As a special birthday present to myself, I decided to enroll in a weekend taijiquan “intensive” led by Scott Rodell of the Great River Taoist Center in Washington D.C. Bede Bidlack, director of the Still Mountain T’ai Chi Center in Ardmore, PA and one of Rodell’s [...]]]> Reprinted from “The Heart of the Mountain”
By Marc Andonian, Ph.D.

As a special birthday present to myself, I decided to enroll in a weekend taijiquan “intensive” led by Scott Rodell of the Great River Taoist Center in Washington D.C. Bede Bidlack, director of the Still Mountain T’ai Chi Center in Ardmore, PA and one of Rodell’s students, arranged the twelve-hour weekend workshop held at the Max Family Training Center in Ardmore, PA on March 1-3.

A beginning student at Still Mountain T’ai Chi Center, I hoped to reinforce the learnings from my ten week introduction to Michuan Taijiquan — the “hidden teaching” of the Yang Family Taijiquan form developed by Yang Luchan. During the weekend, twelve students — half of whom came up from the Capital Beltway — were treated to history, instruction, demonstrations, and form practice led by Scott M. Rodell and assisted by Bede Bidlack. With the rest of our students, I eagerly engaged in our practice – and was called on for one of the first demonstrations. “Great,” I thought, “perhaps I have actually begun to get the hang of this stuff.”

Scott began to talk about the importance of alignment – feet parallel, knees over the toes, coccyx down, back straight, head up as if suspended from the ceiling – and how even the slightest misalignment invalidates your best efforts. I assumed my best stance for the demonstration. Scott placed two fingers on the crest of my hip and pushed with about two ounces of pressure — I toppled over like a house of cards! Okay, so I have a few things to learn from Mr. Rodell.

Once the flush of my embarrassment passed, Mr. Rodell asked me to reassume my best position and said: “Now let’s fix you up.” He gave a little adjustment to one foot, then nudged each knee outward by a half-inch. With a bear hug from the back, he guided me to an appropriate posture. Feeling a bit like a Gumby toy, each minor adjustment made me feel heavier in the feet, like I was being nailed or cemented into the ground. Mr. Rodell then leaned his full weight against my body, and I did not move. All of the energy, the force of his body, flowed down through my feet and into the ground. Simply amazing! There was more to this internal martial art than met the eye.

Parallels to life situations abounded, and it became clear that taiji was not just a series of graceful movements and exercises, but an internal martial art to be learned and practiced as a lifelong discipline. It is also became clear that this is learned best from a genuine teacher, or “Laoshir” (literally “old teacher”), who guides and develops students or disciples. As my respect and appreciation grew, Mr. Rodell became Rodell Laoshir and I was content to be his student for the weekend.

Over the next few days, we continued our journey of learning the importance of mastering the fundamentals and building pieces of the form, one move at a time. Rodell Laoshir presented each move of the form with basic martial applications to help us link form with function. Between workshop sessions, we broke bread together at several local restaurants. We were joined for dinner by former students of Rodell Laoshir’s and got to know one another as members of a growing taijiquan community. After dinner on Saturday night, a number of the students and friends gathered at the Still Mountain T’ai Chi Center where we listened to interesting stories of Rodell Laoshir’s travels and teaching in Estonia and Russia.

As the weekend came to a close, I found myself uniquely energized – the opposite of the exhaustion I had anticipated. I look forward to continuing my studies with my own teacher, Bidlack Laoshì at Still Mountain Tai Chi Center and Max Family Training Center, and for the continued opportunity to study with my grand teacher, Rodell Laoshì at Great River Taoist Center.

To each, I say Xiexie Laoshir (Thank You, Teacher) for the wonderful birthday present!

American Yangjia Michuan Taijiquan Association Vol. 14 # 2

The last three years have seen a tremendous growth in Chinese swordsmanship. In this short time, the art moved literally from the precipice of extinction to having a worldwide following. One spark for this expansion was a pivotal work, Chinese Swordsmanship – the Yang Family Taiji Jian [...]]]>  

American Yangjia Michuan Taijiquan Association Vol. 14 # 2

The last three years have seen a tremendous growth in Chinese swordsmanship. In this short time, the art moved literally from the precipice of extinction to having a worldwide following. One spark for this expansion was a pivotal work, Chinese Swordsmanship – the Yang Family Taiji Jian Tradition by Scott M. Rodell. Rodell is a disciple student of Wang Yennien who also studied taiji jian with T.T. Liang (Zheng Manqing’s senior student). The wide popularity of Chinese Swordsmanship naturally led to the author receiving multiple invitations to present seminars at home and abroad. Teaching seminars on three different continents, Teacher Rodell’s efforts helped carry the art of Chinese Swordsmanship from obscurity and near extinction to wide recognition as a powerful and effective sword art. Most recently (July ‘06), Rodell began a new phase in his teaching program, instructing children. Along with his 8 1/2 year old son, Feihong, he traveled Down Under to help create a children’s swordsmanship program in Australia.

One could say that Feihong’s training started in the womb. His mother practiced Yangjia Michuan Taijiquanright up until his birth and still practices. His father told him about the eight basic movements and basic sword cuts while he was still in his mother’s belly. Not surprisingly, Feihong had a sword in his hand before he could walk properly. As he grew, Feihong received instruction from his father in the basic cuts of the Yangjia Michuan Taiji Jian system, as well as two-man drills and free swordplay. Like all boys, Feihong prefers the latter. Teacher Rodell also taught him the use of the Chinese two-handed saber (miaodao) and saber and shield work to broaden his understanding of swordsmanship. At the age of seven, Feihong began sport foil fencing at a local academy, as his father felt he needed to play kids his own age and not just adults. So when the opportunity to help his father lead a seminar arose, Feihong was ready.

After deflecting, Feihong Rodell, on left, steps forward to delver a thrust.

Linda Heenan, one of Rodell’s students, organized the Children’s Sword Camp. She also organizes the Australian Branch of Great River Taoist Center. GRTC’s Children’s Program started a club after school with a small core group of boys and girls. Mrs. Heenan’s experience as a grade school teacher provided her with the knowledge and experience needed for teaching the children. Her training in Yangjia Michuan Taiji Jian under Rodell gave her the material she needed for a curriculum. But she had other problems to work out, such as creating safe equipment for the children to use for their training. With the help of classmates from as far away as Estonia, she was able to find the right fencing masks and other safety equipment. However, no padded jian appropriate for children are commercially available, so Mrs. Heenan created them herself.

One evening she and her classmate, Tashi James, got together to solve the problem of a safe, children’s jian. Hilts were created using a practice jian as a template. The design was cut from thick leather with glued inserts between the two halves to build up a pommel. Lengths of dowel, padded with closed cell camping mat foam glued around them, were used to form the blade. Electrical tape provided stability for the padding. This padded blade was covered with a sock that was taped in place. This cloth covering was essential for allowing the swords to slide against each other as true steel swords would. The leather hilts were glued and riveted around the protruding dowel end, which acted as a tang. The hilts were finally fixed into position and made strong and slip-proof by means of split pins. The final stage was to wrap the hilts with cloth and then electrical tape. This covered the split pins and gave the familiar oval shape to the grip. Even though the swords were small and padded, they needed to have a good balance and the right feel in the hand. A correct grip is important for wrist flexibility and accurate cuts. Where children are concerned, small, easily damaged wrists need to be considered.

Young students practice a voiding drill to learn how to yield.

Mrs. Heenan strongly believes that training children is one little thing she can do to strengthen the future of the lineage from which she has gained so much. She feels it is a way of giving back some of the countless hours her teacher has spent on her training. Those who attended the club sessions prior to the camp were taught correct grip, stances and most of the basic cuts. They did precision work, played games that emphasized correct movements, and engaged in free swordplay as often as they could persuade Mrs. Heenan they were ready for it.

It had been no easy task to persuade parents that swordsmanship was a worthwhile pursuit for their children. Sports such as soccer have a firm hold on the thinking of Australian families. Most had to choose one or the other, and the attraction of activities friends were already involved in was too much for some. Yet the rewards of young students joining the program balanced out the disappointments and the club grew. Linda enjoyed many special moments, like when an 11-year-old girl announced that she planned to be the first child to learn the Yangjia Michuan Taiji Jian form. As far as she knows, Mrs. Heenan is the only Australian to practice all eight sections of the jian form, and it will be interesting to see if her child student can become the second.

On the first day of the children’s sword camp, Rodell and his son assistant, Feihong, found themselves faced with a room full of enthusiastic young Australians. The Rodells began with the program they worked out at home in America. “We’ll teach by me and my dad demonstrating,” Feihong explained.

Teaching children historical swordsmanship is quite different from teaching adults. Kids obviously aren’t going to focus long enough to learn forms or even do the taiji basic exercises to stretch out. Instead of more traditional taijiquan basic exercises, the Rodells led the group in stretching exercises common to many gym classes. Once stretched out, they moved right into simple callisthenic-like sit-ups and push-ups. Teacher Rodell was concerned to find that many children had a fair deal of trouble with 20 sit-ups and so was happy they decided to include calisthenics in the swordsmanship program. “Obesity is a real problem amongst children today,” said Rodell, “none of our kids were seriously overweight and we want to keep it that way.”

In order to keep things simple and to produce real results, the program focused on three basic cuts from the Yangjia Michuan Taiji Jian system. Teacher Rodell chose the ci (thrust), pi (split) and liao (upward slice) cuts. He chose these three for two reasons. The first reason is they are cuts that are quite effective in many situations and facing a variety of weapons. The second is they are fairly easy to learn while developing important skills that will take students further. They are also cuts common to most systems of Chinese jian swordsmanship.

In many ways, the format of the instruction was parallel to that of the adult Chinese swordsmanship seminars Rodell regularly leads. The major difference between the children’s training and that of adults is the length of time spent on each segment of the training. Also, one just has to use games when teaching children. They are very competitive, so one has to find ways to use this creatively, in a healthy fashion.

Feihong Rodell on right, deflects & circles his jian forward to score with a zha cut.

Stepping relays combined the training of necessary movements with enthusiasm and sportsmanship. The children quickly learnt the difference between a half step with a thrust and galloping thoughtlessly up the court. Incorrect stepping was met with calls of “No, go back and start again,” from Rodell. The young students knew the penalty for coming last in such a relay was push-ups, star jumps or sit-ups. Avoiding the amusement of the winners, who mercilessly counted each and every sit-up the last place team performed, was also a large incentive. They loved the relays, despite the penalties, collapsing into giggles with one too many push-ups and cheering when it was the other team’s turn.

Children regularly attending the swordsmanship club enjoy precision games such as the ring toss. Each child attempts to catch 10 rope rings spun into the air by using ci to thrust the sword through the center. A beginner player is considered successful when he or she can catch 8 out of 10 with the stronger hand and 6 out of 10 with the weaker. The aim is to gradually reach 100% accuracy.

The universally best-loved competition during the seminar was a daily tournament. Children were paired in short matches that ended when one side scored three clear points. Many of these matches went down to the last point at two all, generating animated encouragement from the audience. Sometimes Teacher Rodell would pause the action after a point to instruct on better deflections, more useful strikes and good body mechanics, making the exercise useful to the watchers as well as the participants. He found himself most often asking, “How should we move the sword to deflect?” to which the students replied in chorus, “With the waist!” Winners of the beginning rounds were then matched until the competition narrowed to a final pair. Feihong Rodell, despite being one of the youngest, won these competitions repeatedly. This did not put the others off. They knew where his training had come from and saw him as a challenge, eagerly volunteering to play him. In response to requests and prodding from the children, Linda and her teacher, Rodell, faced each other with full-weight wooden swords. Perhaps it is part of the Australian way, but just as the children choose to be matched with Feihong, Linda, with no chance of winning, relished the opportunity of swordplay with her teacher simply for its learning value.

Much was achieved during over the Youth Camp. Feihong noted, “The kids learned not to hit the sword,” but to deflect and go for a cut to the body. He also wrote it was interesting because it was summer, but winter there. “It was fun because it was my first time teaching.” “In a few short days, these kids really did learn the basics of jian swordsmanship,” noted Rodell. “They have nothing in the way, so they learn very quickly.”

It is unfortunate that many Chinese martial arts, once carefully preserved in the lives of well-trained disciples, have vanished irretrievably from our world. The art of Chinese swordsmanship in particular has wavered precariously on the brink of extinction. Given the inconsistency of human nature, wisdom dictates more than passing on a tradition to one’s immediate students. A visionary teacher may feel his job is done when the students of his students are teaching the art correctly to their own students; a bridge created from not one, but four generations. These children taking the first steps into our revived tradition of Chinese swordsmanship are a small part today but a huge leap towards the future preservation of Yangjia Michuan Taiji Jian and Chinese swordsmanship

Collectively Written By Great River Students

On the lawn in front of the Mereranna Spa several dozen people move in a single rhythm, graceful and coordinated, literally dancing to music that only they can hear. This impression is not spoiled even by the imposing wooden swords that they [...]]]> Sword Battle in Narva
Reprinted from “Narvskaia Nedelia” (“Narva Weekly”)
By Irina Tokareva (translated from Russian)

On the lawn in front of the Mereranna Spa several dozen people move in a single rhythm, graceful and coordinated, literally dancing to music that only they can hear. This impression is not spoiled even by the imposing wooden swords that they are brandishing. This is what one of the exercises looks like at the seminar on the internal Taoist martial art, T’ai Chi Ch’uan, which is becoming increasingly more popular in Estonia. Running the seminar is American Scott Rodell – the very person who brought the genuine art of T’ai Chi to Estonia 11 years ago.

Scott M. Rodell, director of the Great River School in Washngton, first came to Estonia 11 years ago. Since then he has succeeded in conducting around 20 seminars in Tallinn and Narva. “Now I have more students in Estonia then in Washington,” said Scott. More than 70 people of both sexes ranging in age from 10 to 60 came to the current seminar from Narva, Tartu, Parnu, Tallinn, and Saint Petersburg. The students are welcoming people, eagerly allowing themselves to be photographed, but at the same time people of few words and modest. On their tee shirts, in Russian, English, and Estonian, is written the name of the school: “Great River.”

In Rodell’s opinion, the art of Taijiquan helps people find themselves, to realize their individuality and it is precisely that which makes it so attractive. “T’ai Chi is a tool. It doesn’t matter if you have a good brush. What are you going to do with it – will you paint a picture or will you paint a roof, it depends only on you, on your own inclination,” Rodell explained.

At the same time Taijiquan is an actual martial art offering excellent, practical results. “The reputation of this style is higher than European or Japanese styles of swordsmanship,” Rodell feels, having explained that he has fought in personal duels where representatives of other sword styles took part, and he defeated them. You can study T’ai Chi your whole life, becoming an ever more accomplished fighter. The very youthful 42-year old Rodell realizes that his own teacher, who is twice his age, can still easily knock him down.

Miaodoa practice

Rodell believes that he was the first to bring genuine Taijiquan – which should not under any circumstances be considered simply a sport – to Estonia. “Quite a few people are in the Taiji business, especially in America. They are received very well because they are Chinese; but in fact they don’t have any real strength. Mastery of the real art of Taijiquan does not depend on the color of your skin, and some of my best students are the Russian students,” Rodell said.

He wound up in Estonia by fate. “It is a funny story,” Scott suggests. Still during the time of the USSR Scott met a fellow from Sochi, a president of the local Wushu federation, who visited to America and came to the Great River school. Once he phoned and said that he was in a taxi with two strange Russians who were looking for a martial arts school. “Well, great, so bring them to me,” Scott answered. “The strange Russians turned out to be the brothers Eldar and Elmar Efendiev, who were looking for a yoga school. “But we met and they invited me to Estonia – it was probably fate,” Scott concluded.

Scott realized that he has been coming to Estonia for a long time, and feels at home here. He is very happy with his students here – they distinguish themselves by their self-discipline, purposefulness, kindness toward each other, and love for nature, all characteristics necessary to become a genuine Taijiquan fighter.

Scott Rodell from America believes that his connections with Estonia are determined by the destiny. Ten years ago a couple of individuals from Narva visited his school in Washington, after that Rodell has repeatedly been to Estonia to teach taijiquan. Rodell is married to a Chinese lady with whom he shares a [...]]]> Tallinn, Estonia, Feburary 2001

Scott Rodell from America believes that his connections with Estonia are determined by the destiny. Ten years ago a couple of individuals from Narva visited his school in Washington, after that Rodell has repeatedly been to Estonia to teach taijiquan. Rodell is married to a Chinese lady with whom he shares a three-year son.

What does Taiji mean for you?

To put it simply taiji is an ancient Chinese martial art. For me it’s meaning is greater – taijiquan keeps me health, makes me strong, this is not just a form of intellectual soul-searching. Taiji develops both one’s body and one’s mind.

Is Taiji more a sport or a lifestyle?

I would say that Taijiquan is a martial art, although you may call it a lifestyle. Taijiquan offers an opportunity to develop oneself, a way for resolving problems peacefully without having to hit someone immediately. An adversary who is bigger by size does not evoke fright; one is capable of maintaining one’s inner calm and confidence. One’s body remains seem soft on the surface, but when the core is made of steel then one is able to use one’s powers, and if necessary – to direct the adversary’s powers against himself.

How long have you practiced Taiji?

More than 20 years.

Do you know Taiji enough, not enough or more than enough?

That?s a good question, I have never thought of it. I can say that I no longer must visit my teacher to learn more. But in principle one can never know Taijiquan exhaustibly because it is an internal martial art. Why? One does not try so much to develop one’s muscles and reflexes but rather to build one’s inner energy that is inexhaustible. To put it in a context – when I was approaching my 40th birthday and my teacher was already 85 years old he managed to defeat me in a push hands easily. Just think about it, he was twice my age, but turned out to be better. If I keep my mind free I will be developing constantly also.

How do you practice, what kind of exercises do you do?</p>

Taijiquan is a large system. When I am alone I primarily perform the basic exercises as well as hand and weapons forms. Practices are intended for the whole body. Weapons forms are more difficult, they are faster and more powerful, exercises without weapons are slower and, of course, more meditative by their nature.

Where are your schools?

The Main Branch is in Washington, it is called Great River Taoist Center, or GRTC for short. There are two schools in Tallinn, three in Tartu, one in Narva. In addition to these there are three schools in Moscow, one in Kolomna and one in St. Petersburg.

Why Estonia?

I do not know, I think it must be destiny. In the Soviet times I was invited to Moscow to teach. Ten years ago I received an unexpected phone call from some strangers visiting Washington, who asked questions about my school. It turned out that they were from Narva. They were actually looking for a yoga school, but when they heard that I was planning to travel to Russia soon, they invited me to Estonia. I have to admit that at that time I had heard of Estonia, but I knew nothing about the state. Besides I have always been more interested in Asian culture.

What kind of students Estonians are? How do they accept Taijiquan?

I believe that considering that Taijiquan is relatively new for them they appreciate the opportunity to study it quite highly. In general Estonians are arduous. But like everywhere some students are better, some are worse. Attitude towards practice here is however different from the attitude in America. The Americans are used to more easy ways of getting things.

What are the more general objectives of your life?

I would like to do many interesting things. I cannot call it exactly my life’s objective but I believe that people should do each other good. They should not live just for themselves, but give something back to the society too. Maybe this is my goal in life.

Some historic notes about Taiji: The history of Taiji Quan dates back to the antiquity, and for this reason it is extremely difficult to say when exactly it was developed. The skeleton of Taiji is the Yin-Yang balance theory the roots of which go back to early Taoist techniques from 5000 to 3000 years BC; whereas the “flesh” of Taiji is made of the “Taiji classics” the first of whom was Laozi (5th century BC). Chang Sanfeng, whose life is yet undated, is believed to be the creator of Taijiquan. Admittedly he saw a struggle between a stork and a snake and, inspired by this vision, he developed a complex of exercises that resembles this fight. But this is only one of the possible versions.

Original Article

Buddha - Signed by [...]]]> Every art speaks a language. Calligraphy speaks in brush strokes, articulated in ink. The brush, ink, stone, and paper are the scholarís four treasures. With these tools the calligrapher practices essential basic brush strokes that make up any character. Mastery of these is necessary to freedom of expression with the brush.

Buddha - Signed by Wang Yen-nien

Swordsmanship speaks in the language of cuts and thrusts. The serious student of the sword practices endless repetitions of the eight basic cuts. Without mastering these eight, the practice of any sword form will be empty. He has only one treasure, but values it as the scholar does the four.

Achieving a high level in either art requires using the whole body. It requires a fluidity of being and being in only the moment. Each is a meditation for self cultivation, a tool for polishing the character and spirit, as much as a physical action. A meditation that is an art form, an art form that is meditation.

Wang Yen-nien at Great River Taoist Center 1986

To know the artist’s inner spirit, we carefully, mindfully, examine his written characters. To know the swordsmanís soul, we must observe him at work, executing his form. While the calligrapher demonstrates and expresses ësomethingí on the paper, the swordsmanís art is more subtle, hidden internally out of the public eye, appearing only for the moment.

The object of wielding the sword or brush is to achieve a unity of the spirit and body. Each can be used as a tool for self cultivation. When I draw a brush across paper, I always feel like I am cutting with my jian. As I move through the sword forms, I often feel as if I’ve written an enormous character.

"Yin Yang" - Signed Shang Shou Zi

Students of Wuyi (martial arts) may study a manís calligraphy to gain some insight into who he is, or might have been. Most Asian cultures believe that a personís handwriting is a mirror of his character. In China, famous people have had copies of their calligraphy literally carved in stone to preserve it as an inspiration to future generations. Traveling in the Mainland, whenever I heard of a piece of Emperor Kangxi’s or his grandson Qianlong’s calligraphy preserved nearby, I made a detour to see it. I can never meet these men, who are now long dead. Yet I feel like I got to know a little of them, sitting quietly studying the flow of their brushs captured in unmoving stone. I regret there is no way I can observe them handle a sword. In my pursuit of taijiquan (t’ai chi ch’uan), I have been very fortunate to study with and be acquainted with several genuine masters. I feel particularly honored to have accepted the gifts of their brushwork. Each piece is as unique as the teacher who wrote it. Each work also has something in common with all the others. This exhibition is in celebration of the Fifteenth Anniversary of the Great River Taoist Center. The Center is a place where we come to cultivate ourselves and polish bright the spirit. With this exhibition, we have sought to link the observable art and masterís spirit, expressed in ink, with the unseen potential in the tools of martial arts. Striving for unity of body-mind and intent, our watchwords might be Wenwuxing, or cultivated martial way. We do not wish to set pen against the sword, but join them in harmony.

"Root is in the foot, spring from leg" - Signed Chen Zhi Cheng (William C.C. Chen)

As a student of martial arts since the age of nine, I have always been drawn to swords and their elegant sweeping form. Some years ago, as my practice of taijiquandeepened, a desire for a real sword grew. As a serious musician might lust for a Stradivarius to play, I sought the real thing in steel. Being a serious “taiji bum” at the time, any sword was out of my reach, costing what I might make in a year. I answered this challenge by starting my own business dealing in antique arms. Not only did this allow me to build a small armory for my own use, but it brought me in greater contact with Chinaís history and her martial culture. In turn I met many scholars in the field of arms and armor and befriended other serious practitioners of Chinese martial arts as they came looking for their chosen instrument.

Having traveled extensively to expand my study in the field of Chinese arms, I can say that there has never been as extensive a public display of Ming and Qing arms and armor as this. Many of the pieces on display are unique, and no similar examples can been seen in any museum anywhere. This exhibition is the direct result of the network of friends and students of history and martial arts that grew over the past few years. Without their help, my own studies would have been extremely limited. I especially want to thank Philip Tom, our curator. Without question, he is the greatest resource for students of the history and development of Asian and East European arms and armor. I also want to thank Ken Kung and Paul Haig Galleries for their loans of swords and armor. Their generosity has added much to this exhibition. Without the numerous hours spent behind the lens by George Parides, we would not have the excellent photos for our catalog. We also are truely indebted to him for his hard work. This exhibition could not have taken form without the tireless work of Great River Students Betsy Anderson, Paris Bustillos, Tosha Grantham and John Sherburne. Without their behind-the-scenes efforts this exhibiton would have remained just an idea.

"Mind Arrives, Qi Arrives, Power Arrives"

Scott M. Rodell, Founder and Director,
Great River Taoist Center
all rights reserved, 1999.

Gungfu has no end, practice yourself
sharp skill comes from diligence
work hard on yourself
Signed Yang Zhendou (son of Yang Chengfu)

The above was first publish as the introduction to: Sword & Brush, Art From China’s Martial Tradition, an exhibtion organized in celebration of GRTC’s Fifteenth Anniversary in October, ‘99. Exhibition catalogs are available (36 pages with 32 color & 7 black & White illustrations) for $27.50 plus $1.25 shipping within the US or Canada. The catalog includes a detailed description of all armaments along with articles on Sword & Brush Together, the Art of the Jian & An Introduction to Chinese Sabers. You can order copies by calling Seven Stars Trading Co. at (703) 768-8676.

Most collectors of Asian arms are aware [...]]]> The medieval Chinese dynasties saw great advances in metallurgy. Some, like the ability to produce cast iron, were far ahead of such technology in the Europe. Others, like the mastery of efficient, large-scale steel production, enabled the Tang and Song dynasties to become major military powers in east Asia.

Most collectors of Asian arms are aware that the techniques of forging and tempering developed in China are the basis from which developed the reknowned Japanese swords. These skills arrived in Japan as early as the Sui and Tang dynasty China (AD 589 onward).

The connoisseurship of Japanese sword has thrived over the centuries and has gained an international following in our time. Today Japanese blades are rightly treasured as works of art on their own. Unfortunately, the appreciation of swords produced by the ‘parent’ smiths of China languished even in its native land. This is despite the fact that very fine blades were made in China, and that hand-to-hand combat with edged weapons often proved crucial in winning battles up through the end of the imperial period.

Sword, (jian) of composite origin,the mounts possibly late Ming though more likely early-to-mid Qing blade possibly earlier. Blade length 26" in. The bifullered blade of stout proportions, of sanmei (three-fold) structure, with a high-carbon layer between two softer and more resilient lamellar cheeks (heavily damaged by corrosion, and loss of temper due to fire) mounted in gilt bronze fittings with decoration in relief, with a grip of huanghuali wood and a wooden scabbard with dragon and cloud motifs in black lacquer (the chape missing). The pairing of a damaged and no longer functional blade to such sumptuous mounts points to the desire to maintain an salvaged heirloom sword as a piece of ceremonial regalia. The Qing aristocracy continued the Ming custom of having large and ornate jian, sheathed and encased in brocade, borne by attendents in processions.

Sadly, even enthusiastic Chinese practitioners of martial arts tend to be ignorant of the history, manufacture, and aesthetic traditions of the weapons they train with daily. Non-Chinese are in no better state. There is difficulty in reconciling the beautiful specimens on display in venues such as the Forbidden City, Muse de l’Arme in Paris, or the Moscow Kremlin with the shoddy “Boxer Rebellion trophies” or touristic bric-a-brac often seen in antique shops or at gun shows.

A major reason for this situation lies in the scarcity of literature on the subject readily accessible to today’s students. This paucity of reference material has not always been the case in China. A survey of technical and artistic treatises reveals a considerable number of works dealing with steel bladed swords, published as early as the 4th cent. AD. (There is an equally impressive body of material dealing with the earlier bronze weapons). However, the publication of such works dwindled sharply after the fall of the Ming Dynasty in 1644.

It is not known for certain why there is a relative scarcity of reference material written on swords during the Qing, the last imperial dynasty, which fell in 1911. A common explanation is that the ruling Manchus, who formed a small percentage of the empire’s population, suppressed all writing on military subjects out of fear of insurgency by the Han Chinese majority.

Ceremonial Saber Of The Imperial Court (Huangchao Baolidao) Qianlong reign, ca. 1760-95 (mounts later). Blade length 30 5/8 in. The pattern-welded blade of qiangang (inserted edge-layer) construction, the dorsal side sculpted to represent an extended dragon, with serrated spine and a modelled, openwork head at the base of the backedge, and with a chiselled panel at the forte containing the Imperial five-clawed dragon chasing the sacred jewel amid foliage. The carved detail accentuated with encrusted gold leaf, except for the scales of the dragon

At the beginning of the Qing dynasty, certain works such as Ming-era military encyclopedias were censored and restricted. However, a survey of Qing technical literature does show that a fair number of new titles were written and published throughout the dynasty. After all, the Qing still had need for the information for the benefit of its armed forces (which were predominately composed of Han Chinese troops). Research also has shown that Qing rulers could be quite pragmatic about the bearing of arms by the general populace: for instance, the Kangxi emperor was known to have vetoed a request by an official to disarm the people of Shandong Province.

What is interesting, however, about the military books published during the Qing is that they invarably deal with firearms, artillery, and explosive weapons. (These texts date primarily from the mid-nineteenth century when the empire was racked by rebellion). Even the classic late Ming encyclopedia, Wubeizhi, gives bladed weapons relatively scant attention. Why would this be so, despite the fact that edged weapons were a mainstay in the empire’s arsenals? It could be that sword technology was by then considered “old hat”, so well known by those whose job it was to master it that it hardly warranted repetition in books devoted to new technology.

It is also interesting to note that although Ming aesthetes had quite a bit to say about swords as an art form. There is however, little evidence to show that this appreciation remained strong during the Qing. A possible explanation could be that the tastes of China’s cultural elite tended to narrow as the centuries passed, becoming ever more preoccupied with arcane details of a few, beloved major art forms such as painting, porcelain, and jade. A parallel can be drawn with the decline of the furniture tradition during the later Qing. Finally, we must also take note of the influence of Confucian values, which tended to denigrate things military in favor of literary interests. During the transition to Manchu rule it may also have been a pragmatic choice for scholars not to show too great an interest in arms.

What makes the study of the Chinese sword tradition a real challenge is that those who are studying it in our time must be explorers and pioneers, not passive consumers. There is much to be done in uncovering and translating the old texts that have survived. Even more exciting is the fresh look that we can get at the achievements of the past, by studying blades that have been carefully polished and restored.

Our research to date shows that the swordsmiths of China, over the last 20 centuries, have crafted blades combining the following attributes:

1. A hard and durable edge.
2. A resilient body which absorbs shock without breaking.

In a sword, these goals can be mutually exclusive. Hard steel tends to be brittle; a resilient, springy steel is softer and will not hold an edge as well. Chinese smiths got around this problem by combining hard and soft steels in varying ways. There are three basic methods. One is called baogang, or “wrapped” steel. The hard, high-carbon steel that forms the cutting edge looks, in cross-section, like a “V” which encloses a softer core of mild steel. The core metal is often folded upon itself for more strength, or layered with wrought iron for the same effect. A baogang blade must be made with a fairly thick jacket of hard steel, or else it loses its strength with repeated sharpening and grinding.

Sword (jian), probably 18th century. Blade length 28 1/2" in. The finely-forged blade of dual-row huawen (flowery-figured) damascus steel, the lamellae of the twists running obliquely towards the point on either side of the median ridge. The fittings of chased and pierced brass, fire-gilt, and set with carved jade plaques. The scabbard surfaced with dyed shagreen. An example which is important not only for its workmanship and embellishment, but also for the use of a hilt styled after a peidao, or saber. Saber-hilted jian are depicted on Ming Dynasty imperial tomb guardian figures, and a few sumptuous examples of such swords, probably made at the imperial workshops in the Forbidden City, are extant from the first half of the Qing.

A more common form of blade forging is qiangang, or “inserted”steel. The high-carbon edge forms a core with is sandwiched between “cheeks” of mild steel. The cheeks are often made of alternating layers of iron and steel, which produce a pattern on the surface when the blade is polished. A skilled smith can manipulate the layers to produce patterns of great beauty, in addition to providing structural strength to the sword.

The last major type of forging is known in the West as “twistcore”. This type is formed of parallel bars of twisted layers of hard and soft steel, all welded into a single unit under heat and hammer. When ground and polished, the surface resembles rows of feathery, star-shaped, or swirling elements.

The other area in which Chinese smiths showed considerable ingenuity was hardening the blade by heating and quenching in liquid. This technique is almost universal, wherever blades are manufactured. China was one of the few places in which techniques were devised to differentially heat-treat the edge, as opposed to the entire blade. This practice increased the strength and cutting ability of the blade. It was developed to the highest level by the Japanese, who originally utilized the skills of immigrant smiths from China and Korea.

The beauty of the Chinese swordsmith’s craft is an art form just beginning to be rediscovered in China and elsewhere. We live in a time when new discoveries are made day to day. As we begin to see the beautiful patterns that raise from the marriage of form and function to create a sword blade of superior quality steel, we are only begining our study of the Chinese armor’s craft. There many other areas of study waiting to be explored, from decorative motif and their symbolism to the blade aesthetics that are subtly married to function.

Copyright Seven Stars Trading Co. 1998

Chinese suishu peidao ( Imperial Attendants Saber ) of qiangang (inserted steel) with the vein (inserted edge) distinguisted from the gu (body) of the blade by way of a serrrated delineation.

A chinese broad peidao with joui row twist core configuration (huaweu-gaug) with marked differentual hardening at the edge.

A Chinese jian with dual rows of huawen (flowery figured) Damascus steel with lamdelae of twists running obliquely towards the point on either side of the median ridge.