Chinese Sword Culture

By staff reporter HUO JIANYING

The sword of Gou Jian, king of Yue – a state treasure.	Wudang swordplay.	Shaolin swordplay.

The sword first appeared in China during the early age of cold weaponry, but its use in close-quarters combat was relatively short. By the early third century it had departed the battlefield and become a main artistic motif. Later still, it was an appurtenance denoting social standing.

Star of Stage

Swordplay combines martial and acrobatic skills. After becoming obsolete on the battlefield, the ethos of the sword, so-called monarch of all weapons, changed from that of dispatcher of enemies and preserver of its owner’s life to object of aesthetic appreciation. The sword became, and remained, a major aspect of folk theater and dance sequences.

The two broad Tang Dynasty dance genres were the graceful, flowing “civilian dance” and spirited “martial dance.” Choreographically conceived swordplay included the spectacularly swirling “Sword Huntuo” dance of the Western Regions and the bold, sensuous “Xihe Sword” folk dances of Northwestern China.

The supreme Tang Dynasty swordplay champion was Madame Gongsun. Clad in full martial costume, she mesmerized audiences with her deft wielding of the sword and dazzling dance artistry. Madame Gongsun’s admirers included respected scholars and men of letters, and the great Tang poet Du Fu wrote a poem dedicated to her virtuosity.

In addition to heightening the affect of dramatized martial spectacles, swordplay was often central to the plots of plays and operas, one example being the Peking Opera The Conqueror Bids Farewell to His Favorite Concubine. It tells of Xiang Yu, a main contender for the throne after the death of the Qin emperor. After being defeated and driven out of his native State of Chu, Xiang Yu charges his concubine Yu Ji with joining him in drowning his sorrows in liquor, but devotion to her lord drives Yu Ji to enact a strategy of ultimate self-sacrifice. She performs a sword dance (choreographed by the great Peking Opera master Mei Lanfang) that ends in Yu Ji’s slaying herself. Yu Ji thus forcing Xiang Yu to free himself from the final fetter that hinders him from an all-out attempt to recover his kingdom.

Yu Ji’s sword dance is in the graceful, flowing style of taiji swordplay: the iron fist in a velvet glove. It movingly reflects the heroine’s reluctance to part with her lover and her steely determination to face death fearlessly. This sequence is the climax of the opera and a brilliant example of dramatic swordplay.

Calligraphic Swordplay

Martial artists and calligraphers were agreed that calligraphy and swordplay had similar origins: in the eyes of an accomplished artist, skilled swordplay resembled dancing calligraphy and was a source of inspiration, while to a martial arts master, calligraphy was swordplay on paper.

It was Meng Tian, a respected Qin Dynasty (221-206 B.C.) general, that first made a cone-shaped brush head out of rabbit hair and inserted it into a bamboo shaft, thus inventing the first calligraphy and painting brush. Two thousand years later, his manufacturing technique has yet to be bettered.

Zhang Xu, a famous calligrapher of the Tang Dynasty (618-907) particularly excelled at the caoshu (cursive) style of calligraphy. Cursive script differs from other styles of calligraphy in appearing deceptively simple when it is actually very difficult to execute. It calls for artistry similar to that required for abstract painting, in the sense of mastery of classic art’s being a prerequisite to the ability to create abstract works. Zhang Xu’s cursive script, based on his kaishu or regular script, was unconventionally and distinctly bold. His calligraphic artistry resulted in his epithet as “sage of cursive script.”

Zhang Xu and expert swordplay dancer Madame Gongsun were contemporaries. The attitudes struck by Madame Gongsun in her dance sequences of bold leaps, graceful swoops and deadly accurate lunges were, in Zhang Xu’s eyes, unusually defined outlines of Chinese characters. He drew inspiration from Madame Gongsun’s swordplay and incorporated everything he found thrilling about her performances into his distinctive style of calligraphy, which later contributed to China’s venerable canon.

Another famous swordplay exponent was Tang Dynasty general Pei Min. Upon his inviting famous Tang Dynasty painter Wu Daozi to paint a mural on temple wall to exorcise evil spirits and honor his deceased mother, the artist replied, “I would consider it an honor, but have not painted for a while. Could you inspire me with a swordplay dance sequence?” Pei Min thereupon performed for him, and Wu Daozi referred to the work he subsequently created, inspired by Pei Min’s balletic skills as, “ …the most satisfactory work of my life.”

It was Emperor Wenzong of the Tang Dynasty (reigned 826-841) that issued an imperial edict naming Zhang Xu’s calligraphy, Pei Min’s swordplay and Li Bai’s poetry as the “three wonders of the Great Tang Empire.”

Social Significance

Chinese ancients believed the sword to be the only weapon that was not ill-omened. Many dynasties promulgated specific sword-bearing laws, generally stipulating that common laboring people were disallowed from sword ownership, it being the privilege of the wealthy and those in the official ranks of power and influence. The sword was the weapon of scholars and warriors alike. Many wore it as a fashion accessory and indication of high social status. All but the most favored of officials were prohibited from wearing a sword when summoned to the imperial court.

The emperor was the supreme ruler of China’s feudal society, at whose whim a man could live or die. As the emperor’s sword was regarded as having similar power, its bearer (seldom the emperor himself) was invested with discretionary powers as to its use. Consequently, no matter how high an accused official’s rank might be, the bearer of the emperor’s sword had the power to execute him or not, as he deemed fit.

The weapon also had applications within Taoist spells. A peach wood sword was believed to ward off demons and evil spirits, and was often hung on a wall to protect, as well as ornament, a household.

It having been observed that ancient Chinese men of letters felt a particular affinity with the sword, the great German poet Heinrich Heine is quoted as having once said, “After I die, put a sword, not a pen, into my coffin.” It would seem, therefore, that sword lovers are by no means confined to the ranks of Chinese scholars.