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| The actor Amachi Shigeru receiving instruction in Muso Jikiden Eishin Ryu Yamauchi-ha |
Virtually any field of human endeavour and achievement is
influenced by more than just the need for practicality. It is this aspect, the
human and cultural dimension that, as much as anything else, has shaped and
distinguished the different styles of classical martial arts. The wants and
needs of societies as well as individuals leave their marks on each style, and
these may be quite different how we imagine them.
It is axiomatic in the world of Japanese martial arts that ‘if
the kokoro (mind) is not correct, the sword will not be correct’. While kokoro
(and mind, for that matter) is a term that is open to many interpetations, let
us take it , in this case, as being ‘attitude’ or ‘way of thinking’. This, of
course, begs the question, What is the correct attitude?
The answer may not be as simple as it seems, and the
dimensions that it touches may be the reason that, on and off, so much of the
discourse on martial arts has been flavoured with large helpings of philosophy,
mysticism and spirituality. While in some ryu-ha this tends towards the
religious (especially in those schools which maintain a close connection with
particular shrines and/or deities); in others, it is more philosphically or
morally inclined. This connection seems to date from early in the development
in swordsmanship, although given the prominence of religion in medieval
societies, this is not surprising.
In modern budo, the aspect of moral/spiritual training has continued,
with disciplines such as kendo and kyudo stating their aim as being a honing of
the human spirit by using martially flavoured practice as a tool. (It must be
admitted that this may not be readily apparent to the casual observer).
It is rare, however, to see these influences addressed
explicitly and lucidly by advanced practitioners of a pre-modern style in any
more than a cursory way, in English, at least, which is why it can be so
interesting when they do appear.
One such work is ‘Muso-Jikiden Eishin Ryu. The Iai Forms and
Oral Traditions of the Yamauchi Branch’ by Yamakoshi Masaki, Tsukimoto Kazutake
and translated by Steven Trenson. Although I have no connection with this
style, I found it shed some valuable light on the aims and functions of this
ryu-ha, recognizing its place in a society that had moved on from the age of
war but still found value in the old practices.
Muso-Jikiden Eishin Ryu – what’s it all about?
What is interesting about this ryu-ha is that it was an
elite practice, used by members of the Yamauchi Family (the daimyo of Tosa, in
Shikoku – also famous as the birthplace of Sakamoto Ryoma, who did not practice
this style) and higher ranking members of the administration. It was deeply
Neo-Confucian in nature, and represented this philosophy in its theory of
practice. Interestingly, it was well aware of the need for the discipline to
provide more than skill at arms, especially for members of a class whose duties were largely
bureaucratic rather than military. If anything, it appeared to look down on
such a simplistic view of sworsmanship. Indeed, compared with the ‘way’ of
governing, or of service to one’s lord, the ‘way’ of swordsmanship, and of any
craft or skill, was generally regarded as being of lesser value. The ability to
govern a domain or command an army were of far more importance than the ability
to wield a sword. However, they were not entirely unconnected.
The bushi of the Edo period were the heads of society, and
they took their role seriously. For them, the idea of a virtuous government and
leading by example were important: learning necessarily included the
cultivation of moral virtue. Iaijutsu embodied this attitude, and it also
provided a pedagogic framework.
While for normal folk, moral virtue meant following rules –
rules that supposedly embodied the Principle of the Universe (or the Dao), for
the higher ranks there was more to it. The practice of iaijutsu ‘provided the
attitude and method of how to cultivate, by themselves, the necessary virtues
to fulfil their duties.’ Following the Neo-Confucian teaching of kakubutsu-chichi, which can be rather
ponderously translated as the expansion
of knowledge of the inherent principles of phenomena attaining to the principle
of the universe. In other words, in order to understand this principle, you
have to know as much as you can about, well, just about everything. In terms of
iaijutsu, this meant not only questioning the principles inherent in the forms,
but also reflection on the purposes of practice itself.
Beyond this, was the method of contemplation, which was,
indeed, the primary method of cultivation in iaijutsu. Shuitsu-muteki, not wandering off, referred to an awareness
involving all the senses and faculties rather than a single-minded attention,
in the same way that you would notice who had come into a room while you were
watching television. The purpose of this was to gradually calm the mind and
allow one’s true, which is to say good, benevolent, nature to come to the fore.
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| Kashima Shinto Ryu iai |
Certain practices, (such as tameshigiri) are not included in
the school because they work against this process. By promoting a sense of
satisfaction in one’s cutting performance, one is increasing the passions that
surround your true nature, thus making it that much more difficult to allow it
to surface. The nature of test cutting itself was also though to be deleterious
to character building, and could lead to a cold, cruel character. Indeed, a
danger was seen in the development of technical skills if they were not
accompanied by a corresponding moral and intellectual growth.
Of course, the devil is in the details, but even from this
cursory view, this gives us some insight into how the martial arts might have
been viewed by their practitioners during the Edo period – perhaps in a very
different way from how we imagine tham to have been. The authors note that the aim of iaijutsu was
to help a practitioner understand the meaning of his or her own life and not to
retreat from responsibilities, thus embodying the dictum ‘First know, then act.’
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