columbus when he sailed from Europe to the Caribbean. This thing must have been massive for its day, and it said to have been fast, as well—likely because of the number of rowers it could accommodate.
Now, as usual, we may be getting a bit of hyperbole in all of this. I doubt someone took a measuring stick out, and if they did, that it was precisely written down. I’m not even sure if the measurements they use—often translated as “rod”—were actually the lengths we ascribe to them. Many of these kinds of measurements could vary slightly from place to place until there was a single authority to provide a standard. And most of the time it didn’t matter. Whether it was 60 feet long or 100 feet long the point was that it was big.
And what was the purpose of building large ships if not to carry lots of men and equipment?
The Karano—meaning “Light and Swift—was built around 394, and it was supposedly called that because, well, was said to be light and swift. Based on when it was built, it would have been in service for most of the encounters on the peninsula. It remained in service until about 420, a total of 26 years, but by the end of that time, it was done. Seawater and time are not kind to wooden vessels, and over time, it started to break down. We are told that it had rotted out and was in disrepair. And so they decided to honor the ship, which had doubtless seen its share of action by then. They disassembled the ship and decided to use the wood to burn seaweed for salt, which would, in turn, be sent out to the various countries in return for ships, built as the spiritual ancestors of the grand Karano.
The salt fires were lit, and the salt collected, but at the end of it, they realized that not all of the wood had burned through. Some of it had survived, and so they took the unburnt wood and made a zither, or koto, and a song was composed to commemorate the event.
By the way, the fleet of ships? Well, they didn’t fare quite so well as the Karano. Apparently as they came in they were gathered as a fleet in Muko Bay. As they were sitting there, likely pulled up onto the beach, a fire broke out in the buildings on shore. Apparently the fire quickly spread and it must have caught the boats, and the entire fleet went up in flames.
So once again we have a story emphasizing the nautical nature of Yamato’s power, and describing some truly impressive ships for the time. Even if they are exaggerations, we can see that it was an important aspect of the culture and people of the 4th and early 5th century archipelago. A people we will try to get to know more in subsequent episodes.
But for now, that’s probably enough. Thank you for listening, and I hope you were able to follow along. This period is confusing, but fascinating at the same time. Perhaps the main takeaways are the chaos and violence on the peninsula, which are often times of growth and change, and the involvement of the Wa in so much of what was going on. Plus the various alliances—in particular that of Baekje and Yamato. This would be crucial in later years.
Of course, there is a lot more to come—we haven’t even touched on our long lived prime minister, Takechi no Sukune, and I want to introduce another figure of some note, whom we have perhaps briefly made mention of, Kazuraki no Sotsuhiko. We’ll also go into details on just what became of the princely hostages. There is so much going on this reign, I don’t think we’ll cover all of it—we probably don’t need to talk about the 200th time that the Silla coast was raided, for instance, but we’ll see where the narrative takes us.
So, until next time, thank you for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us on iTunes, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate through our KoFi site, kofi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the link over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Questions or comments? Feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.
That’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

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Rough Transcript

References