L. Butler
a “failed restoration,” a reactionary move to reestablish power at court, Goble sees in him a revo-
lutionary figure, open to a range of ideologies and flexible in approach as he attempted to create
a new order. Although unable to establish the regime he desired, Go- Daigo, claims Goble, helped
usher in the medieval era, an age generally believed to begin with the Kamakura shogunate a
century and a half earlier.^7 These are large claims, and Goble’s work elicited strong responses fol-
lowing its publication, both in opposition to as well as in support of his assertions. The most
incisive discussion of the book, fair in its analysis and critical in its approach, is a review article by
Reinhard Zollner.^8 There, Zollner acknowledges the contributions that Goble’s extensive
research and strong arguments make to scholarly discourse while raising doubts about his claims
for Go- Daigo’s revolutionary nature, among other points. Moreover, Zollner offers the clearest
summary of recent historiography on the topic, noting the positions of scholars such as Matsumoto
Shinpachirō, Nagahara Keiji, and Kuroda Toshio.
In considering the historical place of Go- Daigo more generally, as well as the heated responses
to Goble’s study, two points seem particularly significant. First, over the course of the twentieth
century, academic historians moved away from the “great men” view of history. Important as an
individual might be in establishing a new state, setting government policy, or leading an army,
scholars have rejected the notion that history is driven by the actions and ideas of such figures.
History and historical change move at a more basic, societal level. And even though Goble’s
history offers much more than the study of a “great man,” there is still no question that he
ascribes considerable weight to the actions of Go- Daigo. This is no doubt one reason for the
heated responses the book elicited. Second, Go- Daigo’s efforts, whether a restoration or revolu-
tion, failed. If in fact he effected important changes in society or government despite this failure,
as Goble claims, then his efforts require careful consideration. If not, he is little more than a
historical footnote, a figure who rose briefly but had limited lasting impact.
Another influential work on the medieval court that examines a single individual—albeit in
this case a shogun, not an emperor—is Imatani Akira’s 1991 study, Muromachi no ōken, summa-
rized in English as “Not for Lack of Will or Wile: Yoshimitsu’s Failure to Supplant the Imperial
Line.” Building upon a thesis first put forth in the 1920s, Imatani argues that Ashikaga Yoshi-
mitsu (1358–1408, r. 1368–1394) intended to solidify his control of the state by replacing the
imperial line with that of his own family: emperor and shogun were to be one and the same.
Evidence of Yoshimitsu’s intrusion into court affairs is plentiful—in making and approving court
and religious appointments, sponsoring and regulating court celebrations and prayers, interfer-
ing in (if not in fact determining) imperial succession, and demanding ceremonial recognition for
himself that was the prerogative of retired emperors. Yoshimitsu’s “grand design” of supplanting
the imperial line, argues Imatani, “was foiled only by his death.”^9
It is an intriguing notion, but a careful consideration of the issues involved raises many ques-
tions and doubts. To begin with, like Go- Daigo’s restoration/revolution, Yoshimitsu’s usurpa-
tion (assuming that was his goal) failed, and with it the broader significance it might have had.
Furthermore, despite Imatani’s conviction that Yoshimitsu’s next step was to take over the
throne, no evidence for that exists beyond his appropriation of the various powers noted above;
as a result, many scholars remain unconvinced. There is also the question of what Yoshimitsu
would have gained by unifying the two offices. Imatani speaks of usurping “imperial powers,”
but those listed above do not strike one as particularly weighty. If Yoshimitsu had his sights on
greater imperial powers still, what were they? Or if not power, was he after imperial authority
or prestige, or religious and sacred prerogatives? With this we are forcefully returned to the dif-
ficult question of what defined the court of the era, of what gave it lasting significance at the time
and among the elite (and possibly among commoners, based on arguments by Amino Yoshihiko),^10
particularly since historians have long argued that it had been stripped of all practical powers by