Ginkaku-ji, ('Temple of the Silver Pavilion'), a Zen temple in the Sakyo ward of Kyoto, Japan. It is one of the constructions that represent the Higashiyama Culture of the Muromachi period.
The Ashikaga shogunate, during the 14th century, reestablished diplomatic ties with Ming China under Ashikaga Yoshinori, doing so in a clearly subordinate capacity. This renewed contact granted Japan access to the latest cultural currents from China, which the shogunate—particularly under Shogun Yoshimasa—adapted into a distinctly Japanese form. This synthesis became known as Higashiyama culture, named after the Kyoto district where Yoshimasa established his retreat. While not the sole architect of this cultural movement, Yoshimasa played a crucial role by gathering and sponsoring leading artistic talents, offering patronage as well as discerning critique.
Drawing heavily on Zen Buddhist ideals—especially those promoted by the Five Mountain temples—and on the aesthetic principles of wabi-sabi, Higashiyama culture fostered the refinement of chadō (tea ceremony), ikebana (flower arranging), Noh theater, and sumi-e ink painting. Many elements now recognized as hallmarks of Japanese Zen aesthetics trace their origins to this period. Higashiyama culture is often contrasted with the earlier Kitayama culture of the Muromachi era, with Kinkaku-ji (the Golden Pavilion) regarded as emblematic of Kitayama, while Ginkaku-ji (the Silver Pavilion) epitomizes Higashiyama.
Yoshimasa’s villa in Kyoto’s Sakyō-ku, later converted into the Zen temple Ginkaku-ji after his death, became the focal point of this cultural flowering. Known for its embodiment of Zen and wabi-sabi aesthetics, it served as a gathering place for artists, poets, and courtiers whom the retired shogun welcomed and supported. Out of these circles emerged not only new artistic developments but also a celebrated collection of objects and artworks remembered as the Higashiyama Treasure.
I recently finished reading Samuel Hawley's The Imjin War and wanted to talk about it a little. There is depressingly little available in English on this particular conflict (or, I'm finding, on the Sengoku period in general), but I find it pretty fascinating on a number of levels so I've been reading everything I can on it. Hawley utilizes an abundance of primary sources from Korea, Japan, and Ming China to craft his narrative of a war that most Westerners have probably never heard of but that had profound, devastating impacts on all three of the main countries involved for centuries afterwards.
After completing the unification of Japan, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, born a peasant and risen to the rank of kampaku (regent/chief councilor to the Emperor; in effect, the de facto ruler of Japan), turned his gaze westward to China. His unbroken record of military successes had apparently made him feel not only invincible, but specially chosen by the gods to rule the world; in his correspondence to both the King of Korea and the Emperor of China, he described his supposedly heavenly origins and an auspicious dream his mother had had at the time of his birth, allegedly forecasting his future global domination. He resolved to conquer China--regarded at this time by itself and most of its neighbors as the beacon of civilization and the center of the universe--and make it a vassal of Japan. And after China inevitably fell to Hideyoshi's divinely-driven might, India was next on the agenda of the taiko (the title he assumed after handing the rank of kampaku over to his then-heir, Hidetsugu).
But in order to carry out his planned conquest of Ming China, Hideyoshi's army would need to go through Korea. The Taiko tried, through his diplomats, to convince the King of Korea to grant his armies safe passage through Korea. But Korea considered itself a loyal vassal and was indignant at the idea of in any way aiding in this invasion from a land that was still considered by both the Chinese and Koreans as an island of barbarians and pirates. So the first step of Hideyoshi's invasion of China would be to bring Korea under heel, preferably as quickly as possible. Civilian casualties were, Hideyoshi ordered, to be kept to a minimum.
What followed was a six-year cataclysm that led to the Korean peninsula being depopulated by an estimated 20%, including battle deaths, mass slaughters of civilians, deaths from disease/starvation, and thousands of Korean civilians being sent back to Japan to be sold into slavery. There was a brief interlude in between the first and second campaigns, during which Hideyoshi's diplomats attempted, in vain, to reach a conclusion that would be acceptable both to the Taiko and to the Ming Chinese (the Koreans were left out of the negotiations). The scene that brought these negotiations to a screeching halt is like something out of a Hollywood movie, with Hideyoshi being bedecked in Ming Chinese robes and a crown, and soon realizing these trappings are meant to make him a vassal of China, rather than elevated to an equal footing with the Chinese emperor, as he'd been led to believe. Outraged and insulted, Hideyoshi hurled off the vestments and was, according to a Jesuit missionary on hand to witness the scene, in a literal foaming rage. The Ming delegates were made to depart immediately. Hideyoshi retaliated for this perceived humiliation by ordering a second invasion of Korea, this time purely for punitive purposes.
Conquest was not the purpose this time around, only mass murder. Every captured government official was ordered to be killed, along with their families. Hideyoshi's orders this time were to "mow down everyone universally, without discrimination between young and old, men and women, the clergy and the laity--high-ranking soldiers on the battlefield, that goes without saying, but also the hill folk, down to the poorest and meanest--and send the heads to Japan." The peasants were, in theory, supposed to be spared, if they followed orders and remained at work in their fields, but the reality played out quite differently. Hawley compares this stage of the Imjin War to "a campaign of terror and extermination similar to that launched by the Nazis in occupied Europe in 1939." He shows the reports of various samurai officers to their superiors on the number of noses taken, per day--often in the hundreds or even the thousands. These noses were gathered, salted, and placed in large barrels, to be shipped back to Japan (in lieu of sending back the entire heads). Tens of thousands of these noses were eventually interred in a giant mound in Kyoto, eventually erroneously renamed from the Hanazuka (Mound of Noses) to the Mimizuka (Mound of Ears). It remains in Kyoto to this day, near the temple at which Hideyoshi was posthumously enshrined as a god.
But there are many other parts to this drama, which Hawley brings to life vividly through the primary sources. The heroism of Korean admiral Yi Sun-shin, whose brilliant tactics repeatedly obliterated the Japanese navy even in the face of much larger numbers and political chicanery from his rival admiral Won Kyun. The rivalry between Nicheren Buddhist daimyo Kato Kiyomasa and the Christian daimyo Konishi Yukinaga, Hideyoshi's two primary commanders in Korea, that would ultimately carry over into them taking different sides after the Taiko's death (Yukinaga would be executed alongside Mitsunari after Sekighara). The political infighting of both the Korean and Chinese courts, often over the most petty things, leading to successful generals/admirals being demoted/deposed and even in some cases executed, while incompetents with the right connections were rewarded. The resistance of the Korean people, including its long-suppressed Buddhist population, who formed militias to do battle with the Japanese invaders. The fury of the Korean people at their own government for failing them so miserably during the early stages of the war, culminating in them burning much of their own capital and the palace of the King in Seoul before the Japanese arrived.
Hawley also shows how the effects of the war reverberated in various ways long after the last Japanese troop left the Korean peninsula. The war left Ming China so economically and militarily weakened that the dynasty was toppled shortly thereafter by the Jurchens (Manchus) who went on to establish the Qing dynasty. (In one of history's great ironies, the Ming actually became so desperate for help that they even requested military aid from Japan in the 1640s. The Tokugawa regime was not interested.) The economic impacts on Korea were still being felt centuries later; over two hundred years after the war, the Korean government could still not afford to rebuild Gyeongbok Palace in Seoul. In Japan, the war left Toyotomi forces depleted and heavily factionalized, which arguably helped Tokugawa Ieyasu gain victory at Sekigahara and enabled his establishment as Shogun. Korea refused to establish normal diplomatic relations with Japan for centuries afterwards, until Japan, far more powerful and with a Westernized military in the late 19th century, finally forced the issue, eventually subjugating and colonizing Korea in 1910 through the end of World War II.
If you're interested in the history of this period, I would absolutely recommend this book. Hawley's early chapters do an excellent job of explaining the cultural and political atmospheres of Korea, China, and Japan prior to the start of the war and constructing the backdrop before which the ensuing drama is about to unfold. You see the contrast between Ming China, confident in its position as the fount of civilization and center of the universe, but internally divided by endless political factionalism, and Hideoyshi's bold, aggressive, confident war machine, possibly the best fighting force in Asia after over 100 years of civil war, but still politically unstable, held together mostly by the will and personality of Hideyoshi himself (and his health is already beginning to fail). And then there's Korea, a small, peaceful country, its military ill-prepared, its generals (mostly political appointees with no significant military experience) deliberately kept in the capital so they can't lead the army in uprisings against its own factionalized government. It's a recipe for disaster, and it unfolds accordingly. Hawley also includes extensive endnotes and a lengthy bibliography. This book is a long read but well worth it.
The Imjin wars are one of the really, really dark moments of the Sengoku Jidai and of Japan’s history. Not so much for what happened there, though that certainly contributes heavily, but for the precedent that it would set. The Imjin wars, or rather, Japan’s invasion of Korea, would use a route that would find itself repeated 300 years later. Japan would annexe Korea much more successfully and devastatingly in the 1900s and leave a mark on both countries that cannot be forgotten.
The post is under the cut, once again this is too long to just sit on the blog
This is why I think it’s important, outside of what I’m doing, to talk about the Imjin Wars. It gives you a taste, a small peek into what would happen later on. There’s no way of knowing whether or not – had HIdeyoushi’s attempts never come to any fruition or never dreamed up in the first place – the Imjin wars were the direct cause of this invasion. They probably weren’t but it feels as if there might have been some bitterness that caused such atrocities.
Enough about the 1900s, that will get its own, far more detailed post when the time comes. The invasion of Korea was staged after months of preparation. Daimyos led men to Kyushu where they would then sail across to the peninsula off the Asian main land. Daimyos such as Tokugawa Ieyasu “got out of it”, Tokugawa himself claimed the vast distance form his lands to Kyoto as a reason not to be involved. Others would march their men to Kyushu and commit atrocious acts that cannot be forgotten.
The playing countries would not just be Japan and Korea but also China – Hideyoushi’s intended destination by route of Korea. However, the Ryukyuan king was a vassal of both Ming China and the Toyotomi Taiko. Letters that Hideyoushi exchanged with him would go on to be sent to the Ming as well. This actually served to confuse the Ming as the letters addressed Hideyoushi’s demands that the neighbouring countries pledge to him. These countries included the Ryukyuan, the Philippines and Korea. They wondered why exactly the Koreans had never raised it with them
The fact of the matter was, the Koreans were actually trying to go through with Hideyoushi’s demand. They all knew that if a war erupted between Japan and China then it would be fought on the middle ground – Korea.
His demands would be a little lost in translation. The owners of the port, the Sou clan, understandably did not want a horde turning up on their door step to invade Korea – which was considerably closer to them than most others. They also didn’t want to hand over any power to smaller clans, they got away with more and there were families such as the Matsuura who were suspected of Piracy. If this turned out to be true then it would really undermine the strength of the Sou and they might just get the boot.
So, what did Sou Yoshishige do? He softened down Hideyoushi’s words a little, made them less demanding. Granted they were then sent with a Tachibana man who supposedly demanded to be treated as some sort of foreign King (that’s not exactly how it’s worded but, he wanted far too much). On top of this he also insulted the fact that Koreans were shorter than the Japanese, which I imagine didn’t go down too well. Understandably of course.
None of this would come to any fruition, even Sou’s “down toning” of HIdeyoushi’s demands wasn’t soft enough. The Koreans were outraged by his use of personal pronouns that were kept only for Emperors. On top of this, Hideyoushi referred to himself as the “King of Japan” which both implied he had murdered his predecessor (which if theories are to be believed, he might well have done) and that the Emperor was of no consequence. On return the ridiculous ambassador was executed and Yoshishige removed from his post.
Then, it got worse. Hideyoushi claimed that he had been conceived by some divine radiance and with this power intended to invade China. As the Koreans were already well aware, this meant he would go through their country. He essentially gave the Koreans two options – fight with him or be fought against.
They did arrange an audience with him but it was only stood after four months and Hideyoushi didn’t make things better. The Koreans weren’t give the banquet they’d been expecting – heck, by the sounds of it this was just common courtesy – but instead just a communal bowl of sake and rice cakes. On top of this, Hideyoushi was hardly dressed for the event as he wore typical, everyday clothes. To add even more insult to injury he was cradling the baby Hideyori who picked that perfect time to urinate on him. Things were going just swimmingly.
On top of this, Hideyoushi made an idiot of himself politically. By this I mean he appeared naïve and the Koreans were quite assured this potential lord was a complete buffoon. Hideyoushi was still bitter about the Mongol invasions of Japan, which, for a start, had failed and been staged around 250 years before he was born. He wanted to get revenge on China. The dynasty that had been the root of the invasions were the Yuan, the current Dynasty was the Ming and they had been for 200 years.
Without the potential allies of the Koreans, operations were set up in Kyushu. Seen as it was the closest to Korea, it only makes sense that 52% of the labour and general man power came from there. It was also a financial move as the cost of bringing things and men from Kyoto compared to staying in Kyushu would have been exponential. Eventually he’d gathered up 335,000 men to invade Korea, however, only 158,000 would go.
The three Generals who would lead the forces to land in Korea were all young and enthusiastic, without a doubt. They were: Kato Kiyomasa, an eccentric distant relation of Hideyoushi; Kuroda “Damian” Nagamasa, the son of Hideyoushi’s trusted strategist, Kuroda “Simeon” Yoshitaka whose name was also Kuroda Kanbei; and Konishi “Augustin” Yukinaga. Seen as Kato and Konishi are getting their own posts, I’ll talk about Damian.
He was born Kuroda Nagamasa in 1568, so was only 24 when sent to Korea. Still, he already had plenty of experience to boot, supposedly first taking up the sword at the age of nine – though, I would like it to be confirmed by someone who has better sources than me. I know they started young but not…that young. Either way, he would convert to Christianity along with his father but, unlike his father, wouldn’t renounce it when Hideyoushi got a bit antsy about it all.
Needless to say, there was tension between the two Christian generals and Kato. Kato Kiyomasa was a stanch and occasionally violent Buddhist belonging to the Nichiren sect. Something that he is quite infamous for is attacking and killing pregnant Christian women. He would then proceed to slit open their stomachs and behead the foetus. Awful, I know. It’s easy to see why he might not have gotten on very well with Damian and Konishi, I imagine they got on swell.
This was only the first invasion and they moved through Korean with efficient destruction with other, lower commanders. In the June and July 1592 a team of Magistrates were sent across to report on the situation, reaching Hanseong (Seoul) in the July. This team, so to speak, consisted of Mashita Nagamori, Otani Yoshitsugu and Ishida Mitsunari. They would send a letter back, condemning the campaign and how bad it was really going – especially now the Chinese were getting involved. They warned Hideyoushi that the Japanese would be eliminated if they didn’t pull back almost immediately.
The first campaign came to an end a year later, when the great admiral Yi Sun-shin (who Jonathan Clements says needs a book for himself and I agree) cut off the Japanese supply lines. On top of this, the Ming sent an impressive force under Li Rusong. At their wits end, Konishi and Kuroda retreated back to Seoul while Kato, the only one who had really had any success past Seoul, continued right on conquering until he realised he may well get the blame for their failings.
Li Rusong would stop chasing the Japanese back when they reached Seoul, he had no desire to fight them. There were 20,000 within the city and the two had much in common really. His troops were diseased – as was common when fighting in a foreign land, along with this – much like the Japanese forces – his supply lines were stretched and men who fought on empty stomachs were poor fighters.
Kato and Konishi would come to more disagreements when Konishi - having received an order from Hideyoushi to retreat to Busan – demanded peace terms. They were agreed, the Japanese would not be chased any further in their retreat, peace would come if they handed over their hostages. Two Korean Princes had fallen into the hands of Kato, who refused to give them back. It would be Konishi who would do the talking and promise their return. Not to say that Hideyoushi was going to be very happy about Konishi’s decision in his name either – Konishi agreed that HIdeyoushi would become a vassal of China and be known as the “King of Japan.”
The Japanese also, did not go peacefully. They would loot and rape as they pleased, taking women with them as they went south. On top of this they broke into, looted and burnt the corpse of a dead Korean king. They then replaced the body with that of a commoner, in the hopes that the Koreans would fall for the trick and venerate a simple man. It’s a cruel prank that’s a big deal, ancestors were and still are a part of Koreans’ lives.
In the June of 1593 Chinese envoys arrived in Kyushu and while we can laugh about the fact that Mitsunari was put in charge of entertainment (merely funny because of the supposed character the man had) it was a serious issue. Both sides had lied to one another, Hideyoushi had no idea that he was the “King of Japan” and a vassal of China. Supposedly, Hideyoushi was all but illiterate but I just don’t think I can believe this – he was the Taiko and had so much power, there’s just no way he was illiterate. What I think Clements is trying to say is that he didn’t know the Chinese script, which is understandable at least – the two are different and 1100 years of only minimal contact allowed the Japanese and Chinese scripts to evolve very differently though they remained similar.
Although Konishi had tipped off the city of Jinju of Kato’s impending invasion on order of Hideyoushi they either didn’t receive it at all or simply didn’t believe the tip off. They remained in their city and would be massacred. Although the first attempt to breech the walls would fail, the second allowed for a wall to collapse after heavy rain. Kato’s troops would pour into the city and kill every soul, leaving 60,000 dead, many of whom were women and children.
We do have a story from this, telling the story of a Giseang (vaguely akin to a Japanese Geisha; although the form of Geisha we know (think Memoirs of a Geisha, not very accurate but a good starting point) did not exist at the time) named Non Gae. She called a celebrating Samurai to her, embraced in a bear hug and leapt to her death in the river below, taking him with her.
When negotiations opened up again Konishi would once again take it upon himself to dismantle Hideyoushi’s demand, reducing their severity and making him sound a lot humbler – such as a good little vassal should be. Hideyoushi had no idea of this. The Koreans however, knew exactly what was going on and were already preparing for the next attack for when Hideyoushi found out the truth.
It would be in October 1596 when Hideyoushi, now 60 years old with failing eyesight and a poor appetite, would find out the truth. When he had two scrolls translated he discovered he was being called “King of Japan” along with a mildly threatening warning that if he or his descendants ever sent trading ships to China they would be sunk on suspicion of being pirate vessels.
Hideyoushi would fly into a rage, tearing off the crown and robes he’d been given by the envoys.
“[He] flew into such a Passion and a Rage that he was perfectly out of himself. He froth’d and foam’d at the mouth, he ranted and tore till his head smoak’d like fire, and his Body was all over in a dropping sweat” – Rodrigues the Interpreter
A second invasion would be launched in 1597. Hideyoushi, irate at the Koreans’ deception was focused solely on them – he no longer cared for China. He’d also ordered that Konishi commit Seppuku for his misdeeds and I, for the life of me, cannot work out or find out how he got out of that. If anyone knows I’d like a heads up.
During this time Mitsunari, sent over to oversee the forces once again, would write a letter back to Hideyoushi on the efforts…as in, well, how awful they were doing. That letter is actually rather famous. It’s considered one of the factors in the Western army’s loss at Sekigahara because Mitsunari decided that slagging off Kobayakawa was a good idea. I’m kidding, that’s a little critical of me and I actually believe he was right to do it. Although he earned himself the ire of Kuroda Yoshitaka and Kobayakawa Hideaki, which was a really bad idea in the long run, he was only telling the truth to the ailing (and almost dead) Hideyoushi.
In the September of 1598 the men would be recalled from Korea, Hideyoushi having died earlier that month. With upwards of 1 million people dead, largely on the Korean side rather than the Chinese or Japanese side, it was the bloodiest conflict of the era. With Toyotomi Hideyoushi now dead and buried it was only a matter of time before the tensions that had already been growing on home and foreign soil erupted once again into full scale civil war.
Ming vase depicting the poet Zhou Dunyi, China, c. 1578.
MET (ID: 20.41.2)
The larger seated figure resting near the banks of a lotus pond is the scholar-official Zhou Dunyi (1017–1073), who wrote an elegant poem about his love for this flower. Representations of poets appear in Chinese ceramics in the fourteenth century and are often identified by references to their writings. A long inscription written on the bottom of this jar dates it to 1587, and indicates that it was commissioned for the use of an auxiliary palace in the southwest. (MET)
Civilization: Is the West History episode 2: In 1683 the Ottoman army laid siege to Vienna, the capital of Europe's most powerful empire. Domination of East over West was an alarmingly plausible scenario. #history
Civilization: Is the West History episode 2: In 1683 the Ottoman army laid siege to Vienna, the capital of Europe’s most powerful empire. Domination of East over West was an alarmingly plausible scenario. But Islam was defeated: not so much by firepower as by science. Niall Ferguson asks why the Islamic world didn’t participate in the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment, and if the West…
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Civilization: Is the West History episode 1: The first programme in the series begins in 1420 when Ming China had a credible claim to be the most advanced civilization in the world: ‘All Under Heaven’. England on the eve of the Wars of the Roses would have seemed quite primitive by contrast. Yet the lead that China had established in technology was not to be translated into sustained economic…
The Master of Deception
“Of all the campaigns Wang Yangming directed, we have the most detailed information concerning his tactics for negotiating with, manipulating, coercing, deceiving, enticing, and maneuvering among the parties involved in his suppression of the bandits of Litou. Accounts suggest that, behind the scenes and prior to his campaigns, the grand coordinator was extraordinarily adept at slipping himself into local conflicts and tensions (and politics) to gain the upper hand, as well as using ploys to deceive his enemies. It was probably for this reason, among others, that he was able within three months to rein in this festering problem officials had failed to control for years.
Wang Yangming’s effort “to defeat the enemy in advance” began long before troops marched into Upper, Middle, and Lower Litou on February 16, 1518. Even prior to taking on the armed disturbances in Nan’an Prefecture during the fall of 1517, he had sent out an offer of amnesty to the powerful lineages ensconced in northern Guangdong, in a deliberate move to prevent further attacks. The goal, as he told the court, was to “check and drive a wedge between [the adherents of] his [Chi Zhongrong’s] gang.” The powerfully worded proclamation he addressed to them stated in no uncertain terms just why he had good reason to annihilate them and why others throughout the region likewise had good reason to harbor enmity towards them. It explained that he nonetheless fully understood that there might be mitigating circumstances leading them to behave as they had, as well as spelling those out so as to make them feel understood. Lastly, it concluded with a demonstration of largesse, by letting them know how deeply troubled he was by the thought of having to annihilate them and offering them the chance to come forward and reform.
The proclamation, sent out shortly before his campaign against the She bandits, achieved its intended effect. After Wang Yangming dispatched a licentiate and an honorary commoner from his yamen in Ganzhou to carry the offer along with gifts of silver and cloth, they journeyed south to the fortified settlements around Litou, and indeed succeeded in bringing back a number of headmen. The grand coordinator treated these men with great honor, pardoned them of all crimes, and took advantage of their offer to requite with the service of killing bandits. In no time, the headman Huang Jinchao and five hundred men accompanying him were assembled into a contingent, and would serve in armies that campaigned in Hengshui.
The Chi men, however, were not won over by the proclamation, and refused to come in. Wang imagined they would have reasoned in private conversation: “It has not been for merely a year that we have engaged in banditry, and there has been more than one occasion when officials have come to offer amnesty, so how could we believe this?” For this reason, Wang surmised, they chose to remain in Litou and observe how other local leaders were being received and treated. Noting how they served under him during the Hengshui campaigns, and alarmed by the rapidity with which the She bandits were eradicated, Chi Zhongrong, in consultation with other leaders, chose to send his younger brother Chi Zhong’an 池仲安with a small contingent of men to surrender and offer service to the military superintendent.
By this time, however, Wang Yangming had already made up his mind that the Chi kinsmen were, as others had been telling him, “crafty, cunning, savage, and ferocious.” He thus viewed the arrival of a Chi brother as nothing more than subterfuge, an attempt on the part of these ringleaders to spy on his movements and serve as infiltrators.179 “To guard against any trouble from them,” he explained to the Ming court, “while maintaining vigilance in preparation for defensive action, I put on the appearance of offering generous treatment, to put their minds at ease.”180 Chi Zhong’an and his men were also allowed to serve in the battle at Tonggang, but deployed in such a way as to prevent them from returning quickly to their settlements.
After that campaign concluded and Wang had returned to Nankang on December 27, 1517, his strategizing continued apace, especially because Chi Zhongrong and his supporters in Litou had continued to prepare themselves against an attack. A key element of Wang’s strategy was to build connections with local enemies of the Chi lineage and their allies. Prior to the campaign in Tonggang, the grand coordinator had already dispatched a summons to people living in neighboring counties who claimed to have suffered harm from these men. He asked them to come to his military headquarters and strategize with him. Several dozen arrived, and their advice to Wang was that he should call up a large army of native troops from outside the area, in preparation for a massive assault. But as before, Wang rejected this plan, for the lesson he had learned from previous campaigns of a similar nature was that the bandits knew how to melt away as the slow, cumbersome armies assembled and deployed. After formulating an initial battle plan that would rely heavily on the element of surprise and local support, he asked these men to return home, assemble militias, and at such time as armies were to advance, occupy all passes and intercept the bandits.
Of more immediate significance would be the assistance Wang received from two powerful leaders of local families from Longchuan County. The headmen Lu Ke, Zheng Zhigao, and others were said to be “resettled outlaws” who had earlier accepted an offer of amnesty from Wang Yangming. These local leaders of some three thousand people had been engaged in feuding with the Chi for some time, and Wang intended to exploit this to his advantage, by feigning to support the Chi lineage against them.
The success at Tonggang gave the leaders at Litou more cause for concern, something Wang Yangming suspected when he dispatched someone to bring them bulls and wine, offer reassurances, and spy on their movements. The Litou bandits justified their ongoing defensive preparations by saying they feared reprisals from the Lu and Zheng clans (who, they claimed, were raising armies). Wang pretended to believe their explanation, even dispatching a military communication to regional officials ordering a complete investigation of the latter. Ever the actor, he also sent a message to Chi Zhongrong to tell him to prepare to a clear a path for his troops to pass through should he need to lead a punitive campaign against those rival clans.
On December 27, Lu Ke and Zheng Zhigao called on Wang Yangming at his military headquarters in Nankang, presenting a written complaint listing the crimes committed by Chi Zhongrong and his accomplices, including virtually everything Wang had already heard from regional officials. Wang explained the ensuing series of events to the court:
I had already gathered intelligence concerning this matter, and when Ke and others arrived, I pretended to be very angry, accusing them of raising an army on their own authority and killing for revenge individuals whom had planned to or already surrendered. For their crimes [I informed them] they should be executed. Now they are manufacturing baseless accusations and taking advantage of the situation to frame [their adversaries]. Furthermore, Chi Zhongrong has just sent his younger brother to lead troops and requite with service, sincerely to submit and change, so how could this be? I then bound up Ke and the others and prepared to execute them. At the time Chi Zhong’an and those under him were present at my headquarters, and seeing Ke enter and inform against them, became alarmed and afraid. But after [seeing how I acted], they were pleased, lining up and calling out, competing with each other to denounce Ke and the others for their wicked crimes. In response I ordered them to compose a written complaint, and stated I would detain [Ke’s] dependents and slaughter them.
While all of this transpired, Wang Yangming secretly let Lu Ke and the other headmen know this was all an act, including the light thirty lashings they would receive as well as their temporary imprisonment. His younger brother was secretly sent back to Longchuan to continue assembling a force in preparation for the impending campaign.
While staging this show in Nankang, Wang continued the offensive in Litou. He dispatched two men to bribe Chi Zhongrong’s confidantes and have them convince him to come to his headquarters and levy charges against Lu Ke and Zheng Zhigao. On January 1, the grand coordinator returned to the censorate seat at Ganzhou with the now imprisoned enemies of the Chi kinsmen. While his envoys were bringing gifts to and warning Chi Zhongrong that failure to come forward and put the final nail in the coffin of their local adversaries might lead the grand coordinator to suspect there may be some merit to their case, Wang Yangming staged another show at the prefectural seat. To celebrate recent victories in Nan’an and prepare for the New Year, after issuing proclamations announcing victory and the restoration of order, he ordered troops feasted and dispersed, lanterns hung throughout the city, music, and other festivities. And should the Chi brothers have harbored residual doubts, the younger brother Zhong’an was ordered to return to assist his brother in defensive preparations, something they should not relax at a time when factions of the now imprisoned Lu Ke and Zheng Zhigao might seek revenge.
Wang Yangming successfully used many such measures born of the “way of deception” throughout all of his campaigns, and this stratagem was no exception. Once again, his ploy achieved its goal: “On February 3, 1518, Chi Zhongrong and [forty] others arrived in Ganzhou, and seeing that the regiments of troops had dispersed and returned home, and that all around the streets and marketplaces lanterns were hung and plays were being staged for a celebration, they believed troops would not be called up again.” Apparently, Chi Zhongrong even bribed a prison guard to allow them to see if Lu Ke was shackled and imprisoned. Seeing that this was indeed the case, he became so excited he dispatched someone home with the message “only now are our plans fully assured.” Little did he know that that night Wang freed Lu and the others, as they were to return home in preparation for the impending assault.
Once the headmen had departed their settlements in Litou, Wang began secret preparations for a campaign that was to commence on February 16. Needing to buy further time for mobilization, Wang feasted his unwitting adversaries and convinced them to stay over at a local temple and enjoy the New Year’s festivities. But just what exactly transpired during the next few days is difficult to say. On the one hand, based on what Wang Yangming recounted in his victory memorial, it would seem that his perpetuation of the hoax was purely a strategy to gain time: as soon as the armies were ready for deployment, the Chi brothers would be executed.
Nonetheless, the Chronological Biography suggests something more than pure cunning was at stake here for Wang Yangming. After settling “Zhongrong and his gang of ninety-three” in Xiangfu Temple, the grand coordinator ordered several in his company to supervise them, give them qingyi and greased boots (common Han clothing), and teach them ritual etiquette. The goal here was “to observe their intentions.” For this he received a barrage of criticism from local scholars and commoners, some of whom were telling him, “This is nothing more than to cultivate bandits and leave behind a calamity in the making.” Wang apparently agreed: “Observing their covetousness and savagery and that in the end they could not possibly be changed,” states the Biography, “master again determined that the bandit chieftains must be annihilated.” Therefore, as his victory memorial narrates the events, “On the third [of the first month], surmising Lu [Ke and the others] had returned home and soldiers had assembled in large numbers in their respective counties and prepared for deployment, I set up a feast in my hall, and concealed armed officers in preparation for an ambush. Zhongrong was invited in with his gang, and all were captured. I produced the written complaint originally composed by Lu [Ke], interrogated them, bound them, and placed them in prison. On that day, Chi Zhongrong and his accomplices were all slaughtered in what must have been something of a bloodbath, and apparently much to Wang’s disappointment: “Master [Wang] believed it a great shame he was unable in the end to reform them; it was already after three in the afternoon, he had not yet eaten, became dizzy, and vomited.””
- G.L. Israel, Doing Good and Ridding Evil in Ming China: The Political Career of Wang Yangming. Leiden: Brill, 2014. pp. 92-97.
