# Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan/Series 1/Volume 2/The Sword of Japan

THE SWORD OF JAPAN; ITS HISTORY AND TRADITIONS.
BY
THOMAS H. R. McCLATCHIE, Esq.
Read before the Asiatic Society of Japan
on the 26th November, 1873.
———o———
There is, perhaps, no country in the world where the sword, that “knightly weapon of all ages,” has, in its time, received so much honour and renown as it has in Japan. Regarded, as it was, as being of divine origin, dear to the general as the symbol of his authority, cherished by the samurai as almost a part of his own self, and considered by the common people as their protector against violence, what wonder that we should find it spoken of in glowing terms by Japanese writers as “the precious possession of lord and vassal from times older than the divine period,” or as “the living soul of the samurai?”
The sword has in Japan a history of its own, and has formed the subject of several treatises, written with the object of assisting the student of the art of fixing the date and maker’s name of a blade, an art which, apparently, was a subject of great attention from olden times. Among these the principal works are the “Kotô Meijin,” or “Collection of names of old swords,” and the “Shintô Bengi,” or “Reference as to New Swords.” The former was compiled, in 1791 A.D. by Kamada Saburôdaiyu. The expression “old swords” is explained as applying ​to those made before the 8th year of the period Keichô, or 1603 A.D., while all those manufactured after the same date are included under the heading of “new sword.”
Saburôdaiyu, in his preface to the “Reference as to New Swords,” gives a short sketch of the Japanese legends regarding the history of the weapon; and though his allusions, in connection with his subject, to the mythology of his country may perhaps provoke a smile, still they are worthy of note as being the words of an author who is generally held to be a high authority on the matter of which he treats. The translation of this sketch reads as follows:—
“If we search out in by-gone days the origin of the sword, we find that our country excelled barbarian localities in regard to metal. In the olden times of the Divine period, when Izanagi and Izanami no Mikoto, standing upon the floating bridge of Heaven, thrust down their glittering blade and probed the blue ocean, the drops from its point congealed and hardened and became an island, after which the deities created several other islands. These eventually became a large country composed of eight islands, and amongst the many names of this country—they styled it too the Land of ‘many blades.’ In its early days, there existed the Divine Swords Tô-nigiri and Ya-nigiri. Then, too, when Sosanoö no Mikoto smote the eight-clawed Great Dragon, and struck him on the tail, the sword of the deity became slightly nicked, and from the inside of the tail he drew out a single blade. ‘This,’ said he, ‘is a marvellous sword,’ and he caused it to be presented to Tenshô Daijin. This was styled the ‘Sword of the Clustering Clouds of Heaven,’ and also the ‘Grass-mowing Sword.’ Should not this be said to be the commencement of fixing the dates of swords? That ‘Sword of the Clustering Clouds’ was made one of the ‘Three Divine precious things,’ (i.e. the Seal, Sword and Mirror held by the Mikados),—“it has had no equal in this country, and, being the gigantic weapon that watches over it, is a thing of great dread even to speak ​of. Now, when our country had arrived at the Heavenly rule of Sûjin Tennô, the 10th of the mortal Emperors, he feared to dwell in the same palace with the ‘Divine precious thing,’ and so he caused a person called Amakuni, a man of the department of Uda in the province of Yamato, a far-removed descendant of Me-hitotsu-gami, to forge an imitation of the sword, and as for the ‘Clustering clouds’ that had descended from the Divine age, he was pleased to offer it up to the shrine of Tensho Daijin. Under the heavenly rule of Keikô Tennô, Yamato Také no Mikoto, at the time of his expedition against the East, went to pay reverence at the shrines of Isé. His aunt, Yamato Himé no Mikoto, was the resident of the shrine at that period, and she besought that the Divine Sword of the ‘Clustering Clouds’ might be handed down to him from the shrine, and so gave it over to Yamato Také no Mikoto, together with a tinder-case attached. This is said to have been the origin of the custom of fastening a charm-case to a sword as a guardian for children. Yamato Také no Mikoto, having accomplished the subjugation of the East, offered up the sword at Atsuta in the province of Owari. Up to the present day, the virtue of this sword, permanent and immutable even unto the end of myriads of ages, is the guardian of our country and our homes, and the protector of our own selves. In no way can it be fully described by the pen! The second “precious sword” was buried in the Western seas at the time of the death of Antoku Tennô (1185 A.D.)”
Throughout the whole of the above passage, the word ‘sword’ is invariably rendered by the Japanese word ‘ken,’ which signifies a long, straight, double-edged sword, as opposed to the ‘katana,’ of modern times, which has but a single edge, and is slightly curved towards the point. The ‘ken’ is the oldest form, and the ‘katana’ the newest, while between the two comes a sword much like the ‘katana,’ only a great deal more curved. A beautiful specimen of a ‘ken’ is now in the possession of the most noted fencing master of Yedo. ​It is abont three feet in length, and perfectly straight; the blade is some two and a-half inches in breadth, and the point somewhat heart-shaped. It is exceedingly heavy, double-edged, and engraved with various devices. This ‘ken’ is said to be between seven and eight hundred years old. The curved sword was worn swinging from a belt, to which it was attached by two strips of leather; it appears to have been a common style of war-sword, and was generally very short. The shape of the ‘katana’ was obtained by dividing the heavy ‘ken’ down the centre of the blade, thus producing two single-edged swords of more convenient weight. Besides these again, there is the ‘wakizashi,’ or short dirk, the custom of wearing which together with the ‘katana,’ as a sign of gentle birth, is said to have been introduced about the commencement of the Ashikaga dynasty, in the early part of the 14th century. The length of this dirk has of late years been gradually lessened to about nine and a-half inches. This is the weapon with which the ceremony of hara-kiri was performed, the dirk being then presented to the principal on a small square tray made of white wood, such as is used in temples. Hence the allusion, in a popular song written at the time of the recent Revolution,—“The gift I wish to present to my lord of Aidzu is ‘nine and a-half inches’ on a temple tray,”—meaning that the author of the song, who was evidently attached to the loyal party, desired nothing better than the death of the nobleman in question.
The names of noted smiths are many in number. The first who appears to be a really authentic personage is one Amakuni, who lived during the reign of the 42nd Emperor Mommu Tennô (about 696–707 A.D.) He is stated to have been a man of Uda in Yamato, and this circumstance, coupled with the fact of similarity of name, induces the belief that he was a remote descendant of that Amakuni whose name has been mentioned above as having made a sword in imitation of the Divine blade called “Clustering Clouds.” There are various tales of other clever smiths before the time of Mommu Tennô, but it ​is hard to place munch reliance on these legends. With regard to latter times, the “Reference as to New Swords” says, “The good makers of olden days were Kamigé, Shinsoku, and Amaza,—and of the middle ages, Munéchika, Yasutsuma, Sanémori, Yukihira, and Yoshimitsu, with Kuniyoshi of Awataguchi (in Kiôto). There were many Bizen men of old,—in the period Shôkin (1217–1220 A.D.) there were numerous artizans,—and subsequently came Masamuné and Yoshihiro, who were universally renowed.” Of the above names, Yoshimitsu is placed by the author of the work as first in point of merit.
It appears rather strange that in this list there should not be found the name of Muramasa, who is certainly one of the most widely known smiths of Japan; it is most probable that his name was omitted by some oversight, as he is mentioned elsewhere in the book. The four makers of swords who seem to be best known in Japan are Munéchika, Masamuné, Yoshimitsu, and Muramasa. Of these Munéchika is by far the oldest; he was born in 938 A.D. and his swords were famous from 987 A.D. downwards. Masamune and Yoshimitsu acquired their renown towards the end of the 13th century, while Muramasa did not appear till nearly a century after them. These makers, as indeed all smiths of any note, had their own marks which they engraved on the hilt of the sword, most frequently accompanied by a date, but as, of late years, the practice of counterfeiting the marks of well known makers has been largely indulged in, these are not always to he depended upon. Muramasa was succeeded by his son and his grandson, who both bore the same name, and the latter of whom flourished in the early part of the 15th century. The blades turned out by this family acquired the unenviable reputation of being unlucky and of frequently bringing their owners into trouble. Mr. Mitford, in his “Tales of Old Japan,” narrates the legend as to the reason why the Yoshimitsu blades were deemed of good omen in the Tokugawa family, while those of Muramasa were thought unlucky.
​The profession of the smith was deemed an honourable one, and those who engaged in it were generally men of good family. It is mentioned of the Emperor Gotoba Tennô, who succeeded to the throne in 1184, that not only did he “give directions to the noted smiths of the various provinces and make them forge, but also worked with his own hand.” In later years the famous smiths received from the Court an honorary rank, which was in proportion to the renown they had gained. Thus it is a common thing to see engraved on a sword the name of the maker, with the title “kami of such and such a province” appended. This, however, is also explained by the assertion that the maker engraved on his work the title of the nobleman in whose jurisdiction he lived; but of the two explanations the first-named is apparently more worthy of credit. To these names a date is generally added, while on the other side of this hilt is occasionally written a motto or a verse of poetry, some of which are rather curious. Subjoined are a few of these, selected at random:—
“There’s nought ’twixt Heaven and Earth that man need fear, who carries at his belt this single blade:”—again,—“One’s fate is in the hands of Heaven, but a skilful fighter does not meet with death.”—and again,—“In one’s last days, one’s sword becomes the wealth of one’s posterity.”
Apart from these mottoes, it was a common custom to give names to famous swords. ‘Little Crown’ was the title of one in great repute in the Taira family, while in the house of Minamoto there were two hereditary swords named “Hiyékire” and “Hizumaru.” The two latter names arose from the circumstance that when these swords were tried on two criminals sentenced to decapitation, one cut through the beard of the victim after severing the head from the body, while the other also divided the knee. The historian Rai Sanyo narrates the fact that the forging of these two swords occupied the smith for a period of sixty days. The dirk with which Asano Takumi no Kami, the lord of the famous “forty-seven rônins,” ​committed harakiri, is still preserved at the temple of Sengakuji in Yedo, while swords alleged to have belonged to Minamoto no Yoritomo and to Taiko Hidéyoshi are to this day shown at the temple of Hachiman at Kamakura.
It was the writer’s good fortune, in the spring of the present year, to pay a visit to the famous shrines of Nikko, in the province of Shimotsuké. The highest mountain of that cluster of hills is called Nantaisan, and has been considered for many ages a sacred place. Upon this mountain are several small torii, or gateways, such as are seen leading up to Japanese temples, and these guide the traveller to a small shrine at the summit. Here, on a bare rock overhanging a steep precipice some sixty or seventy feet in depth, lay, half-buried in the snow, a large number of sword-blades, old and rusted, which had evidently lain there exposed to the wind and rain for many years back. Tradition says that, in old days, any one who had committed a deed of blood with any weapon, was accustomed to make a pilgrimage to this mountain, and there fling away the instrument as a sort of expiation for his crime. The guides on the spot, however, stated that though this was doubtless true in many cases, still it was not an absolute fact. Among the sword-blades there lay one, broken into three pieces, but which when whole must have been not less than eight feet in length. This sword bore a date of some twenty-one years back, and the maker’s name, Izawa Gijirô, who turned out to be a smith late of renown in the castle-town of Utsunomiya, some few miles off. Many a tale of blood, no doubt, could those old blades have told, had they a voice; but there they lay, as still as the hands that once wielded them, fitting emblems of the decay, in these days, of that once deep-rooted pride which was wont to cherish the sword, under the belief that it was the source of manly spirit, and the very fountain of honour.
The different ways of carrying the sword are stated by some Japanese to have been indicative of the rank of the wearer. Thus, persons of high birth are said ​to have generally worn it with the hilt pointing straight upwards, almost parallel with the body; the common people to have stuck it horizontally in the belt; while ordinary samurai wore it in a position about half-way between the two just quoted. This, however, does. not appear to be an idea worthy of much credence, for all visitors to Yedo some three years ago must have noticed that the style of carrying it first quoted above was one that found great favour in the eyes of the low-class swashbucklers of the Capital, who frequently were seen swaggering about girt with weapons placed perpendicularly in their belts and reaching almost from the level of their chins to their ankles. To clash the sheath of one’s sword against that belonging to another person was held to be a grave breach of etiquette;—to turn the sheath in the belt, as though about to draw, was tantamount to a challenge;—while to lay one’s weapon on the floor of a room, and to kick the guard with the foot, in the direction of any one else, was a deadly insult that generally resulted in a combat to the death. It was not even thought polite to draw a sword from its sheath without begging the permission of any other persons present.
The decay of the practice of wearing swords is certainly a hopeful sign of more intelligent and orderly times. The contrast between the present peaceful condition of the great cities of Japan, and that of the same places a few years back, is in itself a sufficient argument that the swords were not really needed, but were, on the contrary, incentives to violence. Tales of unfortunate dogs serving as a test for the sword of the roystering student, or of some wretched foot passenger losing his life beneath the stroke of a ruffian anxious to try the edge of his blade by what is so expressively styled in Japanese “cross-road cutting,” are happily now unknown. That these tales were, even in former times, much exaggerated is more than likely, but that such things did actually occur is beyond all doubt, and it is gratifying to find the Japanese themselves so far awakened to a sense of the uselessness ​of their once dearly-cherished swords as actually to ridicule, in the public press, the few who still adhere to the old custom. Honesty of purpose and firmness in action,—straight-forward dealing and steadfast endeavour, will do far more to help on this country to her proper place among the nations of the world, than could ever have been achieved by means of her formerly much-prized possession, the “girded sword of Great Japan.”