Feudal Era Commerce

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Đại Việt and Champa ; Vân Đồn and Thị Nại

Vân Đôn, a network of island harbors stretching northeast of the Red River Delta into the Gulf of Tongking, was the major location of international trade for the kingdom of Đai Viêt for about three and a half centuries. It first appeared in the chronicle of Đai Viêt (Đai Viêt sử ký) in 1149, and the last explicit reference to it was in 1467, although other evidence suggests it was still in operation for almost half a century after that. There is no precise indication of when or how the port ceased to function. Sometime after references to Vân Đôn vanished, the strong flow of Vietnamese ceramics overseas in the late fifteenth century stopped. 

In the 1550s, the Portuguese priest Gaspar da Cruz visited Đai Viêt, controlled at the time by the Mac royal family. In his brief but most interesting description, he portrayed the region as being very like China in writing, dress, administration, and policies. With good government the land was populous and prosperous, its people dressing, eating, and living well. Yet he noted “they do not deal with other peoples outside their own kingdom.” In regard to Champa, da Cruz had little to say. 

Some four decades earlier, Tomé Pires, the famed Portuguese apothecary of Malacca, reported that “Cochin China” (in context, Đai Viêt) was “larger and richer” than Champa. He described the Vietnamese as being “a very weak people on the sea; all their achievement is on land.” Their goods were gold and silver and “porcelain and pottery—some of great value,” which went to China. Their fabrics were “fine and perfect.” 

In exchange for these goods, the Vietnamese mainly gained sulfur from China and especially from the island world via Malacca. Yet “they rarely come to Malacca in their junks.” Guangzhou was the major port of trade for the Vietnamese, whence they went to Malacca on Chinese junks. According to Pires, in Champa “there are no ports . . . for large junks.” Its major products were aloeswood, “the true and best kind,” and gold that they brought to Malacca. In general, according to Pires, Champa was “weak on the sea [. . . and] has no port of note.” 

Yet, a century earlier, the Ming records of the Zheng He voyages and of their two-decade colonial occupation of the area of Tongking had shown a very different situation. Champa contained Xinzhou (the New District, or Vijaya), the central region’s port of Thi Nai. Woods like calambac (aloeswood) were quite important commercially, along with rhinoceros horns and elephant tusks. 

In what had been (and would be again) Đai Viêt to the north, a Chinese source from the Ming colonial period (1407–27), the Annan zhiyuan, and later Chinese documents spoke of the port of Vân Đôn as a place where many ships from the South Seas congregated. Vân Đôn was linked by sea routes to Fujian and Guangdong Provinces on the southeast coast of China, to the island of Hainan to the east, and to Champa and the rest of Southeast Asia to the south. 

So the question arises, what happened between the early fifteenth century and the early sixteenth century that led to the disappearance of both Vân Đôn and Thi Nai?

Vân Đồn Port, Its Development and Its Role in Maritime Trade

The port of Vân Đôn and the maritime system of Đai Viêt were intimately tied up with the waters of the Gulf of Tongking, an offshoot of the South China Sea. These waters, with their seasonal winds and currents, facilitated travel north up the eastern shore of mainland Southeast Asia during the southwest summer monsoon, and then south down that coast during the northeast winter monsoon. This north-south coastal route was generally easier than proceeding east-west to and from Hainan Island. The main historical questions thus became which ports of this coast would dominate the controlling and servicing of maritime trade moving north and south, and what competition would arise among the contending ports of this coast.

In the first centuries C.E., as Chinese society developed in the central Red River Delta, the dominant section of this coast was Jiaozhi, as the Chinese called this delta region. As Li Tana has discussed in this volume, Jiaozhi’s agricultural development and growing population tied together the trade along this coast, from Hepu and Qinzhou north in modern Guangxi to the many river mouths south down the coast to the Mekong Delta. With the breakup of the Han dynasty and its overland silk route, the maritime route began to develop strongly, and gradually Indian influence overcame Chinese on this coast.

In the process, competition arose among the coastal ports. Linyi (which would become Champa) emerged on the central coast to challenge Jiaozhi, while Jiuzhen and Rinan (present north central Vietnam) became contested areas in this broadly dynamic zone.

With the end of the Tang dynasty and of Chinese domination of former Jiaozhi in the ninth and tenth centuries, this coastal region became a much more fluid zone bordering the developing political powers of the region. Numerous and varied local powers and ethnicities existed among the growing polities, from the Southern Han in the two Guangs and from Đai Viêt in the central Red River Delta to Champa in the mountains and estuaries of modern central Vietnam.

The surge of maritime trade accompanying the unification of China and the rise of the Song dynasty led to a major transition in commercial connections along this eastern coast through the tenth and eleventh centuries. Out of the transitory coastal interactions of the prior two centuries came the Jiaozhi Yang (Ocean) system, with the Gulf of Tongking at its core. Muslim trade was rising in importance, and Quanzhou on the Fujian coast became the Chinese link for it, especially during the Mongol Yuan dynasty. This Jiaozhi Yang system was characterized by interactions among coastal Đai Viêt, Guangxi, Hainan Island, and Champa. In Đai Viêt, the surge of international trade and the concomitant local manufacturing favored the lower (eastern) Red River Delta leading to its new port of Vân Đôn. This trade surge also favored Vijaya and its “new” port (Xinzhou) of Thi Nai in central Champa, with greater access to the Central Highlands and the latter’s mountain products.

Li Tana has described the commercial situation centering on the Jiaozhi Yang and the conceptual model of trade connections among the shores of Champa, Đai Viêt, Hainan, and Guangxi. She has analyzed the nature of these connections and their importance for all these lands that touched the sea here. Her research shows that all parts of the region, shores and hinterlands, took part in and profited from trading in high-value commodities like slaves, horses, aromatic woods, and salt. The ports of Thi Nai (Xinzhou) in Champa, Vân Đôn in Đai Viêt, Qinzhou in Guangxi, and Yaizhou on Hainan were the main points of contact. In addition to the commerce among the seashores, Muslim participants and the connection with the Melayu Sea and Malacca just to the west ensured that these waters also formed a key part of the long-distance maritime trade network stretching between China and the Middle East. 

To all appearances, the Jiaozhi Yang commercial region continued to flourish through the fifteenth century, even after the two-decade Ming occupation of Đai Viêt. Champa and its port of Thị Nại were thriving, Malacca had risen in the Melayu Sea as the central port of Southeast Asia, and Đai Viêt’s port of Vân Đôn continued to operate. Now the Jiaozhi Yang system came to focus to the west on Malacca and its international connections, down to the north coast of Java, beyond it to the Spice Islands of Maluku, farther to the west and the Indian Ocean and beyond to India and the Middle East. The The journey to Malacca took place during the northeast monsoon and the return with the southwest one. Another connection was the eastern route to the north coast of Borneo and beyond into the eastern islands, ports like Cebu (central Philippines) and Banjarmasin (southeast Borneo). 

The port of Vân Đôn and its network of harbors in the islands off the northeast coast of Đai Viêt had survived the Ming occupation and continued to function. It sat on one edge of the Jiaozhi Yang, linked by trade to Qinzhou on the Guangxi coast, Hainan Island, and the Champa port of Thi Nai, as well as to the mountains of Yunnan and to the international sea routes beyond.

A flourishing manufacturing zone

Integrated with this commercial network there developed in the eastern Red River Delta a flourishing manufacturing zone, with the production of ceramics a major part of it. Chu Đậu, not far from Vân Đôn by boat, was one such major production center. A significant amount of these ceramics would go out of Vân Đồn to foreign markets as far as Java and the Middle East. This pattern continued through the middle of the fifteenth century. 

In 1434, according to the court chronicle, two officials of the new Lê regime were severely punished for attempting to deal privately with goods brought by ships from Java. The Lê code has several articles (articles 612, 614–16) specifically citing Vân Đôn, which may have been part of the original law code compiled by the royal court at the beginning of the dynasty in the 1430s. Here the code declared that officials were not to go near Vân Đôn except on official business, no residents of that area were to bring Chinese goods to the capital of Thăng Long (modern Hanoi) unless specifically permitted, and local officials of the Vân Đôn area were not to go out to sea to meet incoming ships. All four articles were designed to limit interference from officialdom in trade as well as to stop smuggling or other illegal dealings through the port. Lê officials also had to be most transparent in their dealings with trading ships. The geography (Dư đia chí) of 1435 noted that foreign visitors were restricted to the port and were not allowed to travel into the Red River Delta itself. To all appearances, the new government was trying to apply some structure and control to an otherwise fluid and prosperous commercial situation. 

(^ some comment on the bold part. Vietnamese government officials today should be the same! No corruption!)

The extent of this prosperous and fluid commercial situation may be gauged from the flourishing trade in ceramics through the century. It was an exceptional time in this trade as Thai, Cham, and Vietnamese production seems to have grown greatly during the “Ming gap”—the disappearance of Chinese ceramics from the maritime trade as the Ming government restricted private Chinese trade abroad. Although undoubtedly not totally effective in blocking this trade from its southeastern coast, the Beijing court’s restrictions still significantly decreased overseas ceramics trading and set the stage for the expansion of its competitors to the south. Through the decades of prohibited exports, Southeast Asian production and shipping appears to have soared, if recently excavated shipwrecks are any indication. Along with strong growth in the local ceramics trade, it is logical to assume that the ports linked to this production and trade thrived as well.

Kilns in Đai Viêt, especially those around Chu Đâu in the lower Red River Delta province of Hải Dương in Vân Đôn’s hinterland, were also producing for international markets. The most famous example of its ware is the piece, dated to 1450, today located in the splendid Topkapi Palace collection in Istanbul. Pieces from these kilns in Đai Viêt have been found in a number of shipwreck cargoes from the middle of the fifteenth century, and their production would continue through the century. The main items among these Vietnamese ceramics were blue and white stoneware. Influenced by Jingdezhen kiln patterns from China, these wares retained their own local flair and indigenous elements (especially birds). There were also influences in the form of market demands from Java (garuda, kendi [pouring vessels]) and as far west as the Middle East (shades of blue, large platters). Painted polychrome wares also came from Đai Viêt. 

Kilns flourished as the state of Đai Viêt reestablished itself following the short Ming occupation, bringing peace and prosperity back after many decades of war and disaster dating at least to 1371, when Champa first successfully invaded the Vietnamese realm. Now the new Lê aristocracy from the southwest mountains controlled the land, and consumption and trade grew in the village-based economy. The eastern delta, with its manufacturing and commercial sites, thrived. Vân Đôn served as a key point in both internal and external trade networks, and through this port Đai Viêt ceramics flowed south into the Southeast Asian networks (east Java, the Philippines), west to the Mediterranean, and north to the Ryukyus and Japan. 

Vietnamese ships continued to be active in the seas connecting Vân Đôn, Hainan Island, and the Guangxi port of Qinzhou. In 1449 and 1457, the Ming Shilu (the official Ming records compiled in Beijing) noted Vietnamese involvement in this area. In the first instance, a man from Guangdong Province complained: “Qinzhou is very close to Jiaozhi. The clothes and language of the inhabitants are very similar to those of Jiaozhi, and it is difficult to differentiate these people.” He wanted to Sinify the people of Qinzhou, in dress and speech and by means of village schools, thus distinguishing the locals from the Vietnamese. In the second, Guangdong officials reported that three-masted Vietnamese ships were constantly coming, in twos and threes, into Chinese waters after pearls, a total of more than 150 ships by that time.

Reign of Lê Thánh Tông: Governmental Change and Economic Policy

The final third of the fifteenth century in Đai Viêt was marked by a strong ideological change and the first significant penetration of the Vietnamese village by activist government officials. In addition, Đai Viêt’s military strength increased greatly and its foreign policy became significantly different. How did all these elements affect economic policy? 

The foundation of the changes occurred in the 1460s as a young, unexpected ruler, Lê Thánh Tông (r. 1460–1497), took the throne and worked with his close literati advisors to establish the contemporary Ming pattern of bureaucratic administration in his realm. In the process, Thánh Tông integrated the old aristocratic pattern into his new bureaucratic entity, while keeping the mountain aristocracy and their descendants in his capital of Thăng Long at the royal court or sending them out on military assignments and expeditions. Court discussions and economic policy thus involved both the aristocrats and the rising literati, all under the ever-vigilant view of the king. 

In the second year of his reign (1461), Thánh Tông sent out an order to his provincial officials to encourage agriculture and to ensure t hat their people had enough to eat and wear. “Do not cast aside the roots [agriculture] and pursue the insignificant [trade/commerce]!” he declared. No con men, wanderers, or loafers would be allowed, and those not working hard on their lands were to be officially reported. 

Four years later, the king took the first step in developing his economic policy, making “legible” the resources of the realm. This meant writing down in village registers their human and material resources and bringing the registers into the capital to be copied, every six years. The government also took it upon itself to improve the general economic situation, establishing offices to handle dikes and encourage agriculture. Later Thánh Tông made rules for marketplaces and standardization of weights and measures. Overall, he exhibited a strong responsibility for the well-being of his people in their economic pursuits, agricultural and commercial. How then did Lê Thánh Tông and his new regime respond to foreign commerce and international trade? 

The chronicle of his reign, written by officials of the sixteenth-century Mac dynasty, made little direct reference to it (and only one mention of Vân Đôn). We know that ships from Java, Sumatra, and Siam arrived in 1467, though only the latter explicitly at Vân Đôn. Yet the court had negative dealings with those from Sumatra and Siam, playing to Beijing in the years before the Champa invasion by seizing Chinese from off the former’s ships and sending them back to China, while refusing the offerings of the latter. Thánh Tông thus refused to play the standard international games. More particularly, he and his court worried about the Tongking Gulf waters they shared with Guangxi. When a Chinese ship ran aground in the northern coastal province of An Bang in 1467, Thánh Tông was quite suspicious of possible Ming schemes and would not allow the Chinese to return home. 

Thánh Tông and his court were also suspicious of ethnic activities along their northern mountain border, and it is possible that these concerns extended out to sea. Just as they desired to maintain stability and dominance among the highland peoples living between them and the Ming, as in An Bang, so too did they feel uneasy about the sea peoples and the scattered islands lying between them and the Chinese coast. This world was also difficult to manage to the satisfaction of the throne of Đai Viêt. Too many opportunities existed there for mobile lawless groups to raise havoc for their own profit. 

In 1469, Thánh Tông declared that the state held a monopoly on weapons and forbade private individuals from possessing them, after which he put out an order that anyone who captured pirates would be promoted. A year later, the king sent his own elite Kim Ngô troops out after such pirates. Just as significant, the king punished one of his naval officers, a captured Chinese who had ended up as a personal slave of the king while the latter was still a prince. This officer had violated orders and deserved execution, but recognition of his previous service saw the sentence commuted to becoming a common soldier tilling fields. Even a man with such a long personal relationship to the king was not immune from punishment. It would appear that Thánh Tông was quite serious about keeping the seas calm and controlled off his shores. 

Records from the Ming capital of Beijing reveal aspects of this coastal situation as well. That these details reached the Chinese capital and made it into the court records there indicates the Ming seriousness about the coastal situation. Around this time (perhaps the 1467 incident mentioned above), a Chinese ship ran ashore on the coast of Đai Viêt on its way from Hainan Island to Qinzhou. The thirteen men on board were captured and kept in Đai Viêt. The Thăng Long court sent most of them to agricultural colonies, but one, Wu Rui, was made a eunuch (as he later claimed) and spent about a quarter century as a palace attendant. Escaping after Thánh Tông’s death in 1497, Wu returned to China and his story appeared at the court in Beijing. Was the ship “off course” as he claimed? It was most probably involved in regular trade, part of the coastal Jiaozhi Yang circuit described earlier; but, if so, the fact undoubtedly could not be disclosed, even after so long, at the inland imperial court. Rather than being a chance occurrence, might this ship have been part of the standard travel and trade of the time, and might the incident have marked a change in approach by the court of Đai Viêt, cracking down on such coastal contacts? 

Another Ming Shilu record from 1472 spoke of “Jiao people” sailing “large double-masted ships,” again to the pearl beds, but also attacking merchant ships. Reports had come from Hainan Island and the Guangzhou coast on this matter. The Ming emperor called on Thánh Tông to end such activities. The court of Đai Viêt denied its people would do such things, but noted that “pirates” (“over thirty ships”) were bothering its own coast as well. Although the Vietnamese had driven them off, Thánh Tông still commented how difficult it was to keep track of the seagoing folk. Another Shilu item of that same year also mentioned dealings between men of Fujian and foreigners on the seas.