A Bloody Start to a Golden Age

Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan

Apologies for any degradation of the sound quality. This was recorded while we were traveling, and the room setup was not ideal, so if sounds like I'm in a cave, you know why ;)

This episode we head over to the continent to kick off the Tang dynasty. The Tang dynasty was extremely influential on Yamato and later Japan, as well as the rest of East Asia. And so we'll take a look at how it got its start and how it expanded along the silk road, while at the same time talking about the literally cutthroat politics of the period. Especially in the royal house. Nobody fights like family.

For more information, check out the podcast webpage: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-104

Rough Transcript

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 104: A Bloody Start to a Golden Age

It was early in the morning on the fourth day of the sixth month of the ninth year of Wu De. Brothers Li Jiancheng, Crown Prince, and his younger brother, Li Yuanji, were more than a bit annoyed--Their brother had apparently slandered them to their father, the Emperor, claiming that they had had illicit relationships with his concubines. Although the accusations were false, they still had to come to the palace to clear their names. So they left the crown prince’s residence at the Eastern Palace and were traveling on horseback with a retinue of men through the private, forested royal park north of the city towards the Xuanwu Gate—the northern gate to the palace and to the great city of Chang’an.

As they approached Linhu Hall, they noticed something was afoot: there were soldiers in the park, headed their way. It was immediately apparent that the accusations had been a ruse, and their brother meant for more than just to tarnish their honor. As they fled eastward, back towards the Eastern palace, their brother, Li Shimin, came galloping towards them and called out to them. Li Yuanji tried to draw his bow, but couldn’t get to it in time, and Li Shimin shot and killed Li Jiancheng, their older brother and the crown prince.

Li Yuanji himself fell from his horse as he dodged arrows from the attacking troops, but Li Shimin also became entangled in the brush of the park and had to dismount. Li Yuanji ran up to his brother and tried to strangle him with his bow string, but soon he was chased off by reinforcements. Li Yuanji fled on foot to Wude Hall, where he was finally caught and struck down with arrows. Li Shimin’s forces struck off the heads of the two murdered princes, and took them to the Xuanwu gate, where opposing forces were still fighting. Seeing the heads of the two princes, it was clear that Li Shimin’s ambush was victorious, and the princes’ forces quickly dispersed.

Three days later, the victorious Li Shimin was instated as the new crown prince. Two months later, his father, Li Yuan, known to history as emperor Tang Gaozu, abdicated in favor of his son, who came to power as Emperor Taizong. This was the start of the Zhenguan era, which would come to be seen as a golden age in the history of the various Chinese empires.

---------------

Alright, so as may be apparent, we are deviating a bit from our discussion of Yamato to look at some of the events on the continent. This is because the rise of the Tang dynasty would have an incredible impact on the Japanese archipelago. For one, it was the alliance between the Tang and Silla that would eventually mean the removal of Yamato and its allies from the Korean peninsula. In addition, however, the Tang dynasty’s access to the silk road and its grandiose government would become an exemplar for Yamato and many other polities who wished to demonstrate their political and cultural sophistication. Many of the laws and even court dress would mimic that of the Tang court—with a local flare, of course. In addition, the Tang dynasty brought a relative stability to the continent that would last for over two hundred years. Of course, none of that was known at the outset, and like many previous kingdoms, the Tang dynasty was born out of bloodshed.

We’ve mentioned several times how the Sui Dynasty was growing increasingly unpopular in the late 6th and early 7th centuries. Wars continued to cost money and lives, as did the giant public works projects of the periods - though the Grand Canal would be one of the greatest constructions of any age, uniting the Yangzi and Yellow River basins in myriad ways, powering the regions’ economies for centuries to come.

Into this Sui period came a man of the Li family named Yuan. We mentioned him back in episode 102, but I figured he could do with a little more backstory. Li Yuan’s family originated in the frontier regions. Official biographies had connected him to the founder of the Western Liang dynasty, and his family had served in various roles as the different northern kingdoms rose and fell. The Li family had been providing military service since the time of Yuan’s great-grandfather, and Li Yuan himself had been serving since the early 600s. He was made a general and placed in charge of the Dongguang pass in the Taihang mountains. There, he largely stayed out of the limelight.

At one point, he was summoned to the palace and rather than going he feigned illness, instead. You see, around this time there was a prophecy flying around that someone with the surname of Li would try to take the throne from Sui Emperor, Emperor Yang, so it may have been in Li Yuan’s best interest to avoid the court and anything that could draw Emperor Yang’s suspicions. He continued to do everything in his power to make himself seem unthreatening, even as rebellions were breaking out across the Empire.

In 614, the Sui army was defeated by Goguryeo, and the Sui court was plagued by numerous uprisings. Li Yuan may have sat it out if it weren’t for his son, Li Shimin. Like many youthful individuals, Li Shimin was less than invested in the current administration. He and several of his close acquaintances began to scheme behind his father’s back, with plans to join the other uprisings and hope to take a piece of the pie. Eventually, they blackmailed Li Yuan into marching on the capital of Daxingcheng in 617, threatening to expose several illicit relationships from his time at the court—relationships that would have surely put him at odds with the Emperor. At the same time, Emperor Yang had fled to the southern capital along the banks of the Yangzi River, but his son and heir, Yang You, was still in the capital. Li Yuan marched on imperial city of Daxingcheng, near the ancient capital of Chang’an, claiming that he was coming to protect the young heir.

Taking control of the capital city put Li Yuan at odds with imperial forces, who did not necessarily accept Li Yuan’s altruistic claims. Li Yuan and his sons, including Li Shimin and Li Jiangcheng, were drawn into fighting. Even Li Yuan’s daughter, Pingyang, the wife of general Chai Shao, contributed to the war effort. She personally raised an army and led it into battle, becoming the first female general of what would be known as the Tang dynasty.

In 618, Emperor Yang of Sui was assassinated by another general, Yuwen Huaji, and the throne passed to his son, Yang You, known as Emperor Gong of Sui. However, Li Yuan pressured the newly made Emperor Gong to yield the throne to him. Since Li Yuan had inherited the title “Duke of Tang” from his paternal line, he used that as the name of his new dynasty, and became known as Tang Gaozu—the High Founder of Tang.

It wasn’t enough to simply take the throne, though. There were still many other warlords looking to take his place. After all, unification had only come about some thirty or forty years prior. Up to that point, there had been numerous, often competing kingdoms, especially in the north. It was quite possible that the Sui dynasty was just a fluke, and most people no doubt expected the empire to fall once more into chaos.

Still, although he definitely had to back it up with military might, often led by his sons and close confidants, Li Yuan went about the process of enacting his sovereignty. This included various state rituals, as well as a reform of the administration. For one thing, they renamed the capital. Daxingcheng had been built nearby the ancient capital of Chang’an, and so they renamed Daxingcheng to the ancient name of Chang’an.

In addition, he sought out various supernatural portents. He also enjoyed the support of various Daoists, who believed that the founder of Daoism, Laozi, was from the Li family. There was a belief at the time that a messianic ruler from the Li family would bring about the Daoist millennium. And to better understand that, it may be useful to understand a little bit about Daoism.

Daoism, first and foremost, is one of the more well known religions to come out of China, and often is found side by side what would seem to be its polar opposite, Confucianism. However, the two have more in common than one might at first assume.

The believed founder of Daoism is known as Laozi, though some later sources, including the Qin dynasty “Records of the Grand Historian”, by Sima Chen, would claim for him the name Li Er. Laozi was said to have been a scholar who abandoned the world, and as he was leaving the empire for parts unknown, an astute guard recognized him and requested that before he left that he write down his accumulated wisdom before he would let the old sage leave. That became the work known as the Dao De Jing, or the Classic of the Way and Virtue.

The opening of the Dao De Jing is rather famous:

Dao ke Dao, feichang Dao.

Or, according to one translation: The Dao that can be known is not the eternal Dao.

However, no English translation truly does the original justice.

Traditionally, Laozi is said to have been a contemporary of Confucius, and some of the earliest writings on him, in the Warring States period writings of Zhuangzi, often show Confucius in awe of Laozi. That said, most tend to agree that Laozi himself likely never existed, and that the Dao De Jing was assembled over the years from various poems and sayings that fit with the general theme of formlessness and a general concept of following the Way, a rather ill defined concept of natural order, one which humans are constantly pushing against, often to our detriment.

Truth is that both Confucius and Laozi—or whomever compiled the Dao De Jing—wrote about a thing called the “Dao” or “Way”. Confucius was often talking about the “Way of Heaven”, describing an ordered universe where balance was kept by everyone remaining in their proper place, creating a series of rules around strict, hierarchical relationships, such as those between a father and son, or the ruler and subject. According to Confucian thought, as long as things on Earth were properly ordered, that order would be reflected in the Heavens, and all of creation would be ordered as well.

In Daoism, it is much less about attempting to order the universe, but rather about giving in to your natural place in the universe. This is a much simplified version of both religions, but in general, where Confucianism tended to see serving at court as a virtue, Daoism tended to reject official life. For many court officials, they would embrace Confucian ideals in their official lives, but often seek out Daoist pleasures in their free time.

Religious Daoism, where it became more than simply a philosophical ideal, appears to have coalesced around the Han dynasty. There are Daoist temples, though in this instance it is often intertwined with many other Sinitic philosophies and beliefs. Thus things like the Queen Mother of the West and the Peaches of Immortality could be included in Daoist practice. Things like the Yijing, the Book of Changes, and various divination methods could also be included.

In many cases, “Daoist” seems to be used less to refer to a strict adherent to the philosophy of the supposed Laozi, and more as a general catchall for various folk beliefs. Thus many people see the images of the Queen Mother of the West on Han Dynasty mirrors imported to Japan as evidence of a Daoist influence on the archipelago, while others note the lack of the further panoply of religious accoutrements that we would expect if it was truly a “Daoist” influence, and not just a few folk beliefs that made their way across the straits.

However, by the time that Li Yuan was coming to the throne there was a thriving Daoist community in the Sui and burgeoning Tang dynasties, and if they believed that Li Yuan was an incarnation of Laozi—or at least a messianic descendant—who was he to dissuade them of such a notion?

Li Yuan reached back into the past in other ways as well. For one, he would reinstitute the Northern Wei “equal-field” system of state granted land, along with a system of prefectures and districts to help administer it. This was largely an effort to help fill up the coffers, which had been emptied by the Sui and constant warfare, while also emphasizing state ownership of land, with individuals being mere tenants. It also helped bring back into cultivation lands that had long lain fallow, often due to the constant fighting of the previous centuries.

In 621, Li Yuan ordered the minting of new copper coins to help stabilize the currency. Later Sui currency had been devalued by numerous forgeries as well as official debasement—mixing in less valuable metals to make the coins, while attempting to maintain the same denominations as before. These new coins were meant to restore faith in the currency, but shortages would continue to plague the dynasty throughout its history, leading to the use of cloth as a common medium of exchange and tax payment, something that was also common on the archipelago, along with other goods, in lieu of rice or money.

By 624, Li Yuan also announced a new legal code based on the old Han era code, although this was quickly expanded, since the needs of the code from the 3rd century

Now initially, for all of their claims to the entire geographic area of the Sui dynasty, the newly established Tang dynasty really only had effective control over a small are of Guanzhou—the area around Chang’an itself. Li Yuan hadn’t been the only one to rise up, and just because he had declared himself the new emperor didn’t mean that the other warlords were just giving up. It wasn’t like they had reached the end of a football match and everyone was now just going to go home.

And so he and his sons found themselves campaigning for at least the next five years, and that was against the active threats. Plenty of local elites, especially along the Yellow River basin, simply opted to hole up in their fortified settlements. After all, they had no guarantees that this new Tang dynasty would last longer than any of the others in the past several centuries. Often these local elites came under nominal vassalage of the Tang—and probably any other warlord that showed up—but in reality, based on how we see the Tang administration at work, it seems they were primarily left to their own devices, at least early on. After all, Li Yuan and his sons had plenty of active threats to worry about.

And it was definitely his sons who bore the brunt of the work. Li Jiancheng, the eldest son, who would eventually be named Crown Prince, and Li Shimin each took charge of various troops against the threats to the new Tang empire. And they were, for the most part, successful. They eventually brought a majority of the former Sui territory under their control, such that by 623 internal resistance had begun to wane, and by 624 the situation was largely under control.

At least internally. To the north and west there was another threat: The khaganate of the Göktürks.

Now for many people, if you hear “Turks” you might immediately think of the Ottomans in the region of modern Turkiye. However, that is not where the Turkish people originated from. In fact, the first mention of Turkic people appears to be out of the Altai mountains, in modern Mongolia, from around 545. They appear to have been a nomadic group, as were many of the people of the steppes of central Eurasia. By 551, only a short time after they were first documented by outside groups, they had established the Göktürk, or Celestial Turk, Khaganate, based in the Mongolian plateau. From there they expanded in the 6th century, at one point spanning from the Byzantine and Sassanid Persian empires in the west all the way to the kingdoms and empires of the Yellow River basin in the east.

Many of the ethnic Han kingdoms that clashed with the Göktürks instituted practices of basically paying them off to prevent raids and invasions of their territory. Shortly after the founding of the Sui dynasty, the Turkic Khaganate split in two, after the death of the khagan, and so the Sui and Tang were actually dealing with what we know as the Eastern Turkic Khaganate. They were known to the ethnic Han people as the Thuk-kyat people, a term that today is often transcribed as Tujue, due to the shift in Sinic pronunciation over time. “Tujue” is often how you’ll see it rendered in sources referencing Chinese documents.

The Eastern Turkic Khaganate remained an issue for the Sui and Tang dynasties. Initially, when the uprisings against the Sui began, the Göktürks actually pulled back for a bit, hoping to allow the internal conflicts to weaken their eastern neighbors, but as they saw the direction things were taking, with the Tang dynasty solidifying their power, they began to launch invasions and harass the border, forcing the Tang dynasty to send troops. Initially Li Yuan attempted to by off the Eastern Turks, as previous dynasties had done, but while they were happy to take his money, the invasions did not stop.

Eventually, things got so bad—and the internal conflicts were in a stable enough state—that Li Yuan, decided to send a force against them. A fairly straightforward decision, supposedly, except, well…

Throughout all of this conflict, Li Jiancheng and Li Shimin had been building up their own influence. Li Jiancheng, as the eldest son of Li Yuan, was the Crown Prince, but Li Shimin had built up his own power and influence, to the point that Li Jiancheng and his other brother, Li Yuanji, were starting to look at how they could take care of him before he got so powerful and popular that Li Yuan was tempted to make him Crown Prince instead of Jiancheng. At one point, Li Yuanji proposed inviting Li Shimin over and just having him killed, but Li Jiancheng balked at such direct and obvious fratricide.

Instead, Li Jiancheng reportedly pushed his younger brother into positions that would possibly get him killed, but Li Shimin continued to succeed, thwarting his brother’s plans and growing his own fame and power in the process.

Finally, Li Jiancheng decided to take a different approach, and he suggested to his father that the army to defend the empire against the Turks should be led by none other than Li Yuanji. This would mean moving a large portion of the army out from under Li Shimin’s command to his brother, Li Yuanji, who would also accrue much of the fame and respect if he proved successful. This was a huge blow to Li Shimin, who had heard rumors that his brothers were out to get him.

Before setting out on such a campaign, it would have been expected that Li Shimin and his other brothers turn out to wish Li Yuanji success in his campaign. That would have put Li Shimin in an extremely vulnerable position, where he could be arrested or even killed, without the usual protection of his own forces. And so Li Shimin decided to be proactive.

Before the campaign could set out, Li Shimin submitted accusations against Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji that they were having illicit relations with the concubines of their father, the emperor. This got Li Yuan’s attention, and he called both of his sons back to the palace to investigate what was going on. This is what led to that fateful incident known as the Xuanwu Gate Incident. Unbeknownst to Li Yuan or his other sons, Li Shimin had forces loyal to him take over the Xuanwu gate the night before Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji were to have their audience. Ideally, at least from Li Shimin’s position, they would have both been assassinated at Xuanwu gate, but as I noted at the start of the episode, things did not go exactly to plan. There were several moments where a single stray arrow could have completely changed the course of things, but in the end, Li Shimin was triumphant.

As the fighting was going on, Li Yuan heard the commotion. Apparently he had been out in a boat on the lake in the palace enclosure—and yes, you heard that right, the palace included a lake, or at least a very large pond, such that the emperor could partake in a lazy morning upon the water. When he heard the commotion, he guessed that the tensions between his sons must be at the heart of it, and even surmised that Li Shimin was likely behind it. He got to shore and surrounded himself with courtiers, including known comrades and acquaintances of his son, Li Shimin.

Eventually, a representative of Li Shimin arrived, and he told the court that Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji had risen up in rebellion, but that Li Shimin had had them both put to death. With Li Shimin’s troops literally at the gates of the palace, and Li Jiancheng and Li Yuanji not exactly able to defend themselves, the accusation stood. Several days later, no doubt under pressure from Li Shimin, Emperor Tang Gaozu, aka Li Yuan, officially made Li Shimin the Crown Prince. Two months later, he abdicated in favor of Li Shimin, who came to power as Tang Taizong in 626 CE. Li Yuan himself took on the title of Retired Emperor, and continued to live life in the palace, but with a much reduced impact on the political affairs of the empire.

Li Shimin himself took the reins of power immediately, and set about cementing his rule in several different ways. First off, to offset his particularly unfilial method of coming to the throne, Li Shimin engaged in performative Confucian virtue signaling. He played the part of the dutiful son, at least in public, providing for his retired father and attempting to act the part of the sage ruler. This was somewhat impeded by the cold relationship he and his father appear to have maintained after that point—apparently killing your siblings and forcing your father to abdicate are not exactly the kinds of bonding experiences that bring a father and son closer together. Still, that was mostly kept in the confines of the private areas of the palace. Publicly, he gathered accomplished military and civilian officials, and made sure to seek out their opinion.

The era of emperor Tang Taizong is known as the Zhenguan era, lasting from roughly 627 to 649, and it was considered to be synonymous with good governance by later historians and philosophers. Granted, most of the examples of good governance only lasted long enough for Li Shimin to establish himself in his position as emperor. Once he had solidified his power, and felt secure in his position, his rule changed to a more traditional and authoritarian model.

Regarding the threat of invasion from the Eastern Turkic Khaganate, Li Shimin met the Turks at the Wei River, where he accused them of invading Tang territory and demanded restitution. The Turks were impressed enough by his forces that they agreed to settle, offering thousands of horses and other goods, but Li Shimin declined their attempts to make it good. Eventually, Li Shimin supported some of the more disaffected members of the Turkic Khaganate in a coup, and by 630 the Eastern Turkic Khaganate and their gateway to the Silk Road was under Tang dynasty control. The Turks granted Li Shimin the title of Heavenly Khagan, placing him over both the Tang dynasty and the Eastern Turkic Khaganate.

He then went about resettling surrendered Eastern Turks while sending agents to foment rebellions and civil wars in the Western Turkic Khaganate, which controlled the area from Yumenguan, the Jade Gate, west of Dunhuang, all the way to Sassanid Persia. Dunhuang is an oasis city at the western end of the Gansu corridor, and the Jade Gate was considered to be the entry way to the Western Regions.

As Emperor Taizong, Li Shimin placed a puppet Khagan on the throne of the Western Turkic Khaganate in 642, and then sent numerous campaigns against the Western Turks in a series of wars against those who hadn’t simply given in to his will—first against the kingdom of Gaochang, a city cut from the rock of a giant plateau, and then on to the cities Karashr—known today by the Chinese name of Yanqi—and on to Kuqa. The campaigns would outlive Emperor Taizong himself, and the khaganate was completely annexed by 657, giving the Tang dynasty complete mastery over at least one part of the silk road out to Sassanid Persia and the west.

This would be huge, not only for the Tang dynasty, but for all of the cultures on the far eastern end of that silk road. There would be an increase in material and cultural items that traversed the routes. Chinese court dress even came to incorporate Turkic and Sogdian dress and clothing styles, which would eventually make their way to the Japanese archipelago, where they would take the tailored, round-necked collar designs for their own, eventually changing them, by the late Heian era, into their own distinctive garments.

It also opened a route to India for those Buddhist scholars who wished to go and study at the source, such as it was.

As for Emperor Taizong, by the 630s, with his title as Heavenly Khagan, Li Shimin seems to have stopped worrying about performative Confucian virtues. He took more direct control, and more often would quarrel with his ministers on various issues. In 637 he also reworked the Tang legal code, further refining the law.

At the same time, there were family matters he also had to attend to. It seems like father, like son—while Li Shimin’s eldest son, Li Chengqian was the Crown Prince, Shimin appeared to favor another son, Li Tai. As such, these two brothers became bitter rivals. Li Chengqian started to worry about his position as Crown Prince, and he consulted with some of his close advisors and confidants. Their solution was not to take his brother out of the picture, but rather to take his own father out of the picture. And so Li Chengqian reportedly entertained the idea of overthrowing his father, Emperor Taizong, at least as a thought experiment.

And really, at this point, I have some suspicions that Li Shimin might very well have been a bit of an absentee father, because does Chengqian even know whom he is talking about trying to coup?

Sure enough, Li Shimin learned about his sons extracurricular activities in 643 and he was less than happy with all of this. Li Chengqian’s defense, appears to have been that they only discussed it, they never went through with anything. As such, some of Chengqian’s conspirators were put to death, but Chengqian himself was simply reduced in rank to commoner status, stripped of his titles. When he died a few years later, though, Li Shimin had him buried as a Duke, and a later emperor would even posthumously restore his rank as an imperial prince.

Of course, the question came up as to just what to do about the Crown Prince. Li Tai seemed the obvious choice, as he had clearly impressed his father with his apparent talent and skill. However, it was pointed out that Li Tai’s competition with his brother is what had led to Chengqian’s fear and thoughts of rebellion in the first place. He hadn’t exactly been the model of filial virtue. In fact, if he hadn’t been scheming, none of this would have taken place. And so it was decided to pass him over and to create Li Zhi, a younger brother, as Crown Prince. Li Tai himself was demoted, though only down to a minor princely state, and exiled from Chang’an, making it extremely difficult for him to influence politics. Records of the time suggest this was an extremely difficult decision by his father, but one that he considered necessary for the responsible administration of government.

All of this was taking place in the early 640s, but it wasn’t the only thing that Li Shimin had on his mind. With the Turkic threat being handled in the west, the emperor let his ambitions get the better of him, and he turned his eyes towards Goguryeo, to his northeast. Previously, Emperor Yang of Sui had failed in his campaigns against Goguryeo, and that was one of the things that had led to the popular uprisings and rebellion that had taken down the dynasty. Now, Emperor Taizong seemed determined to succeed where the prior dynasty failed.

And so the Tang dynasty allied with the kingdom of Silla, hoping to force Goguryeo into a war on two fronts. Silla was already expanding on the Korean peninsula, and a natural ally for the Tang dynasty. Furthermore, they were far enough away that they weren’t an immediate threat if they decided to go back on their part of the deal.

Unfortunately for the Tang, these campaigns in 645 were not exactly a cake walk, and they handed Li Shimin his first defeat since the attempts to unify everyone under the Tang dynasty. Not exactly a great look. Relations with Goguryeo were normalized for a brief time, but then Emperor Taizong decided to give it another try. They started gathering ships and men for another invasion, no doubt having played out why they had lost the previous go round and hoping that it would be better in round two.

The invasions, however, would come to naught. As it was being prepared, Tang Taizong grew ill. He called off the invasion, and then, in 649, he passed away. His youngest son, the Crown Prince Li Zhi, came to the throne as Emperor Gaozong. The reign of him and his wife, Empress Wu Zetian, would have an enormous impact on the rest of the 7th century.

Through all of this fighting, bloodshed, and politics, this set the stage for the future of the Tang dynasty, which would once again place the area of modern China in the center of what many considered to be the civilized world. Besides being a center for Buddhist, Confucian, and Daoist religion, Chang’an became an extremely cosmopolitan city, with Sogdian and Turkic traders visiting the markets and establishing themselves in the city. Many foreign families would adapt over time, integrating into the culture of their new home.

These foreigners brought other ideas with them as well. Zoroastrianism, a Persian religion, may have come eastward much earlier, but in the 6th and 7th centuries, both Manichaeism and Christianity—at least an eastern version of Christianity—had made inroads into the capital of Chang’an. Manichaeism would have its ups and downs, especially in conflict with Buddhism. Christianity, on the other hand, was not necessarily the Christianity of Rome, but typically connected with the Syriac church that existed in the Persian empire, where it was a decidedly minority religion. Later proponents of Rome and the Latin rite would connect it with the supposed heresies of Nestorius, referring to the Church of the East as Nestorian Christianity, but this is not a term they would have used for themselves. These religions kept some of their traditions, but also incorporated some aspects of the culture of their new home, such as the use of rice in place of bread in some rituals.

This was an exciting time, and the court at Chang’an was fascinated with various customs of the Western Regions. Music, clothing, and even pasttimes were influenced by contact with the western lands. This would, in time, be passed on even to the archipelago. For instance, the pipa was an instrument that had origins in the Western regions. It is found in the area of modern China in at least the Northern Wei dynasty, but no doubt it grew more popular over time. A version of this same instrument traveled west to Persia, where it became the oud, and further on to Europe, where it became the famous lute. In the archipelago, the pipa became the Biwa, and while we can never be one hundred percent certain about early music, we have instructions from the Tang dynasty on music for the pipa, and Tang dynasty and early music, along with music from Goguryeo, came over to the Japanese courts in the form of gagaku, traditional Japanese court music, in the early 8th century.

Moving forward in our story about the Japanese archipelago, we are going to see more and more about the kentoushi, the Japanese embassies to the Tang dynasty, and just what they would bring back. At the same time, we will also see the reaction of the court to the alliance between the Tang and Yamato’s largest competitor on the Korean peninsula, Silla. That alliance, which outlived emperor Taizong and even the king of Silla, would dramatically shift the balance of power on the peninsula and in all of northeast Asia.

But we need to get there, first. For now, let’s move our gaze back across the waters to the archipelago, where Prince Tamura was about to take the throne, later becoming known as Jomei Tennou. Of course, he was dealing with his own politics, especially regarding the Soga house and the powerful hold they had over government. Next episode we will get back to just what was happening over there.

Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support.

If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.

Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at [e-mail].

Thank you, also, to Ellen for her work editing the podcast.

And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.