ARSCIVES - GALLERY: Clarity and Virtue

Yu, the Great, knew the art of melting metals. He knew how to distinguish between male and female metals. The hares of Wou, of whose bile a pair of swords was made, were a couple, hence each of the swords has a different sex. The temper comes from the union of water and fire. At that very instant, swords may some times transform into a dragon. Yin swords remain in the creeks were they are tempered. Thus the tendency of swords to plummet into the waters to seek for their lost partner. The most famous waterway, where one finds Dragon Gorge, is named the Creek of Swords precisely because it was there that a sword became a dragon and took off into the air as it was about to be tempered.

Che yi ki; Tsuo tchuan
quoted by Marcel Granet
in Danses et Légendes de la Chine Ancienne

Masamune and Masurama were both weapon makers, manufacturers of swords of the highest reputation. The first had a violent and irascible temper and was usually seen as a gloomy, unsettling character. He made terrible blades that attracted bloody fights and could even, at times, harm their owners. These swords enjoyed a malignant and fearsome fame. On the other hand, Masamune was a serene person, performing the rites of purification every time he worked. His swords were extremely appreciated and considered the best in the country. One day, a man wished to test the difference between the weapons made by the two manufacturers. So, he placed them both in a creek. The leafs that floated on the surface were sliced in half as soon as they touched Masurama’s blade whilst seemingly avoiding Masamune’s sword, gliding on its the edge intact as if the blade wished to spare them. Finally ,the man came to a verdict: the Masurama is terrible; the Masamune is human.

Few objects are the source of such fascination as the sword. So much so, that the sword emerges as a symbol of the most decisive representations of power. A symbol of strength, of war, but also of law and peace, capable of protecting life and dispensing death, the sword is found alongside civilisations – and with them alongside the imagination of humanity – almost from our origins until today. The simple fact that in our time – when its most immediate function ( that of combat) has been lost– it still stirs our interest and passion is the unmistakable proof that the old fascination endures. When the most immediate characteristic of its functionality has been exhausted, clearer aspects of that affection, of that complex relationship between men and an object of his creation, have come to light that lead to a number of reflections on matters of aesthetics, symbolism, history, ethnology, psychology, technology. The whole range of human knowledge is brought into light, in the exact proportion of its importance as a tool of civilisation1.

This importance is confirmed by numerous testimonies in the field of myth, literature, and within the technological and political discourse. The discourse on the sword widely transcends that of its more obvious and closest users ( forgers , weapon makers, warriors) to take over the time and the minds of those who dwell in different areas of human activity.

If we may consider that there are objects whose existence does not affect or surprise us, whose space and performance are, so to speak, at the mercy of our control, the sword – as a technical object – escapes that desire for control not just from the common sense point of view ( considering it may both give death and safeguard life) but inasmuch as it emerges as a symbol charged with rather peculiar characteristics.

In the absence of its martial usage the sword didn’t disappear from our contemporary world because its role has always been beyond that of a mere instrument of combat2. This may derive from the singular aspect that inspired its sacralisation : the sword may be perfected but, in its kind, it cannot be surpassed. In fact, we may admit that metal alloys went through a process of evolution and that forgers and weapon makers are capable, today, of producing blades of a finer quality ( which probably isn’t even true)3; it is also certain that the shape of the sword has been modified, perhaps rather taking into account the type of army it should serve than in view of any effective improvement. But the course of History did not provide, and it seems it will not provide in the future, a metal weapon to cut and pierce so adjusted, as a physical and psychological extension, to the measure of man4.

Being a form that is sensed as unsurpassable, the sword is an object whose sacrality confuses and seduces its own creator, as if the weapon maker would be likened to a parturient, an assistant to the hierophany 5 of a divine birth.

These symbolic conceptions have an ancient origin in all civilisations as milestones of ruptures with the past, specially due to the advent of metal technology – the mysteries of which were explained in a vague way or emerged in disguise from under the veil of iniciatic and esoteric languages.

Either in Chinese mythology or in the Japanese tale – that open this introduction – the sword appears as an ambivalent symbol: male/female, Yin/Yang, terrible/protector, exterminator/life giver. Following the image of its creator, though endowed with an higher power. The discourses on metallurgy and sword making, either literal or allegoric, are valuable clues to the understanding of some of the more fascinating roads of mankind’s adventure.

1In today’s world, the sword is an esthetical object, specially a collector’s item. However, it didn’t loose its character as an object of prestige that embodies human knowledge from technology, to history, to culture.

2It should be noted and even in fairly modern armies, as that of Napoleon, the use of swords was reserved to officers despite the major role in combat belonging to fire weapons. The sword is a sign of distinction and a manifestation social hierarchy. It is known that in Europe and elsewhere the learning of swordmanship was a privilege of noble families.

3There are stories that allude to the existence of extraordinary swords, whose virtues largely surpass contemporary swords. Nevertheless, the truth is that from the 9^th century onwards, namely in Japan, little has been added to the art of sword making. In China, the jade cutting sword is legendary. Excalibur, the Celtic sword could cut through metal and stone.

4The sword is an extension of the arm. Its handling is an exercise of the mind. The fire weapon is an extension of desire, it kills from afar.

5Concept used by Mircea Eliade meaning “something sacred that shows itself”.

The discovery of the fusion of metals is the beginning of a new era to mankind. It is usual to think, somehow in prejudice, that technical discoveries precede their mythological explanation. In reality, the process is more than often the opposite6. Long before devoting their energy to the techniques of smelting, men knew and used metals. The most primitive of our ancestors collected pieces of metal found in nature and worked them as they did with stone7. However, for them that material had a very specific origin full of symbolic meaning. Metals came from Heaven. Literally, men observed the fall of meteorites with awe and fear, later coming to the conclusion that the minerals extracted from those stones fallen from Heaven were of divine origin. But more than the symbolism of the stone in itself the importance lay on the magic contamination of the metals contained in it. Mistaken for lightening, meteorites came from above cutting through the darkness of night and in their fall setting alight the skies and then the forests. These were messages of celestial fire, fit for artisans as a source of raw material and fit for magicians as a source of omens. But this frequent confusion had to be avoided for these where dangerous elements. In fact, these metals collected on the surface of the Earth came from the sky and therefore, participated of a masculine celestial sacrality. The fall of lightening, like the fall of rain, represented the consummation of an hierogamy8 between Heaven and Earth. A cruel, violent relationship that generated metals and that men later imitated out of necessity. On occasion, meteorites fell with such violence that they hurt the womb of the Earth penetrating well beyond the reach of man.

The discovery of the fusion of metals and mining is, according to Eliade, precisely what caused an important symbolic dislocation. Here we aren’t so much interested in following a chronology of technical discovery as simply to note some symbolic consequences that they came to have on different cultures.

The idea of a celestial origin of metals was studied sufficiently at length for us to understand how this phenomenon cast such an impression on human imagination.

From then on the search went into the sacred body of Earth9, to remove the minerals which had already acquired others qualities inside it, in a millennial pregnancy beyond the comprehension of man’s sense of time. That action implies a passage into another symbolism of earthly and feminine outline. An ambivalence appears that requires the introduction of new elements in the universe of the myth.

In the Chinese tradition, Kan-tsiang and his wife Mo-ye were forgers. Having been commissioned with the making of two swords, Kan-tsiang worked relentlessly day and night. However, after three months of effort he was unable to obtain a fusion of the metals. Questioned by his wife on the reasons of his failure, the husband gave nothing but vague replies until one day, at her insistence, he confessed that faced with an identical situation, his master had used a girl to perform the marriage. Upon hearing these words, Mo-ye threw herself into the furnace, enabling the union of the metals. Her husband then made two swords: the female sword named Mo-ye, and the male sword that was named after himself. In another version of this story, Kan-tsiang tells that both his master and the wife had to be consumed so as to join the metals together. One should further note that in Chinese to ‘marry/marriage’ (ping) has also the general meaning of ‘embassy’ and yet a more specific one of ‘interview’, it may therefore be understood as a sacrifice in which the victim has the mission of match-maker between the metals. However, the immolation of Mo-ye could also mean a marriage/gift to the god of the Forge so that he would agree to allow the union of the metals. As we have seen above the marriage of Heaven and Earth through lightening ( the origin of metals) is a violent act and its repetition in the sacred environment of the forge implies for that reason the same violence of a human sacrifice.

According to Marcel Granet10 the Owl, a dangerous animal connected to the Yang element and the fifth day of the fifth month ( when the Yang acquires its utmost power – it is said that male children born on this date will kill their parents when they reach as tall as the height of the house door) was the symbol animal of a royal clan of forgers, masters of the Lightening and the Seasons. In their quality of ministers they were the enemies of Heaven and, therefore, should be controlled.

The 81 brothers had animal bodies and human voices, the heads were of copper and the foreheads of iron. They ate sand. They were the inventors of weapons, of sabres, of spears and of the great . They terrorised and shook the world. They committed massacres. They lacked Virtue.

The working of metals, mining and forging, has been always seen as special and dangerous. Not only did the metal originate from Heaven as it had grown in the womb of Earth, thus participating of a double sacrality. All civilisations have, therefore, regarded forgers as men whose destiny was a special and dangerous task and were also gifted with a special knowledge.

In concrete terms, the forger was someone who, together with the potter and the witchdoctor ( for whom he is sometimes mistaken) had the control of fire. Fire is, among other things, what allows the very transmutation of matter. Normally, the discovery or introduction of new techniques are attributed to a founding king, as with almost all traditional African kingdoms, whose kings are equally forgers.

The forger, as a nomad seeking regions rich in minerals, doesn’t have a clear status in his own culture, inasmuch as he deals with dangerous matters not accessible to all and that inspire a sacred reverence. In a certain way he is a feared and respected outcast. His office his hereditary within a lineage of important and specific powers. African mythology is rich in stories of forgers that become kings in tribes other than their own – a sort of reward or acknowledgement for the introduction and mastering of a new and wondrous technique11.

but also the history of the origins of Chinese civilisation contains similar episodes. Yu the Great, the first emperor of the Xia dynasty, was the Great Orderer of the World. Yu controlled the impetuous flow of waters and was known as the perforator of mountains and as a forger-king that knew the secrets of the forge and of the union of metals. He is thought to be the forger of the Nine Cauldrons of the Xia, that were made with metals coming from the Nine Provinces brought by the Nine Shepherds. These cauldrons were light and easy to carry and inside them liquids boiled without need to use fire. They were instruments of justice and punishments were dispensed. Yu the Great, the first monarch to establish a dynasty, is not only in possession of iniciatic knowledge for the working of metal he is also a just and virtuous user of that knowledge. Still within Chinese mythology we must go further back to the immemorial times of the Five August and Huangdi, the Yellow Emperor, in order to know the origin of the fusion of metals and the making of weapons. Weapons and the forge are attributed to Chiyou, an evil being who died in a battle against the great king – a mythical combat whose ritual representation pervades the whole of Chinese history. Chiyou, whose nature is sometimes divided into 72 (9x8) or 81 (9x9) brothers has a fearsome aspect: an ox like copper head with iron forehead. The fierce battle against Huangdi is filled with mythological elements in which each of the opponents sought to enlist different mythological beings: Chiyou’s legion of demons spread out a mysterious mist in which Huangdi, in order to find his way, had to invent the compass; the monarch defeats his enemy by using a magic trumpet that imitated the roar of the Dragon. Chiyou was killed by the Yin Dragon, the dragon of Rain who, together with Niu-pa, the Goddess of Drought, were on Huangdi’s side. Two hundred years before our era this terrible being was recovered by the first Han emperor who dedicated sacrifices to him12. The multiplication of Chiyou turns him into a sort of brotherhood, which somehow is related to the fundamental role of the forgers guilds in Ancient China, whose magical knowledge was passed by the Taoist tradition13.

The story of Chiyou shows us a civilisation keenly aware of the inherent danger of an unrefrained use of weapons and the art of the forge, namely by those in power. It further points to its malignant origin. This multiple mythological being is a sort of patron of the rebels who threatened, in marginal hordes, the centralised power of the emperors. In the history of China, brotherhoods have often taken a role of opposition to the establishment hollowing the vigour and virtue of dynasties.

The oldest of Chinese mythology – of royal origin – fears the power of forges and weapons to the determent of Virtue (Tao). The legend of Huangdi and Chiyou demonstrates that Virtue wins over the still half beastly strength of weapons and metal. Further ahead we shall see how after being submitted to human measure – in the Zhou dynasty – the sword shall conquer its space in the pantheon of the symbols of power within the mythology of China.

For the time being we may conclude that the knowledge of the art of forging and of metals is a dangerous, demiurgical, office through which matter often acquires the lethal shape of a weapon capable of giving life or death according to its own soul and to the soul of the wen who uses it.

“The sword is the soul of the warrior”, says the Japanese Bushido. Nevertheless, in a broader sense, the sword goes beyond the solitary character of the warrior to become a collective symbol for the exercise of violence, i.e., in its essence the very form of the State.

6It is the case of the invention of the car ( cart) whose usage was merely ritual as a transport of the representation of the solar disc. This may be seen as a point in favor of the theory that the invention of the wheel came from a representation of the Sun. Cf. Eliade, Mircea; Forgers and Alchemists.

7Mircea, Eliade, op.cit. The Eskimo, Aztec, Maya and Inca, to whom forging was unknown used celestial iron which was prized over gold. When Cortez asked from where did they knifes came, the Aztec pointed skywards. References to celestial metals can be found in Summery and China.

8Marriage between heavenly beings. Cf. Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane.

9An American movie of the 50’s , “Treasures of Sierra Madre” by John Houston, an old miner insists in effacing all traces from a mine that has been exhausted, arguing that he must heal the mountain, close the wound he had caused. This is an example of how the idea of a mine has a wound persisted until recently.

10Granet, Marcel; Danses et Légendes de La Chine Ancienne; PUF, 1926

11Two examples are those described by Marcel Griaule among the Dogon of Mali and by Siegfried Nadel among the Nupe of Nigeria.

12Kao-tsu, the first emperor of the Han was of humble origins. It seems he was charismatic and endowed with several divine marks among which 72 black spots on the left thigh. This number is a reference to the brotherhood and its war power. Kao-tsu recovered the cult and the dances of Chiyou.

13Granet, Marcel; Danses et Légendes de La Chine Ancienne; PUF, 1926

Are we tigers or rhinoceros,
thus forced to roam these deserts ?
Mercy on us, the warriors,
day an night without rest.

The first technological gesture of the homo faber was likely the making of a weapon. As a physically weak species, without fangs of any dimension to use in attack or defence, our ancestors had to use from the beginning every spark of intelligence and attention to manufacture war instruments. What better model for that that then very world of beasts, who displayed a range of weapons bestowed by Nature such as horns, beaks, thorns, capable of piercing, slashing and cutting with amazing efficiency and thus ensuring the continuation of the species in the fight for sustenance and survival? If man used, in the first place, the remains of the animals he killed or found it wasn’t long before he started to reproduce in stone and wood the natural weapons of his enemies.

This approach to the world of animals wasn’t without numerous and far reaching symbolic consequences which, for instance, translated into the totemism of warrior brotherhoods who identified with a specific animal. Some examples are famous like that of the bersekir, the bear- men, who terrorised the forests of the North of Europe or that of the secret society of the leopard-men which was said to control vast regions of Africa.

Once again we come across the societies of warriors, dangerous elements in times of peace, which is imperious to control. In fact, the figure of the warrior is a fatalist streak all through history and the imaginary of civilisations. Useful and revered in times of war, this character and his weapons are a threat to the divine-legal power in times of peace. He is a solitary being ( the best example of which is the wandering knight roaming all alone the vast lands of the Occident and the Orient), a nuisance, but an indispensable one. His nature, hardened by the fierceness of battles and the regular confrontation with death is unpredictable and hardly controllable – as is his sexuality. The return of the warriors was normally celebrated with feasts that included a certain promiscuity. Their aim was to appease, through sex, the men excited by the killing and the blood.

Very soon, kings and emperors understood the need of attracting towards them the brotherhoods of warriors, keeping them under their flag as a condition for stability and obedience. Depending on the places and the contingencies of History there were different degrees of proximity between sovereigns and warriors.

Another symbolic distinction between weapons has to do with the characteristics of their functioning. Thus, there are clubbing weapons and cutting weapons. In the first case we have clubs and maces, designed to smash, break, pulp down. In the second case are swords, axes, and knifes designed to cut, divide, perforate. In the symbolic plan this distinction is highly relevant: the former have a content and action that is fundamentally impure and brutal, closer to animalism; the later, closer to humanity, have in their action a dimension of salvation and purification.

This theme is deeply linked to the symbolism of the sword because its action is imbued with a character of regeneration, as in the case of Excalibur in the Celtic legend of King Arthur – the sword that heals and gives life. Cutting time and bringing forth a new moment – an act of regeneration. To illustrate these operations one needs to cut the ties with the past – dark and decadent – and inaugurate a new era. This is what Alexander the Great executes by cutting with his gladium the complex knot of Gordium, becoming the lord of Asia14.

Sword in hand, the sovereign cuts first to reconnect after. His instrument is the founder of a new time and a new memory. The sword is clearly distinct from the clubbing instruments, which are absent from royal symbolism, though used by demi-gods such as Hercules, who wore a mace. Only bound by a strict code of behaviour, such as in European medieval chivalry and the Japanese Bushido are warriors entitled, so to speak, to own and wear a sword.

The use of swords in the armies was extremely limited. Soldiers used bows, spears and crossbows but only higher ranking officers, usually proficient in individual combat, were entitled to use the sword. In China, for instance after the conquering of the Empire by the Mongol infantry the use of the sword became rare indeed, specially because the military system rendered it obsolete15. Going through the17^th century T’ien-kung K’ai-wu treatise on technology by Sung Ying Hsing it becomes clear. Although it contains a chapter on the making of weapons, such as arrows and bows, crossbows and fire weapons the silence is absolute in regard to the sword16. Why should a manual teach how to manufacture an instrument of yet such dangerous qualities ?

Wen and Wu were two great sages and kings. They thoroughly attended to the affairs of State and with zeal promoted morals. Their diligence and virtue became famous both on Heaven and Earth. Therefore, heaven entrusted king Wen with its mandate.

Inside an extraordinary forest outside the city of Qufu, in the Province of Shandong, is the tomb of Confucius. The whole woods are a huge cemetery at least 2500 years old. The disciples who travelled there were supposed to bring from their birthplaces a tree to plant there. Today the visitor may enjoyed the variety of a botanical diversity among which the tombs were laid. Before coming to the place were the Master rests we find, after walking through a paved aisle, two large stone warriors guarding the sacred space. One holds a book against his chest, the other holds a sword.

These two symbols seem to constitute the two foundations of power in China. Curiously, as opposed to other mythologies where the military, warrior, magical character precedes as a foundation17 the establishment of order, in China the book precedes the sword as it appears already tamed by the virtuous action prior to its creation. However indispensable to the exercise of power the sword is, somehow, under the rule of the book.

This becomes evident when looking at the fundamental history of the Zhou dynasty (1122-256 B.C.). The first sovereign, known as king Wen, was a civilising genius, full of virtue and compassion who did not take revenge on his enemies and even gave up part of his dominions in exchange for the end of torture. In his lands harmony reigned, “ peasants yielded to one another in arguments over field boundaries and all yielded to the elders ”. In face of this reign of virtue, the Leaders realised that Wen had the mandate of Heaven18 and the Yin dynasty, headed by a tyrant, was quickly replaced by the Zhou dynasty. Grateful, Wen did not wage war against Cheou-sin, the last of the Yin. The accomplishment of victory fell upon King Wu, Wen’s son. The started a war against Yin, the tyrant and oppressor of the “Hundred Families”. Unquestionable winner, Wu consolidated the power of the dynasty.

Although these exemplify two aspects of the monarchy, it is the ordaining virtue that precedes the martial aspect and, in a certain way, controls it. The heavenly mandate belongs first to Wen and only then to Wu. In fact, the names themselves Wen and Wu – became concepts to describe the following sovereigns : some possessed one of the qualities in a greater measure, others possessed the other. Wen, in a broad translation, means, literate, culture, order, virtue; whereas Wu refers to the martial side of the exercise of power. If, on the one hand, it is understandable that the Book precedes the Sword, on the other it is also clear that the cutting action is paramount for the establishment of a virtuous kingdom. The sword rises to become a royal symbol. It upholds justice and warrants the enforcement of the Book – as illustrated at the grave of the founder of the thought that become State doctrine throughout China’s long history.

17Cf. Georges Dumézil, Le heritage indo-européen à Rome; Gallimard, 1946. The author describes the brutal, fearsome characteristics of the founders of kingdoms such as Romulus who was fed by a female wolf ( the animal of mars the God of War) and had killed his brother, although possessed by such magic and warring energy that he founded the city of Rome. The second king of Rome, Numa, stabilized the city through the creation of political and juridical institutions.

The sexual duality of the sword in Chinese thought simply means that it has a nature of totality. Thence the danger of it becoming a dragon, an animal that unites in itself several different natures and, therefore, represents totality. The fact that the sword is an instrument of life and death is also related to that characteristic – it can cut a well as reunite and keep united.

In that sense there is a close relationship between the sword and alchemy. This is due not just to intimate relationship between forgers and alchemists but above all because has we’ve seen the sword is a master of Time. One of its qualities is to cut with the Time past and enforce the new Time, pushing History forth towards its end in much the same way as the alchemist attempts to control historicity, namely by seeking immortality.

The Chinese speak about a certain sword that “cuts through jade and mist”: the two poles of an instrument capable of destroying the hardest of materials but also able to divide the softest of things, known to confound warriors. Only a clear mind and a virtuous spirit can understand the handling of a sword and of its symbols. The others, who do not wish to follow Virtue (Tao), should but contemplate it.