In 1711, now forty-seven, McBane quarreled with two Dutch soldiers; the ensuing brawl left both men dying. Once again he was compelled to flee, only this time he was captured by the French and drafted into their ranks. It didn’t take him long to kill two of his new comrades—another argument over pay—and he was arrested. The following day a drum major from Marlborough’s army arrived to exchange prisoners. “Take him,” the French general pleaded, “for if he stays he will kill all my men.”
By 1712 the Flanders wars—in which both Cyrano de Bergerac and Guy Fawkes had fought in their day—were drifting to an end, and McBane returned to Britain, to a new marriage and a career with James Figg and his companions. He reenlisted once more, in 1715 against the Jacobite rebellion, and served until discharged because his many old wounds were troubling him. In 1726 “I fought a clean young man at Edinburgh. I gave him seven wounds and broke his arm with the fauchion. This I did at the request of several noblemen and gentlemen. But now being sixty-three years of age, resolve never to fight any more, but to repent of my former wickedness.”
† One of my earliest fencing memories was reaching the foil final of the public school–boys’ championships. This was before electrical equipment, and to the surprise of those watching I made several hits by riposting with my right arm coming through behind my left—in effect riposting behind my back. I can still remember the judges collapsing in laughter as I appeared to be scratching my left buttock with the back of my right hand. Little did the judges or I know that Mihály Fullop of Hungary had won the world title in 1957 by employing the same tactic.
‡ Lee produced a seven-volume work entitled The Tao of Jeet Kune Do. In it he reproduced long extracts from the writings of Julio M. Castello, C.-L. de Beaumont, and especially the French master Roger Crosnier. He also borrowed extensively from works on boxing, kinetics, and philosophy, throughout replacing the words “fencer” with “fighter,” “blade” with “arm,” and “fencing” with “JKD” (Jeet Kune Do). The rationale of this mishmash is that, as masters often refer to one’s chosen weapon as an extension of one’s fencing arm, why not close the distance and use one’s arm as if it were a sword? In his version of this ultimate martial art, Lee’s arm supplies the stop-hit, riposte, and counterattack usually offered by a sword; wrist control and circular motions become paramount. Lee never actually participated in a fencing competition—just fought practice bouts with his wife. He nicely commented on his system: “If someone comes at you with a sword, run if you can. Kung Fu doesn’t always work.”6
The sword was to be far more than a simple weapon; it had to be an answer to life’s questions.
—EIJI YOSHIKAWA, Musashi
The Way of the Sword and the Way of Zen are identical, for they have the same purpose—that of killing the ego.
—YAMADA JIROKICHI
WE ARE ENTERING ANOTHER WORLD, WHERE THE SWORD IS AN instrument not just of self-protection but of intrinsic self-perfection. In Japan, swordfighting has always been a spiritual endeavor. In the Shinto religion, the sword is central to rituals of purification and exorcism. The nineteenth-century master Yamaoaka Tesshu spoke of the sword of the mind, with which, fortified by all he has learned, the fencer is spiritually invulnerable in combat, able to rise above the concerns of life or death. This approach is one taken by students of Zen—as an ancient Japanese saying has it, “Nothing can set honor so right as the cut of a sword.”
The basic word for sword in Japanese is “ken,” though a bewildering array of terms can be found to describe this most sacred talisman.* The earliest known Japanese swords date from the second century B.C.; anywhere from two to four feet in length, they were copies of Chinese originals, long and straight and used mainly for thrusting. At the beginning of the eighth century A.D., a more effective model, with a pronounced curve, appeared and quickly became the monopoly of the professional fighting man. The refinement of the sword went hand in hand with the rise of the warrior class, the samurai or bushi (literally, “the martial elite,” as distinct from conscripts, court officials, or palace guards). From 1185 on Japan was dominated by warriors, and the principal history of swordplay in Japan properly dates from that period.
In 1274 and again in 1281 the Mongol rulers of China attempted to invade the country, precipitating a revolution in Japanese military thinking. Prior to that time a battle had resembled a huge fencing match, with men fighting as individuals, not as units of a tactical formation, each soldier searching out an opponent of his social level to fight, then at battle’s end proceeding to his commander in chief’s tent to submit for inspection the heads of those he had killed. In the fourteenth century mounted archers were replaced by foot soldiers who carried short swords, and the art of swordfighting (iai-jutsu) and other martial arts became essential.
It was the era of the shoguns (literally, “barbarian-subduing generalissimos” but the term later came to mean “the hereditary chancellors of state”), under whose reign society became set into five classes: the nobility, samurai, farmers, artisans, and merchants. Originally the samurai were drawn from the countryside, individual warriors who fought entirely in their own interest. By the eleventh century, they had emerged as a distinct group who pledged their allegiance to clans ruled by local feudal lords, often no more than quasi bandit chieftains. The word “samurai” means “retainer” and comes from the verb “saburau,” “to serve,” and loyal servants they by necessity became. However, as their chiefs became more polished princelings, ever greedier for territory, the samurai developed into a professional military class. The private wars between warlords endured for more than four centuries, during which time the samurai evolved into fearsome warriors.
The essence of a samurai’s worth lay in his mastery of swordsmanship. The sword was not just a weapon but a vehicle for seishin tanren, a spiritual forging that enabled the user to wipe out moral stains and to achieve satori, spiritual perfection. The sword, along with the symbolic mirror and jewel, played a key role in Japanese imperial life, each of the three being handed down from ruler to ruler as tokens of their supreme authority. The mirror was to catch things as they were, good or evil, and symbolized the true force of fairness and justice; the jewel represented gentleness and piety; the sword, “firm, sharp, and quickly decisive,” was seen as the receptacle of “the true origins of all wisdom.”1
IN 1573 THE WARLORD ODA NOBUNAGA BECAME SHOGUN OF ALMOST all Japan. Upon his assassination a decade later, one of his leading officers, Toyotomi Hideyoshi (“Old Monkey Face”), took his place, and, determined to consolidate his control throughout the empire, sought to eliminate all private arms. On July 8, 1588, he issued his famous “sword hunt” edict: farmers were forbidden “to keep swords, short swords, spears, firearms and other military weapons.” Were they allowed to keep such “unnecessary implements,” the document continued, they would be tempted to “evade their taxes” or even “plot uprisings.” Political spin was then applied: “The swords thus collected will not be wasted. They will be used as nails and bolts in the construction of a Great Image of Buddha.”
Within two years the entire peasantry had been disarmed (although no great statue of Buddha was raised). The measures helped support the new barrier between farmer and warrior, so that the two most important social groups of society were differentiated not only economically but also by social status, as symbolized by the wearing of swords.2
Hideyoshi died in 1598, and for two years Japan was torn apart by civil war. Then on October 21, 1600, on a broad plain east of Kyoto, one of the greatest clan leaders, Tokugawa Ieyasu, and his allies, some 85,000 men, took on the massed might of their enemies, the armies of the west, numbering about 130,000. By day’s end Ieyasu had triumphed, and he and his descendants would rule Japan for well over two hundred years, bringing peace, prosperity, and a flourishing of the arts—especially swordplay.
In 1603 Ieyasu was appointed shogun and established his government at Edo (renamed Tokyo in 1868). He publicly venerated the divine emperor in
Kyoto, the remote god-sovereign of Japan, but saw to it that within his domain law, government, and education, as well as the costume and behavior of each class, were highly controlled, almost like a nationwide eastern Versailles. What had been traditional caste consciousness hardened into a form of centralized feudalism in which the samurai—including the great nobles, senior officials, warriors, and lesser functionaries—constituted the highest class, in esteem if not in wealth. After 1600 the warrior order became a closed caste.
Ieyasu gradually disbanded the great provincial armies. Out-of-work samurai, known as “ronin” (“wave men,” because they washed around like the sea) roamed the country. They found themselves in a society based on the old codes of honor yet with no place for them. Ieyasu knew that he had to contend with the threat posed by these hundreds of thousands of battle-hardened men and tacitly allowed personal duels, as well as challenge matches between the various schools of martial arts that sprouted up to cater for the demand for fencing lessons. He also encouraged the ronin’s involvement in such arts as calligraphy and poetry. These arts soon rose to the highest form of study, inspired by the teachings of Buddhism, with its stress on self-denial and overcoming the ego, and supported by Shintoism, with its general anthropomorphism and Nature worship.
Buddhism had been carried into China early in the seventh century by the Indian monk Bodhidharma but was transformed under the influence of that practical civilization. The Indian word for contemplative meditation is “dyana”; this became “ch’an” in Chinese, and “Zen” when this form of Buddhism finally crossed into Japan around 1200, originally establishing itself as a separate Buddhist sect before spreading rapidly among the warrior class. Hence Zen Buddhism was the result of the spiraling interrelationship of three great civilizations, Indian, Chinese, and Japanese. In India, Buddhism became a complex and highly intellectual system of metaphysical speculation before withering away. Chinese masters were distrustful of such intellectualism and taught that the intellect too had to be transcended for true enlightenment.
The word “shinto” did not come into use till well after the introduction of Buddhism and was formulated in contrast to “butsudo” (“the Way of the Buddha”). Shintoism, which was never more than a cult, is not a religion or system of thought but an expression of national character. The real religion of Japan, however, was neither the law of the Buddha (buppo) nor the Path of the Gods (shinto), but the Way of the Warrior (bushido).3
The philosophical underpinning of samurai behavior, the “Way of the Warrior,” was a direct consequence of Ieyasu’s triumph of 1600. There was a need for a system to discipline displaced samurai, who at least had the leisure time to elaborate it. By contrast, as one Buddhist scholar noted, “the farmers, artisans, and merchants” ought to practice the Confucian virtues, but they had “no leisure from their occupations, and so they cannot constantly act in accordance with them and fully exemplify the Way.”4
Kendo (“the Way of the Sword”) flourished, and fencing schools, known as ryu, multiplied; soon there were several hundred spread throughout the country, each contributing to the cult of sacrifice and austerity as much as to the honing of skills. Kendo was a discipline and a continuous testing, and no Japanese would have seen it as a “sport,” an alien and even frivolous concept, but the increasing emphasis on competition and the evolution of the role of masters point to how far battlefield skills were being sublimated.
One of the greatest historians of Japan, Charles Boxer, was also a keen student of kendo. By his account, masters were not only drawn from the warrior caste—in the early years of Ieyasu’s reign, Portuguese Jesuit missionaries observed with disgust that their counterparts, the Buddhist monks, were keen swordsmen. Worse, the Franciscan friars, whose recruiting was hampered by their speaking little Japanese and who found themselves unable to hear confessions properly, were teaching “such unedifying subjects as fencing (Japanese style presumably) in order to attract potential converts to their Kyoto convent.”5
Whereas a Westerner might say “The pen is mightier than the sword,” a Japanese would reply, “Bun bu chi”—“pen and sword in accord.” In Japanese culture, once something had been accepted as a serious activity it was developed into michi or do—a Way. This was true for such diverse undertakings as cha-do (the art of the tea ceremony), kyudo (archery), and ikebana (flower arrangement).
The Way of the Sword was a controlling force of life. At the age of five a samurai boy would be dressed in traditional costume, put onto a go board (361 squares representing a battlefield) and have a sword thrust into his belt. Thus was he initiated as a warrior. He would later be given a long sword (a katana or uchigatana), which he would wear out of doors, and a shorter one (a wakizashi or shoto), which he would carry at all times. Together they formed his essential apparel, known as “great and small” (daisho), to be kept next to his pillow at night. This custom of wearing two swords was peculiar to Japan. The short sword was not used in actual fighting but would be employed for cutting off an enemy’s head after defeating him and also served the conquered soldier in his last resort, suicide.
The rules of conduct for a samurai varied, each feudal chief prescribing his own code, but there was a degree of uniformity. One not untypical set of regulations, formulated in the sixteenth century by the celebrated general, Kato Kiyomasa, had seven main clauses:
The following regulations are to be observed by samurai of every rank, the highest and the lowest alike:
1. The routine of service must be strictly observed. From 6 A.M. military exercises shall be practiced. Archery, gunnery and equestrianism must not be neglected. If any man shows greater proficiency than his comrades in the way of the bushi, he shall receive greater pay.
2. Those who desire recreation may engage in hawking, deer-hunting or wrestling.
3. With regard to dress, garments of cotton or pongee [a soft unbleached kind of Chinese silk] shall be worn. Anyone incurring debts owing to extravagance of costume or living shall be considered a law-breaker. If, however, being zealous in the practice of military arts suitable to his rank, a man desires to hire instructors, an allowance for that purpose may be granted to him.
4. The staple of diet shall be unhulled rice. At social entertainments, one guest for one host is the proper limit. Only when men are assembled for military exercises should many dine together.
5. It is the duty of every samurai to make himself acquainted with the principles of his craft. Extravagant displays of adornment are forbidden in battle.
6. Dancing or organizing dances is unlawful and is likely to betray sword-carrying men to acts of violence. Whatever a man does should be done with his heart. Therefore for the soldier military amusements alone are suitable. The penalty for violating this provision is death by suicide.
7. Learning should be encouraged. Military books must be read. The spirit of loyalty and filial piety must be educated before all things. Poem-composing pastimes are not to be engaged in by samurai. To be addicted to such amusements is to resemble a woman. A man born a samurai should live and die sword in hand. Unless he be thus trained in time of peace, he will be useless in the hour of stress. To be brave and warlike must be his invariable condition.
Whoever finds these rules too severe shall be relieved from service. Should investigation show that anyone is so unfortunate as to lack manly qualities, he shall be singled out and dismissed forthwith. The imperative character of these instructions must not be doubted.6
From the earliest times the samurai code called for a peculiarly intense and self-conscious sense of personal pride and “face,” often manifested in swaggering and bullying behavior. This could lead to irrational and self-defeating acts. At the end of the eleventh century, during what was called, prosaically, the Later Three Years’ War, a young warrior, one Kagemasa, barely sixteen, was struck by an arrow in the left eye. With the shaft still protruding from his face, he managed to close in on and kill his adversary before falling. A colleague tried to help him by putting his f
oot against Kagemasa’s cheek to pull out the arrow. Kagemasa indignantly cried out that while as a samurai he was willing to die from his wound he would never allow another man to put his foot on his face and jumping up tried to kill his comrade.7
As a rule, a sword would be grasped with both hands, the point upward and the hilt held at three quarters of an arm’s length from the body. Cuts were almost entirely downward or horizontal, and a stroke’s effectiveness depended mainly on a swift drawing motion given to the blade as it began to bite. There were sixteen varieties of cut, each with its own name, such as the “four-sides cut,” the “clearer,” the “wheel stroke,” the “thunder stroke,” the “peak blow,” the “torso severer,” the “pear splitter,” the “scarf sweep,” and so on.†
It was not merely the method of handling one’s weapon that had to be studied. Associated with swordplay was an art variously called shinobi, yawara, and jiu-jutsu, whose aim was to gain the maximum effect from a minimum of effort by directing an enemy’s strength against himself. Originally, expertise in swordplay was gained through experience: mastery was self-taught. However, as better swords were crafted and schools were set up, a body of fencing technique evolved. Kenjutsu, the art of the sword, came to be seen as a discipline of great power.
When a student had mastered one style of swordplay, he set himself to study others. An especially talented student would tour the country, fencing whenever he encountered an expert and in the event of defeat becoming the victor’s pupil. Defeat was to be taken as evidence of his own inferiority, not as something to be resented or avenged; but this rule was frequently more honored in the breach than it was observed. Defeat could mean ruin: a master with a flourishing school and a healthy income might find both threatened by losing to an itinerant samurai.
Duels took place in fencing halls (dojo, which also meant sites devoted to religious exercises, or places of enlightenment), before shrines, in the streets, and within castle walls, and were often fought to the death or at least disablement. Contrary to some reports, duels flourished almost as much as in Western Europe; they simply took different forms. They were generally one-on-one, and there was no precedent in judicial duel or trial by combat. Nor was the concept of individual honor as dominant as in the West; samurai identified instead with a clan leader and lived by a group ethic. Duels were fought not to avenge slights or slander but to prove one’s supremacy as a warrior. “There were no seconds,” Robert Baldick asserts, “for it was regarded as inconceivable that a knight might commit any action contrary to honor while engaging in a duel of honor.”8 That might have been the popular conception, but rules were often violated. Even after weapons, time, and place had been set, the parties might proceed as if no agreement had been reached; to do otherwise would in many instances have been to invite defeat. Duelists would employ any assortment of underhand tricks, and a swordsman might well arrive with a band of followers who would attack and cut down his opponent.
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