Bushido, the Soul of Japan, by Inazo Nitobe, [1905], at sacred-texts.com
CHAPTER XIII
THE SWORD, THE SOUL OF THE SAMURAI
BUSHIDO made the sword its emblem of power and prowess. When Mahomet
proclaimed that "the sword is the key of Heaven and of Hell," he only
echoed a Japanese sentiment. Very early the samurai boy learned to wield
it. It was a momentous occasion for him when at the age of five he was
apparelled in the paraphernalia of samurai costume, placed upon a go-board 1
and initiated into the rights of the military profession, by having
thrust into his girdle a real sword instead of the toy dirk with which
he had been playing. After this first ceremony
of adoptio per arma, he was no more to be seen outside his
father's gates without this badge of his status, even though it was
usually substituted for everyday wear by a gilded wooden dirk. Not many
years pass before he wears constantly the genuine steel, though blunt,
and then the sham arms are thrown aside and with enjoyment keener than
his newly acquired blades, he marches out to try their edge on wood and
stone. When he reaches man's estate, at the age of fifteen, being given
independence of action, he can now pride himself upon the possession of
arms sharp enough for any work. The very possession of the dangerous
instrument imparts to him a feeling and an air of self-respect and,
responsibility. "He beareth not the sword in vain." What he carries in
his belt is a symbol of what he carries in his mind and heart,--loyalty
and honour. The two swords, the longer and the shorter,--called
respectively daito and shoto or katana and wakizashi,--never leave his side. When at home, they grace the most conspicuous
place in the study or parlour; by night they guard his pillow within
easy reach of his hand. Constant companions, they are beloved, and
proper names of endearment given them. Being venerated, they are
well-nigh worshipped. The Father of History has recorded as a curious
piece of information that the Scythians sacrificed to an iron scimitar.
Many a temple and many a family in Japan hoards a sword as an object of
adoration. Even the commonest dirk has due respect paid to it. Any
insult to it is tantamount to personal affront. Woe to him who
carelessly steps over a weapon lying on the floor!
So precious an object cannot long escape the notice and the skill of
artists nor the vanity of its owner, especially in times of peace, when
it is worn with no more use than a crosier by a bishop or a sceptre by a
king. Sharkskin and finest silk for hilt, silver and gold for guard,
lacquer of varied hues for scabbard, robbed the deadliest weapon of half
its terror; but these appurtenances are playthings compared with the
blade itself.
The swordsmith was not a mere artisan but an inspired artist and his
workshop a sanctuary. Daily he commenced his craft with prayer and
purification, or, as the phrase was, "he committed his soul and spirit
into the forging and tempering of the steel." Every swing of the sledge,
every plunge into water, every friction on the grindstone, was a
religious act of no slight import. Was it the spirit of the master or of
his tutelary god that cast a formidable spell over our sword? Perfect
as a work of art, setting at defiance its Toledo and Damascus rivals,
there was more than art could impart. Its cold blade, collecting on its
surface the moment it is drawn the vapour of the atmosphere; its
immaculate texture, flashing light of bluish hue; its matchless edge,
upon which histories and possibilities hang; the curve of its back,
uniting exquisite grace with utmost strength;--all these thrill us with
mixed feelings of power and beauty, of awe and terror. Harmless were its
mission, if it only remained a thing of beauty and joy! But, ever
within
reach of the hand, it presented no small temptation for abuse. Too
often did the blade flash forth from its peaceful sheath. The abuse
sometimes went so far as to try the acquired steel on some harmless
creature's neck.
The question that concerns us most is, however,--Did Bushido justify
the promiscuous use of the weapon? The answer is unequivocally, no! As
it laid great stress on its proper use, so did it denounce and abhor its
misuse. A dastard or a braggart was he who brandished his weapon on
undeserved occasions. A self-possessed man knows the right time to use
it, and such times come but rarely. Let us listen to the late Count
Katsu, who passed through one of the most turbulent times of our
history, when assassinations, suicides, and other sanguinary practices
were the order of the day. Endowed as he once was with almost
dictatorial powers, chosen repeatedly as an object of assassination, he
never tarnished his sword with blood. In relating some of his
reminiscences to a friend
he says, in a quaint, plebeian way peculiar to him: "I have a great
dislike for killing people and so I haven't killed one single man. I
have released those whose heads should have been chopped off. A friend
said to me one day, 'You don't kill enough. Don't you eat pepper and
egg-plants?' Well, some people are no better! But you see that fellow
was slain himself. My escape may be due to my dislike of killing. I had
the hilt of my sword so tightly fastened to the scabbard that it was
hard to draw the blade. I made up my mind that though they cut me, I
would not cut. Yes, yes! some people are truly like fleas and mosquitoes
and they bite--but what does their biting amount to? It itches a
little, that's all; it won't endanger life." These are the words of one
whose Bushido training was tried in the fiery furnace of adversity and
triumph. The popular apothegm--"To be beaten is to conquer," meaning
true conquest consists in not opposing a riotous foe; and "The best won
victory is that obtained without shedding of blood," and others of
similar
import--will show that after all the ultimate ideal of knighthood was peace.
It was a great pity that this high ideal was left exclusively to
priests and moralists to preach, while the samurai went on practising
and extolling martial traits. In this they went so far as to tinge the
ideals of womanhood with Amazonian character. Here we may profitably
devote a few paragraphs to the subject of the training and position of
woman.
Footnotes
131:1 The game of go
is sometimes called Japanese checkers, but is much more intricate than
the English game. The go-board contains 361 squares and is supposed to
represent a battle-field--the object of the game being to occupy as much
space as possible.
