Yari - The Long and the Short of It

The spear is a weapon that has been used in some form in virtually every corner of the earth, and must be, after the club and the rock, one of the most basic weapons devised by mankind. Japan is no exception, and has a long tradition of the use of various pole arms, including spears, dating to way back before the 'samurai' era. However, as far as samurai are concerned, the spear was not even the principal pole arm until the 15th or 16th century. For some reason, it was the naginata that assumed that role, while the spear languished until the time of the Namboku-cho (1334-1392) when it gradually gained popularity. This popularity increased during the early Sengoku period, until, by the time of the famous warlords of the mid to late 16th century, it had assumed the position of one of the main weapons on the battlefield. This was partially due to logistical considerations, and indeed, the growing size of armies meant that it provided a cheap and easy to use armament for levies and other
irregular troops.

Though individuals became famous for their use of the spear, on the battlefield, their particular forte was in tactical deployment. Walter Dening, in his The Life of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, tells the story of how Hideyoshi got caught up in an argument to see whether long or short spears were superior. Oda Nobunaga's spear instructor favored short spears (short in this case means up to 8ft long) whereas Hideyoshi favored the longer type.

A trial was arranged: both men would train a group of fifty men in the use of their chosen length of spear,and after three days, the two groups would compete against each other. To cut a long story
short, while the spear instructor taught his men the techniques to oppose the longer weapons, Hideyoshi told his men they had the advantage anyway, so they could attack any way they liked, and wined and dined them. He also divided them into three units so they could make forward and flank attacks. On the day of the contest, Hideyoshi's men made mincemeat of his opponents.

Although this is probably an apocryphal tale, it does indicate the tactical value of the spear on the battlefield. That is not to deny that a shorter spear offers definite advantages to the individual warrior, but in battles employing formations of troops, longer spears offered a decided advantage. In fact, Nobunaga employed longer than average spears in his formations, and even on an individual level,
some warriors made use of the longer spears. Maeda Toshiie, for example, used one that was reportedly 6m in length.

The differences on such weapons also lead to certain specializations in the way they were used. For the ashigaru, who made up the bulk of the armies in the Sengoku period, spear usage was comparatively limited. Among the most common techniques was a downward strike aimed at knocking the opponent's spear downwards. This was particularly useful in tight formations, and contemporary writing suggests that this was seen as preferable to thrusting.

In fact, despite it's efficiency as a thrusting weapon, on the battlefield even the shorter spears were, as often as not, probably used to knock down an opponent and then despatch him. The triangular sectioned blade of the su yari (straight spear) was particularly effective for this, and this may also explain the popularity of the tanged spear head over the socketed type – the tang running deep inside the shaft gives greater durability as well as weighting the head, making it more effective for sweeping and striking movements.

Practice with long weapons quickly brings an appreciation of the difference in their range and speed compared with the sword. Facing someone with a spear (if they are using it well) allows one to realize the advantage it has – it is said that the spear gives its user a 3x advantage. When you see the speed with which a spear can be extended and retracted, how quickly the blade can shoot out at different targets, you appreciate how difficult it would be to face one in earnest.

With the end of the Sengoku Period, the call for spear use declined. Nevertheless, the Bakumatsu period saw some notable use of the spear:



Sakamoto Ryoma's companion, Miyoshi Shinzo, wielded a spear in the famous fight at the Teradaya, as, indeed did their attackers. Ryoma described the events as follows:

  We had come up from the bath and were on the point of going to bed, when we thought we heard something strange; it sounded like the footfalls of someone sneaking around below us (we were on the second floor). Then, in the same way, we heard the clattering of six-foot staves. Just at that time [the woman he would marry], with no thought of her own safety, came running up to us and warned, ‘Look out! The enemy have invaded unexpectedly, and men with spears are coming up the stairs!’ At that, I jumped up, grabbed my hakama and the two swords, along with a six-shooter pistol … and crouched down towards the rear of the room. Miyoshi Shinzo… put on his two swords, and grabbed a spear; and then he too crouched down.
“There were already 20 men lined up with spears; they also had two burglar lanterns, and to top it off there were fellows carrying six-foot staves everywhere…

“By the time this one spear-man was half way up the stairs and coming in my direction. He was on my left. I figured that if there was a spear on my left it could strike me from the side, and so I shifted my position to face to the left. Then I cocked my pistol, and threatened all ten of the spearmen, from right to left. They ran away. Meanwhile, others of the enemy were throwing spears, and also charcoal braziers, and fighting in all sorts of ways. We, for our part, were ducking spears, and you can imagine that it was really a noisy war inside that house. We also hit one man, but I don’t know whether we killed him or not."

As this account suggests, although they were not necessarily wielded with any great skill, spears were still common during this period. Common perhaps, but still unusual enough that expert spearman were far less common than swordsmen. Many schools of martial arts taught the spear along with the sword, but it seems that few had the time or inclination to master this weapon. Among those who did were Yamada Sanosuke of the Shinsengumi, Takahashi Deishu, the shogun's personal spear instructor and brother-in-law of Yamaoka Tesshu, Sagawa Kanbei, one of the leaders of the Aizu forces who fought a brave but losing battle against the Imperial forces under Saigo Takamori, and General Yamagata Aritomo were all noted for their use, or (in the latter case) training, in the spear.

In this period, the spear was no longer a formation weapon, but the weapon of the individual. On the battlefield, the rifle and bayonet had taken its place, but it is clear that the men who wielded it with skill still commanded respect

Iai – more than drawing the sword

From a scroll of the Sekiguchi Shinshin ryu (1810), showing iaijutsu
practiced on a very interesting looking striking dummy. (From this website.)
   

The art of iai seems to be one of the most understood of the Japanese martial arts. It dates from at least the 16^th century, and probably before that, and yet it falls into that uncomfortable ground of not being quite one thing or another. Is it for use in combat, or is it primarily a tool for self-discipline?

Of course, the comparatively modern discipline of iaido has as one of its stated aims the refinement of the character of the practitioner, but there is some contention about the whole discipline, based largely on the fact that the principle form of practice involves starting in a kneeling position known as seiza. Given the importance of this position in most forms of iai, it has always been something of a mystery as to how it developed.

There have been all kinds of explanations, some of them quite dubious, as to the origins of iai. For example, it has been explained as a battlefield art. It has also been claimed that there was no time that samurai would have the opportunity to draw their long swords from the waist when seated on tatami, it is essentially of no practical use.

When we think of samurai not wearing longswords indoors,
this is the kind of situation  (from Kawagoe City Museum)
that comes to mind. However, this was not always the case (see pictures below).

Although iaido (and some more traditional styles as well) are quite far removed from their ostensible purpose, i.e. drawing the sword, cutting down an opponent and returning the sword to its sheath, the direction in which it has developed – as a tool for polishing the self ­– does, in fact, owe something to elements that were an important part of the practice from the start.

Along with the physical practice of wielding the sword, it has a mental component that is vital – one might even say it is the basis of iai.

The ability to influence the opponent, to control him, before coming to blows, is at its heart, as earlier practitioners were keen to point out:

The founder of the Suio ryu, Mima Yoichizaemon Kagenobu wrote in the early 1600s:

The essence of our tradition, and the attainment of an unassailable position, comes from cutting down our opponents while the sword is still in the scabbard, stifling our opponent’s actions and achieving victory through not drawing the sword.

Similarly, Matsura Seizan, master of the Shingyoto ryu echoed these ideas some 200 years later:

(Iai) is not drawing the sword. When you match i (being or presence) with an opponent (ai comes from the word au, which means the spirit of opposition)… it is called projecting the spirit to give victory… the potential of drawing the sword and cutting down the opponent is present while the sword is still sheathed.

This aspect does exist in all bugei, but iai offers a particularly concentrated form of the practice. Starting in seiza highlights it even further. It becomes far more than drawing the sword.

However, I would not totally rule out the practical nature of iai from seiza. Watching the NHK TV drama Yae no Sakura recently, I was struck by just how threatening and dangerous things could be when men wearing swords meet in the small rooms of the inns and lodging houses frequented by the samurai in the Bakumatsu period (1860s). It is easy to see how skill in iai, both in the sense of drawing the sword as well as being able to control your opponent, would be very useful.

Being able to draw the sword from seiza, perhaps the most difficult and disadvantageous position from which iai is practiced, must have conferred a degree of confidence that carried over into other situations, not to mention the technical skills it helped to develop. After having practiced in this position, almost any other position, especially standing, is much easier.

It is a TV show, but this is the range at which iai might be used.

Kyoto was a rough city in those days ­– there were a number of highly visible assassinations as well as many of less well-known people. Secret political meetings were held in small rooms (with tatami, and swords) and the way you held or wore your sword was a matter of personal preference rather than agreed decorum. When violence erupted, it could be sudden and bloody.

This picture, taken in 1863, shows the guard
assigned to the Dutch delegation in Nagasaki.
Note the mix of modern and older weapons, and
for the sticklers for historical accuracy, note that
the centre figure is seated on tatami, in seiza,
with his sword thrust through his sash.

Perhaps it is a throwback to this era when, in the early 20^th century, iai was promoted strongly by a number of well-known practitioners whose teachers had personal experience of those troubled times. Although the mood of the times had changed, it doesn’t require any stretch of the imagination that an art that had proved useful was passed on into more peaceful times.  

Ryozen Historical Museum - Ryoma and the Shinsengumi

Ishi-chan, the museum mascot.
What have things come to!?

At last I got round to visiting the Ryozen Museum.

I had put it off for a long time as I had heard that a lot of the information about the exhibits was in Japanese and I'd always felt it was a bit pricey for what I was likely to get out of it.

Now that my Japanese is better and my background knowledge of the period has also improved, I felt ready to brave it.

The museum is on the far eastern edge of Kyoto, tucked behind the scenic Higashiyama tourist trail, up a fairly steep slope. It's not difficult to find, but you aren't likely to pass that way by chance, unless you have a thing for graveyards and instinctively head away from the crowd.

It was an interesting visit, but there are a few caveats for anyone interested in going themselves. Firstly, the museum is dedicated to the Bakumatsu Period, which is comparatively little known amongst non-Japanese, even among those with an interest in Japanese history - it features a large cast of characters, some of whom are quite famous (while others, equally important, are not) who were involved in a complex series of events that developed and came to fruition in a remarkably short period of time.

Not surprisingly, most of the sources are in Japanese, but even those in English (some of which are excellent) can be confusing, reflecting the chaotic nature of the period itself. The museum concentrates on several of the big names and big incidents (the Ikedaya, the Shinsengumi, the death of Sakamoto Ryoma), but it has lots else besides, including artifacts belonging to or associated with some people I had never heard of.

This would not be problematic if there were explanations in English, but unfortunately, this is not the case. Not that I'm complaining - one shouldn't expect there to be, but visitors beware. As in most museums, the items on display have the title in English, but the explanatory text is only in Japanese. What is a pity, however, is that there is no catalogue. I would have been happy to buy one and work my way through the entriesat my leisure - in real time, it required a bit more time  and patience on the part of my companions than they were willing to give, so rather than bore them stupid as I peered at the explanations, making notes and sketches, I resolved to come back on my own next time.

The items on display were quite mixed, including swords, armour, banners, letters, paintings and photographs - enough physical memorabilia to be interesting to those who would have trouble reading Japanese, but perhaps not so interesting if you really didn't have a clue who the Kondo Isami or Sakamoto Ryoma were. However, I was glad of the chance to see them.

Kondo's armour: http://www.ryozen-museum.or.jp/

Kondo Isami's practice bokuto (wooden sword) and keikogi (practice jacket) with the embroidered skull on the back, were interesting to see - the bokuto itself was fairly standard in size, although the wood looked quite dense, but the tsuba was unusual in its thckness, this must have altered the balance quite a bit, and may have been a means of increasing the weight of the whole thing, or a matter of balance. There was also one of the heavy bokuto the Tennen Rishin Ryu (practiced by Kondo and Hijikata) sometimes use, as a hands-on exhibit which the public are allowed to touch and feel the weight of (it was fixed so it couldn't be swung, so it wasn't really possible to get a proper feel for what it would be like to wield it) - it felt extremely heavy. Also on display were Kondo's mail armour jacket and Hijikata Toshizo's sword. This was interesting - despite the generally received opinion that shorter swords were handier when it came to action (as expressed by Ryoma, among others) it was fairly long, and broad in the blade, with a long tsuka (hilt). The sword he favored later (by Izumi no kami Kanesada) is in the Hijikata Museum in Saitama (and is, indeed, shorter) but this one is similar in length to one Kondo mentioned in a letter in which he wrote about Hijikata's swords {this sword is 2 shaku, 6 sun, 9 bu (81.5cm): the one mentioned in the letter was 2 shaku, 8 sun (84.8)}. Also on display were the swords of Katsura Hayonosuke, one of which was used to kill Ryoma (and which I wrote about in a previous post).

This shows the two dioramas - from the museum
pamphlet.

Another interesting part was the model corner - there were two scale models - one showed the attack on the Ikedaya, and the other Ryoma's death. They were both very nice models (complete with figures) and made it much easier to envisage these two incidents as they might have been. There was also a '3d' film explaining the death of Ryoma... it was really a narrated walkthrough of the model, but I didn't have time for that.

It seems that the exhibits change from time to time, but I suspect the more interesting and well-known ones remain fairly constant. Overall, recommended for history buffs, but if you're not so familiar with the period, you might find better places to spend your time.

Information Rich

Advertising for the Ikeda-ya on Sanjo Street

Japan, and particularly Kyoto, it seems, is an extremely information rich environment: walking through the streets, on odd corners, outside temples or next to bridges, you can often see information boards or stone markers to inform passers-by of the historical importance of each location, as well as a huge number and variety of notices everywhere concerned with more immediate details of everyday life.

For non-Japanese, however, the difficulties of accessing this information (which means reading Japanese), makes the experience quite different - there is so little you can actually understand, and much of that is without a familiar context , even if you have some knowledge of the history, that many give up even trying. It's enough to discourage even a well-developed sense of curiosity.

But over the years since I came here, the accessibility of information, both in Japanese and English, has improved enormously. This is partly due to the advance of technology, and the proliferation of on-line sources, but also to the increasing presence of information at street level.

You can just see the sword cuts in the dark area

Recently, I have been involved in some research that has made me look more closely at the city itself. I have been surprised by the richness of information available to those with a little persistence, and also by how much interesting history is attached to places I have passed on an almost daily basis with, totally unaware.

One such that particularly piqued my interest are the sword cuts on one of the bronze finials of Sanjo Bridge.

The finials themselves (giboshi) are, all save one, the originals from when Hideyoshi had the bridge built in 1590, as indeed are some of the stone pillars (on the south side) on which the bridge stands. Another one of these pillars is now outside Starbucks at the northwest end of the bridge. Civil engineering has never been a particular interest of mine but, like almost any subject, the more you look into it, the more interesting it becomes.

Of course, what I was really interested in were those sword cuts. They date, apparently, from the famous Ikedaya incident which occurred just along the street in 1864. I used to work in the building just next to the site of the incident, which was, in those days, marked by a small stone pillar in front of a pachinko parlor. This was in the days when the British Council and Japan Research Foundation libraries, and one or two bookshops, together with the occasional article in Kyoto Visitors Guide constituted the bulk of my research resources, and I was pretty happy to find out that I was working right next to the Ikedaya, site of one of the most famous engagements of the Bakumatsu period.

For those of you unfamiliar with it, this was when the Shinsengumi, a para-military force supporting the ailing government, mounted a surprise attack on a group of pro-Imperial plotters, many from the Choshu Domain, who were meeting at the inn. The battle itself lasted for a couple of hours, and eventually involved some 60 or so people. At first, however, the Shinsengumi members were outnumbered - 9 of them, under their leader Kondo Isami, attacked the plotters, who numbered about 30. Later reinforcements equalled the numbers. Largely confined to the Ikedaya inn itself, the fighting spilled onto the streets as the plotters tried to escape. Some, it seems, made it as far as Sanjo Bridge, hence the scars on the bridge. It was a hard fought battle, but the Shinsengumi lost only 3 men (2 of whom died of their wounds), compared to 8 on the other side, and more than 20 taken prisoner.


For anyone who wants to have a look for themselves, the sword marks are on the second post from the west, on the south side.

And the Ikeda-ya? Now it is an izakaya, with the front made up in period style. A notice-board in front gives an account of the affair, and you can often see interested groups of tourists stopping outside to read. It is, of course, in Japanese.