
Since ancient times, heroes have been paired with famous swords. The bravos of the martial arts world also have long prized swords of distinction and many have lost their lives in pursuit of such weapons. Not surprisingly then, the sword is generally also the preferred weapon of the heroes of China's chivalric romances. The plot of the recent film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, for example, revolves around the martial artist Li Mu Bai's sword Green Destiny. Why must a knight-errant always carry a sword? What role did the sword play in traditional China? How do the Chinese and Japanese "ways of the sword" differ?
Why is it that with 18 traditional weapons to choose from, China's knights-errant always carry a straight sword, or jian? Huang Te-chuan, executive director of the ROC Arts Knife and Sword Preservation Association, believes this preference is related to the weapon's form and its manufacture: "A jian has two edges and a spine, and is much harder to make than the curved saber or dao. The least mistake during the forging or shaping of the blade will leave it twisted." Huang, who collects prize swords, also notes that numerous impurities in the steel were a problem. Therefore, even though Qin and Han dynasty swordsmiths were already using smelted steel and their technology had advanced to include folding the steel and tempering just the edges, blades were still often flawed. Huang estimates that probably only one good jian was produced for every hundred good dao. The difficulty of forging a prize jian ensured that when one was made, a legend quickly formed around it. These legends typically tell of a difficulty arising at a critical point in the sword's making, as with the famed swords Mo Xie and Gan Jiang, both of whose makers fed their own bodies to their forges to complete the swords.

Swords are difficult to make, because of the double-edged blade. As a result swords came to symbolize the impartial spirit of the knight-errant, and were known as "the prince among bladed weapons." (photo by Pu Hua-chih)
Elite swords
While the rarity of these prize jian and their attached legends served to increase their prestige, other factors contributed to their elite position among bladed weapons. Jian are longer and more elegant in appearance than weapons like the morning star, dao and nunchaku. In ancient times, people of refinement were expected to know the six classics (the Book of Ritual, Book of Music, Book of Documents, Book of Odes, Book of Changes, and the Spring and Autumn Chronicles), and to have knowledge of both military and civil matters. The elegance of the jian was in keeping with this sense of refinement, and it became traditional for both generals and ministers to wear one at their side.
The knights-errant of the novels, meanwhile, were wanderers to whom the relative lightness of the jian was valuable. The jian also contributed to a dashing appearance. In the view of Professor Chen Pingyuan of Peking University's Chinese literature department, "Bearing a jian makes one handsome and dignified; it confers a heroic air." Chen notes that it would have been hard to travel far carrying a heavy dao or a pair of axes. Moreover, being adrift with book and sword carries strong connotations of refinement.
The jian is generally taken to be the most difficult of all the traditional weapons to learn. According to master swordsmith Juan Tzu-hsing, who began his martial-arts studies at the age of six, most traditional weapons require both hands. The jian is a more complicated weapon that students come to only after first studying bare-handed combat and the dao, staff and spear. Juan notes that thrusting with the point, an important skill with the jian, requires great "internal" strength. To wield the weapon effectively, students must learn not to waste their strength swinging the blade. They must also be as strong as steel themselves to thrust with power. If they lack this "internal" strength, their thrusts will be weakened by discord between the positions of their hands and the actions of their muscles. Getting back to literature, by having a protagonist wander the world with a sword, the writer of a chivalric novel makes it very clear that the hero is an accomplished martial artist.
As was mentioned above, jian technique revolves around striking and thrusting rather than the hacking attacks of the dao and the axe. As a result, jian forms are more fluid and refined, and the weapon itself feels less murderous. Jian-play becomes almost a dance. In fact, in the Tang dynasty, Gongsun Daniang became famous entertaining audiences with her sword dance. Even today, Taiwan's parks and open spaces frequently serve as practice areas for people cultivating their bodies and minds by practicing the jian.
In military circles, however, the round-handled hacking dao began to replace the jian as early as the late Eastern Han dynasty. But despite the jian's retreat from the fields of battle, a number of factors-including its relative lightness, its less murderous appearance and the rarity of good ones-added to its luster in the eyes of civilians and writers.
Stirring the wick
During the militaristic Tang dynasty, numerous poets praised jian in their verse. In both Cui Hao's "Going out with a Sword" and Ruan Ji's "Wielding a Sword near the Desert," the jian symbolizes gallantry. Li Bai was particularly enamored of the jian and is said to have taken up its study at age 15. He was also reputedly envious of knights-errant, who could "slay a man in ten steps and walk a thousand miles without pause."
According to Lin Pao-chun, a professor of Chinese literature at Tamkang University, "As the jian gradually disappeared from the battlefield, it came to symbolize an individual's spirit and will." Noting the lines, "Drunk, I adjust the lamp to view my sword/ Dreaming, the sound of the horn rings through the camp" by Song-dynasty poet Xin Qiji, Lin explains that the aging man in the poem takes hold of his jian in the night, remembering the youth he spent fighting for the empire and sighing over his unfulfilled ambition to recapture the north. A sword unsheathed represents an ambition that is still alive. But a sword put away in its case indicates that only memories remain.
Lin believes that writers and knights-errant see themselves in their swords. The jian is not just a tool; it is their life. Person and sword are one, as is made clear by the saying, "If the sword exists, so too the person; if the sword dies, so too the person." The story of impoverished strategist Feng Xuan makes the same point. Feng was so poor that he had to sleep in other people's homes and live on their sufferance. Nonetheless, he would not pawn his prize sword. He viewed the sword as his closest friend, a friend who he would live and die with, and often cried out: "My sword, let us leave!"
Many prominent historical figures bore swords. In portraits of Confucius, a sword hangs at his waist; stories tell of the first Han emperor, who was born a commoner, putting down the White Snake rebellion with sword in hand; incorruptible judge Bao Qingtian dispensed justice with a sword given to him by the emperor; and the sword of Daoist immortal Lu Dongbin had magical powers.
According to Chen Pingyuan, "Eventually, the jian was vested with more cultural significance than any other weapon, and all the knights-errant of chivalric romances strode the wide world wearing one." For Chen, the reasons why writers of chivalric romances hold the jian in such high regard are clear. In his book Qiangu Wenxue Xiakemeng (The Ancient Literati's Dream of the Knights-Errant), he notes that military men have been sweating blood to develop their jian-craft for thousands of years, and poets have long sung the praises of prize swords. Prize swords are culturally charged artifacts, and the most appropriate weapon for knights-errant. "A knight-errant straps on his sword to go out into the world. He carries that sword with him as he wanders the world repaying kindness and avenging wrongs. In these circumstances, a jian is not merely an instrument of death. It is a symbol of the knight-errant's spirit, an expression of his force of character, and a physical embodiment of cultural traditions."
Knight-errant versus samurai
The Chinese knight-errant tradition, which combines chivalry with Confucianism, requires that the knight-errant-equally versed in the civil and military arts-adhere to both the warrior code and the principle of magnanimity. Here, too, the symbolism of the jian makes it exactly the right weapon for the knight-errant. Juan Tzu-hsing explains: "The jian has two cutting edges and cannot be biased to one side or the other. This is evocative of the golden mean and reminds the martial artist of propriety." Juan, who is versed in 18 varieties of martial arts, says that a student of the jian, which symbolizes self-restraint and self-examination, must constantly examine his own behavior. From the very outset of training in jian, the master attempts to instill in the student a sense of the necessity of self-examination and the idea that although there is a blade in his hand, there should be no thought of killing in his heart. The fact that Confucius carried a famous sword but was known for his scholarship and wisdom rather than for his martial prowess epitomizes the Chinese "way of the jian," and highlights the difference between this path and that of the samurai.
The katana, or samurai sword, is a fearsome weapon that possesses attributes of both the Chinese jian and dao. The way of the samurai, meanwhile, also includes a generous helping of Zen thought. As Chuge Chingyun, an early writer of chivalric novels puts it: "The Japanese take the way of the sword as a means of personal cultivation. They use it as a method for appreciating life's highest meanings and as a path to enlightenment." Chuge further feels that when the Japanese speak of the way of the sword, they are referring to noblesse oblige. They use the way of the sword to pursue spiritual cultivation and their personal goals. However, each individual's spirituality differs with his or her personal philosophy, depth of character and desires, making the Japanese way of the sword very subjective. Lin Pao-chun elaborates: "People should try to be all that they can be in their lives. However, given that this kind of self-actualization is entirely personal, the process can lead one to immoral acts-for example, killing someone to test one's skill. Once a swordsman begins to lose his sense of the moral, his path inevitably becomes a dark one."
Chivalric novels invariably present fight scenes in great detail. However, the samurai of Japanese chivalric novels always kill their opponent with one blow. The cold, severe samurai stand in sharp contrast to the warm and sentimental characters in the Chinese novels. The well-known novelist Gu Lung once wrote a scene in which Ximen Chuixue refused to let Princess Danfeng use the jian because she was unworthy-she had violated the rules of the martial arts world by attacking someone from behind. The scene makes clear a theme of the Chinese chivalric novel: that prize swords are wielded by persons of moral virtue and lost by those lacking moral virtue, because "those misusing such swords will face the wrath of the gods."
The inner blade
But the jian is fundamentally a weapon, and fights are what interest the readers of chivalric novels. According to Chen Pingyuan, "The more modern chivalric novels in particular are devoted almost entirely to descriptions of fights, because that's what readers are looking for. In these novels, all varieties of jian-craft are glorified." And, of course, each knight-errant's jian-craft outdoes that of the last.
Look, for example, at the protagonists of the novels of the current king of the genre, Louis Cha. In Tienlong Babu, the weakling Duan Yu inadvertently learns the Six Veins Heavenly Sword style; in Xiao'ao Jianghu, Linghu Chong learns the Solitary Nine Swords style from an old master he meets on the road; in Shendiao Xialu, Yang Guo and Xiao Long Nu study the Jade Maiden Sword style together; and in Yitien Tulong Ji, the tai chi style comes to Zhang Wuji in a flash in the middle of a fight with an enemy. He puts it into practice immediately and beats the stuffing out of champions of all the major schools of martial arts.
In the Ming dynasty, qigong was incorporated into the study of martial arts and the cultivation of "internal" strength became a prerequisite to the study of the jian. With sufficient internal strength, anyone could be a Zhang Wuji. Gradual realization becomes sudden realization. Going further, what was tangible becomes intangible. Ultimately, if this internal strength is sufficient, "even a bit of grass or wood can be used as a blade." The true knight-errant needs no sword.