***
BUYING RANK CHEAPLY
“I’ve never cared personally for titles and honors, but I knew that in this era they mattered very much. I saw the motions of the waves and tides, son, and I recognized that sometimes we can acquire needed titles cheaply, and at other times they are devastatingly expensive. Though we did not need the name ‘Tokugawa’ in 1567, it was cheap to acquire that rank – and lo, where would be now without it?”
The Imperial Court of Kyoto was technically in charge of all of Japan. Every warlord that took action would typically say they were doing it in defense of the Emperor.
In reality, the Emperor had no power at this time, and would not have power again until the Meiji Restoration – revolution, really – over 250 years later in 1868.
Yet, the Emperor could grant important ceremonial titles.
In 1567, Ieyasu received the name he would use for the rest of his life – “Tokugawa Ieyasu” – changing his name from “Matsudaira Motoyasu.”
In doing this, he claimed descent from legendary Minamoto nobility 750 years earlier, and claimed his bloodline lineage descended directly from the revered Emperor Seiwa (who had reigned from 858-876 AD).
This was probably the only moment in his life that he could have gotten the title unchallenged – Nobunaga was now on the verge of being able to lead an invasion into Kyoto, and the Imperial Court wanted all the potential help it could get – diplomatically, militarily, politically… anything, really. Granting the title to Ieyasu was an inexpensive gamble at winning a potentially important ally.
Meanwhile, Nobunaga had not consolidated power yet – having one of his most loyal senior allies be descended from an ancient bloodline suited him just fine at this moment. Tokugawa Ieyasu was defending the Oda Clan forces from assault from the east, and having a descendant of Seiwa nobility taking the field would both potentially be intimidating to enemy forces, potentially useful as a moral force, and would increase the prestige of their combined forces.
A few years earlier or later, and this would not have been possible. The name and title did not do much for Tokugawa Ieyasu immediately – it didn’t make any practical difference in the short term – but it gave him greater legitimacy and prestige when he rose as the chief rival to Hideyoshi Toyotomi, and much later paved the way for him to being named Shogun (which was legally only possible to be granted to those of noble descent, which is why Toyotomi Hideyoshi only was able to take the second highest rank – Kampaku – and never Shogun).
***
DRINKING FROM BITTER CUPS
“Son, life is not constantly upwards. Most calamities are of our own making due to errors – and we must strive never to make errors – but sometimes, calamities are forced upon us by Heaven. I’ve been given some bitter cups to drink in my life – and, when it was Heaven’s Will, I drank them down in a gulp.”
Hearing this saying from his father, Hidetada thought Ieyasu was going to talk about Hideyoshi’s outmaneuvering of him after the Battles of Komaki and Nagakute (as we discussed in Vantages #8: Restraint), or perhaps being forced to abandon Mikawa and accept the unknown Hojo lands in a dangerous bargain (as we discussed in Vantages #9: Classical and Romantic Play).
But instead, Ieyasu told his son a story that Hidetada had only heard about in passing, one of the most shameful moments of the Tokugawa Clan, and one of the most painful memories of Ieyasu’s life.
“Hidetada, your mother – Lady Saigo – was the great love of my life, the one closest to my heart and mind… she saw to a different part of the clan than Hanzo with his ninja, or Lord Honda on the battlefield, but was no less important for our foundation. She understood men and women perfectly; she was perfectly gentle and diplomatic in all situations, except where negligence occurred, and then she was as fierce as an avenging kami. But once the situation corrected, she was perfectly grateful and gentle again.
“One of the few regrets in my life – I have few regrets; there’s no profit in regret – but one of my few regrets is not marrying her before illness took her away from us last year, too early. I miss her very much. Every time I look upon you, I saw her gentle and brilliant demeanor.”
Ieyasu pauses for a moment, and – rare for him – sighs nostalgically.
He pauses for a moment to collect himself,
“But few people any more, for obvious reasons, talk about my first wife, Lady Tsukiyama…”
Ieyasu then recounts the story, at times very slowly.
In the year 1557, Ieyasu had been married to Lady Tsukiyama at the age of 13 to cement the alliance between the Imagawa and the Tokugawa.
Two years later, in 1559, Tsukiyama gave birth to a son, Nobuyasu, who became Tokugawa Ieyasu’s heir.
These two were held hostage by the Imagawa until Hattori Hanzo’s raid and capture of Imagawa hostages to trade in exchange for Ieyasu’s family.
Firmly in the Oda camp now, Oda Nobunaga now married his daughter Tokuhime to Ieyasu’s son Nobuyasa in 1563. They were still children and would (obviously) not have consummated their marriage at this time, but this now made Nobunaga and Ieyasu into relatives.
Over the next 16 years, though, Tokuhime and Nobuyasa grew together and became quite close, having two daughters together.
For whatever reason, though, Lady Tsukiyama did not like Tokuhime, and arranged for Nobuyasa to take the daughter of a high-ranking Takeda samurai as concubine.
Obviously, we saw the destruction of the Takeda Clan in Vantages #1: Why and How, but the Takeda had not been fully destroyed at this time, and the Takeda were still considered a preeminent clan on the scene. Nobunaga was at war with the Takeda, and they were still a major threat.
Tokuhime wrote to her father, Nobunaga, telling him about Lady Tsukiyama’s potential treachery.
Nobunaga was often brutal in times of stress, and he wrote to Ieyasu saying that Lady Tsukiyama should be executed.
Ieyasu drank from this bitter cup, and Lady Tsukiyama was executed in 1579.
Surprising Tokuhime, who by accounts loved her husband, Tokugawa Nobuyasa was instructed to commit seppuku.
Historians have recorded that Tokugawa Ieyasu in later years felt very great remorse at this – he was known to love his children and grandchildren and feel far more attachment to them than was common for samurai lords in the era – but the thinking had been that, his mother executed, Nobuyasa might attempt something rash and attempt to take Nobunaga’s life, or defect to the Takeda or surviving Imagawa and raise rebellion.
Thus, Ieyasu had been forced to see his first wife and eldest son killed under his watch. What cup could be more bitter to drink from?
***
KARMA
“Things tend to right themselves over time. I’ll say this about Hideyoshi: until the very closing chapters of his life when he started to lose his mind, he was incredibly merciful and far-sighted towards those he defeated. Nobunaga was not. Son, you should never make permanent enemies – not through spiting a man, nor through negligence. I never avenged my first wife and son against Nobunaga, and maybe I never would have, but karma tends to have its way with things. Nobunaga’s brutality and negligence, obviously, played some part in his end…”
Ieyasu muses with Hidetada on why Nobunaga was betrayed and assassinated, and how it was a terrible karma that Nobunaga’s eldest son was killed the same day by the traitor Mitsuhide.
Having opened some painful memories up to light, Ieyasu now drifts back and forth from various battles – the campaigns in the east before Nobunaga’s death, reflecting on Hideyoshi’s campaigns in the west and his rapid haste in returning to avenge Nobunaga’s death, reflecting that Mitsuhide also faced terrible karma.
He walks Hidetada through the one major disaster of his life – his defeat to Takeda Shingen at Mikatagahara – and how it was only Hattori Hanzo’s close relationships with a former rival ninja clan that had allowed Ieyasu and Hanzo to escape with their lives.
After admonishing the strictest secretary, he recounts how Hanzo
assassinated Takeda Shingen – emphasizing again the points of patience, picking the right moment and spot for conflict, the cultivation of relationships, and the ability to “see the unseen” to shape affairs.
***
PATIENCE
“Which brings us to your first question – why did we let Ishida Mitsunari go?”
Hidetada, who had been until now been largely quiet while simply listening, says: “Yes, father, I understand patience now much more. But I still don’t understand why we let Mitsunari go.”
Ieyasu nods. “Do you understand how we defeated Hideyoshi on the battlefield at Komaki and Nagakute, and yet he won that war?”
Hidetada says, “Well, Oda Nobuo was an idiot. I still can’t believe that. Yes, you said those points about swallowing the bitter cup, but our senior officers still rant occasionally when they’re drinking about what an idiot Nobuo was.”
Ieyasu says, “Well, whose fault is it?”
Hidetada is about to reply when he realizes it’s a trick question.
He pauses, then replies – “… ours?”
Ieyasu nods. “Why?”
Hidetada thinks, thinks, and then connects the lines – “Because we were surprised?”
Ieyasu nods. “And what do we do when we’re surprised?”
Hidetada says, “We… well, surprise indicates we had not thought things through well beforehand… so we have to learn from it and never – oh, I see.”
Ieyasu says, “Go on.”
Hidetada says, “It’s like Hanzo’s ninja … we must drive at the weak spot. And a politically weak, rash, and foolish ally is a very weak spot.”
The sun was now setting, and without Hidetada realizing it, father-and-son had looped back around from their long walk and were about to re-enter the castle grounds.
They were silent on the rest of the walk, but Ieyasu was smiling as he crossed the threshold into the castle and the guards saluted.
Ieyasu didn’t show emotion very often, but before heading back to their quarters, he embraced Hidetada and said, “I love you, son.”
Hidetada chokes up a little as this rare emotion, tears almost coming to him unbidden. “Father…”
But as he breaks off the embrace, Tokugawa Ieyasu’s face has returned to that unreadable neutral expression, as calm and sturdy as a mountain; his traces of nostalgia are gone.
Before departing back to his own quarters, Tokugawa Ieyasu says – back in his normal stoic demeanor –
“Now Hidetada, that’s probably enough emotion for this season. Get your armor. We’re going to war.”
Vantages #11: Testament
IN MEDIAS RES: THE SUN CLIMBS AT SEKIGAHARA
The fighting had broken when the fog cleared at 8AM, and quickly, 100,000 Japanese soldiers from clans across the nation were locked in mortal combat.
Guns and artillery exploded, men were slashed and stabbed, war cries of valor rose into the air – and sometimes stopped abruptly at the peak of their fervor.
Ishida Mitsunari’s Western Army had less gunners, but superior numbers with 120,000 soldiers to only 75,000 for Tokugawa Ieyasu.
Over 50,000 soldiers from each side were now committed to the battle.
The Eastern Army's reinforcements have failed to arrive in time, and Ieyasu himself sat in the very center-rear of the Eastern Army lines. The Eastern Army begins falling back shortly as Mitsunari’s Western forces pursue in a frenzy of bloodlust.
“We’re pushing them back!”
Rallying cheers and shouts rose from the Western Army.
As the news was reported to him on the northwestern slope of the battle, Ishida Mitsunari grinned broadly.
“This will be the final battle! Rout them! Bring me Ieyasu’s head!”
Two major Western Army detachments were uncommitted so far, most notably, Kobayakawa Hideaki sat with 15,000 strong gunner troops in a commanding position overlooking the battlefield in the southwestern corner.
Mitsunari’s orders went out – full attack! Charge! Rout them!
But Hideaki’s forces didn’t move to the sound of the war drums and conch shells.
Mitsunari sent one messenger politely, then two more, gradually more forcefully giving the same simple order –
Attack! Attack! Attack!
As Hideaki sat underneath his commander’s standard observing the battle, two hours passed, and now messengers were announced as coming from two different directions.
“My lord! Another messenger from General Ishida Mitsunari!”
More quietly, another guard whispered to Kobayakawa Hideaki,
“My lord! One of Tokugawa Ieyasu’s… messengers… has arrived.”
Annoyed at being delayed from an audience with Hideaki, Mitsunari’s messenger simply shouted,
“Kobayakawa forces! The battle is turning now! The time for the fight is now!”
Hideaki frowned, sitting underneath his commander’s standard.
On 21 October 1600 at Sekigahara, the Sun climbed to its highest height in the sky as the Western and Eastern Armies were locked in their bloody struggle.
It was high noon as Sekigahara.
***
VANTAGES, FINALE: TESTAMENT
“I mean to do glorious deeds and I am ready for a long siege, with provisions and gold and silver in plenty, so as to return in triumph and leave a great name behind me. I desire you to understand this and to tell it to everybody.” – Hideyoshi Toyotomi, in a letter to his wife, shortly before consolidating power over all Japan
Since ancient times, variants of a “last will and testament” have shaped human history. Of course, they often dispense personal property and real property – sometimes greatly shaping human affairs – but I think we should beyond mere things.
What do our ancestors pass on to us? Surely, a vineyard or the claim to some iron mines might be valuable, but an heir untrained in management and economy is always quick to squander inheritance of mere things.
No, the most precious thing that our ancestors bequeath most to us is their culture, their ethos, the memory of their animating force – that it might shape us and animate us in turn.
Particularly sound testaments can certainly strengthen and fortify one’s culture, putting down permanent touchstones for future generations.
But no mere document can ever override those deeper points, written in blood and sinew, not ink; while we come from dust and return to it, there is at least some chance that the most critical of ideas will live forever.
***
THE TRUE TESTAMENT OF HIDEYOSHI TOYOTOMI
At the time of his death, Hideyoshi Toyotomi had risen from being an obscure peasant sandal-bearer to being lord over all of Japan.
But, perhaps due to misplaced and misguided lustful infatuation, perhaps due to mental illness, perhaps due to subtle defects of a character that could not simply enjoy the fruits of his labors after complete and total victory, he was unable to stop his expansionism.
In 1592, only two years after unifying Japan, he sent his best soldiers to invade and subjugate Korea and China.
Three years later, when an infant son was born to his treacherous wife Princess Chacha, he ordered the execution of his adult nephew and heir to the throne. With his best soldiers fighting, starving, and dying overseas, the successor to the Toyotomi Clan became a three-year-old boy.
Three years later, Hideyoshi Toyotomi was on his deathbed. He called for a “Council of Five Elders” to be established and wrote a testament in ink – these men would hold the nation of Japan in trust for the child.
But the ink from Toyotomi’s pen was not strong enough to overwrite the true compact he’d already written in blood.
***
YEAR 1587 IN KOREA…
With 133 warships and over 200 supply and transport ships, it was time for Hideyoshi’s fleet to finally destroy the Koreans at sea.
Joseon Korea had turned out to be a far more fierce and menacing opponent than Toyotomi had believed – though the first invasion of K
orea in 1582 had rapidly seen Toyotomi forces conquer Busan, Seoul, and Pyongyang, the Korean Navy under Admiral Yi Sun-Sin had repeatedly harassed and destroyed their resupply ships, leaving the Toyotomi land forces starving and under-equipped.
But, through the use of spies and intrigue, the Japanese had convinced Admiral Yi’s enemies at court to have him arrested; later-known as one of Korea’s greatest heroes, remarkably, the Admiral had almost been executed for no reason.
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