During Taiwan's 1996 presidential
campaign, candidates Lee Teng-hui, Peng Ming-min, Hau Pei-tsun and Chen Li-an
all visited master swordsmith Chen-Tien-yang at home. But it's not as though
Taiwan were ruled from horseback, so what's the connection?
The sword has a long and
distinguished pedigree in China. The beauty derives in part from the sharp
blade, the ornate pommel, the handle that fits so readily into the hand, and
the lovingly crarfted hand guard. But there is more to it than that. The sword
also stands for a devil-may-care attitude, an indomitable fearlessness, and, at
its finest, a combination of erudition and fighting prowess in the hero who stand
against injustice, content to live and die by the blade. Stirring tales
involving swords abound in Chinese history and have percolated deeply into the
collective psyche. The swordsmiths who create them are today few and far
between, but Chen Tien-yang keeps the craft alive with an all-consuming
passion. He is so renowned for his skills, in fact, that all the presidential
candidates in the 1996 campaign called on him to ask for swords reflective of
their personal status and character.
Chell was borln in 1940 in Shalu
Township, Taichung County. World War II was raging at the time, and Chen's
family left Shalu for Paihe in Tainan County when he was four months old to
avoid the conflict. At age 15 he struck out for Taipei, where he enrolled in
the night division of Chienkuo Middle School. In Taipei he met Master Liao
Yuan, a 75-year-old Shaolin monk. The pair hit it off immediately, and Chen
dropped out of school to become his disciple. He took the Buddhist name Ching
Yun, began learning the swordmaking technique practiced by the Lingnan Sect,
and followed the peripatetic Master Liao Yuan in his wanderings about Taiwan.
Good things don't come easy
In addition to swordsmithing, Master
Liau Yuan taught Chen martial arts, beginning with toughtening the body, and moving
onto training in kicking, punching, tumbling skills, unarmed combat, the use of
the staff; and of course swordplay. "If you can't wield a sword yourself;
" Master Liao Yuan advised Chen, "you won't understand the art of
swordmaking." After Chen learned the swordplay of several different
schools, Master Liao Yuan told him to practice the sword by moonlight, and when
the moon wasn't out, to practice boxing, cudgels, and staffs. To develop the
ability to respond quickly in the event of an ambush, he should learn to tell
the position of a weapon just by listening for it. On rainy days he should
practicing meditation, to clear his mind and achieve a state of inner peace.
Master Liao Yuan stressed that the
most important thing for the true swordsmith is the ability to endure hardship
--he would rather go several days without money for food than sell an inferior
sword. Chen's master had "three commandments" for the craft: Never
sell to anyone of unknown background; never sell to a jerk just because he's
rich; and never sell to anyone prone to violence. Master and disciple spent
three or months every year away from the mountain, traveling about mending
swords and sabers. The rest of the time they spent almost entirely on the
mountain making swords. Life on the mountain was simple, but the pair was often
broke.
During the rainy season of 1956 the
rain fell more than 50 days in a row. Master Liao Yuan and Chen holed up
indoors every day until they had almost no money left for food. Taking
advantage of a short lull in the rain, they rode their bicycles down the
mountain to a small military facility across the street from Taipei's little
South Gate and bought ten catties of guo ba (the chewy rice left
sticking to the pot after the rest of the rice has been scooped out), which
served them for a good many meals. Hardship of this sort inured Chen to
discomfort. "To succeed in art, " his master admonished, "you
have to be able put up with material deprivation."
Have sword, will travel
Asked if all that difficulty wasn't
enough to make a 15- or 16-year-old have second thoughts about devoting himself
to sword-making, Chen replied that parents in those days very much wanted their
kids to learn a skill, and were especially happy to see them studying under a
master from mainland China. In the 1950s, moreover, sharpening swords brought
good money. Most people earned about Nf$25- 30 per day back then, while a sword
could be sharpened in three to five days for Nf$150-300.
But while the money was good, on
many days there were no customers, and Master Liao Yuan liked to travel around
a lot. As soon as he felt he had earned enough money, he would pack up his
implements and take off. They most often plied their trade in Taipei in the
area around Kuling Street, Heping East Road, and Nanhai Road, home to many
high-ranking militaIY officers and collectors of swords and sabers. The pair
also did a lot of business on the out-skirts of town in places like Sanhsia,
Ching-mei, and Mucha, where there also lived many collectors with ming jian
(a famous or "named" sword, as explained below).
Chen will always remember the time
he was dispatched to pick up some swords from General He Ying-chin, an old
friend of Master Liao Yuan's. Chen wrapped up the swords in a big piece of doth
and headed back on foot, but the police on Nanchang Street took him for a thief
and hauled him in to the station. The police only became more suspicious when
they unfurled the doth and found three swords. The boy's protests that the
general was having the swords repaired fell on deaf ears. It took a visit to
the police by the general's aide to extricate Chen from his predicament, but
thereafter Chen could swagger about canying swords without any problems.
After Master Liao Yuan passed away
in 1962, Chen continued studying under Wu Hsiu-hai, becoming a 32nd-generation
member of Zen Buddhism's Rinzai Sect For four years Wu Hsiu-hai trained Chen in
martial arts and northern-style sword-making, and also taught him about a wide
variety of sabers and swords from both northern and southern China. During this
time Chen repaired sabers and swords, and even spent a half-year at NTU
Hospital sharpening surgical scalpels.
In 1969, approaching age 30, Chen
returned to his hometown in Shalu, where he set up shop at a small, private
temple. The Cultural Revolution was raging in mainland China, while martial law
came under strict enforcement in Taiwan. Although it was not illegal to own
swords, most people nevertheless felt it best to leave them well enough alone.
From 1969 to 1977, no one other than elite government officials dared hire Chen
to make or repair swords.
Wu Hook
During those long years of hardship,
Chen came to understand only too well the truth of the old saying, "Good
things take time." Most craftsmen make Seven-Star Swords, for example, by
drilling seven little holes into the flat of the blade and filling them with
molten copper, but Chen went the extra mile by grinding out seven notches in
the blade's edge, thus making an authentic Demon-Destroying Seven-Star Sword.
He followed up with a Dianlond Sword and a Dragon-Vanquishing Sword, all of
which he crafted on his own, for his master had already passed away by that
time. In 1978, he went on to successfully produce the Wu Hook and the Qi Clan
Saber, further strengthening his claim to fame in the martial arts world.
The Wu Hook was first made during
the Warring States period in the kingdom of Wu. Zhang Jian wrote
enthusiastically of it in Chu Sai Qu (Ode upon Leaving for the
Frontier), giving later generations an idea of the fine craftsmanship that went
into these weapons. During the Ming dynasty the emperor equipped the Dong
Chang (a domestic spy apparatus, run by eunuchs and relied upon heavily by
the Ming court) with Wu Hooks, prompting people at that time to refer to the
weapon as "the royal saber of the Dong Chang." Chen improved
upon the Wu Hook by modifying the length and giving it a very flexible blade
that made the weapon easier to wield. He also added some nice aesthetic
touches, gilding the mouth of the scabbard and the scabbard protector. His
efforts won him an ROC Consumers' Association Award of Excellence for 1996.
Another famous old saber that Chen
has modified is the Qi Clan Saber, which originated in Manchuria. Due to its
shape, reminiscent in some ways of an olive and in others of a watercaltrop,
the weapon is also called an "olive saber" or "caltrop
saber."Yet another name for it is the 'Tang saber," owing to the fact
that it was a favorite weapon of martial artists during the Tang dynasty.
One hammer-blow at a time
Total commitment to swordmaking has
enabled Chen to tough out the hard times without a shred of regret From grimy
lumps of pig iron to gleaming shafts of tempered steel, he has pounded out
thousands of swords over the years. Yet for every one of his creations that
goes to the customer, Chen tosses many more into the scrap pile.
Says Chen: "It takes patience
to smith a sword. The artistic aspect of the process is a sort of expression
through action; the craft aspect is a kind of self-rultivation. You have to concentrate
to make a sword. You can't let yourself be distracted." The first step is
to melt down different types of steel and mix them in the proper proportions.
The molten steel is made into an ingot, which is rolled much like a lump of
dough, then folded over and pounded down repeatedly. After each fold, the
pounding continues until the layers are thoroughly joined together. The steel
is then pounded and ground into a shape roughly approximating that of the
eventual blade. This process is repeated 36 times to be absolutely sure the
blade will stand up to severe punishment.
After the steel has been through
smelting heat treatment, hammering, and cooling, the metal is deliberately
exposed to the elements to test its quality. The rusted blade is then subjected
to a beating, and will be thrown away if it can't withstand the punishment. If
it doesn't break, it shall have at last proven itself. After it has been
through Chen's unique "cross hammering," the blade will emit a clear
ring when it bends, and the degree of the bending can be perfectly controlled
by a skilled martial artist. The blade will slice cleanly through just about
anything.
Chen has gotten his steel from four
main sources at different stages of his career. In the early years under Master
Liao Yuan he mostly used Fu An steel (so named because it was produced in
Fujian Province's Anxi County). This steel had many impurities and required
intensive working. Chen would work two catties of Fu An steel into a bar
of high-grade steel weighing only a quarter of that amount. A finished sword
blade only weighed two catties, but Chen had to stan out with three catties of
high-grade steel, for much metal was lost as he filed, sharpened, and polished
away. The entire process took at least a month.
Around 1960 he switched to 35-ton
leaf-spring steel from Japanese vehicles. Fu An steel, says Chen, was plenty
sharp but easily lost its edge, while leaf-spring steel from old vehicles was
just right for working because it was softened through long use. The problem with
leaf-spring steel, however, was that the shaft of the finished sword broke
easily.
The biggest breakthrough in Chen's
career came in the 1970s when his nephew Chen Ke-chang, today the director of
Feng Chia University's Department of Materials Science and Engineering, told
him about a new theory on how to improve steel. Uncle and nephew launched into
a tireless quest, comparing the materials and methods used throughout the
centuries, studying, discussing, and researching the ins and outs of
steel-making. These efforts propelled Chen to a new level of swordmaking
expertise. It was during the 1970s that he switched to a special West German
steel that offered the required softness yet yielded shafts that would not
easily break. But this steel had a draw-back too --it tended to warp when
hammered. In the 1980s Chen switched to a fine-grained Swedish steel that was
soft and not easily broken. This remains the steel that he uses most today.
In 1983 Chen registered the Chinese
characters for "Ching Yun" as a trademark, and he was also awarded
the first patent ever granted in Taiwan protecting the process for the
manufacturing of a silver sword. These were great honors, and Chen's life began
going much more smoothly from that point forward.
Swords of wisdom
One ancient Chinese word for sword
was shuang ren tong (double-edged bronze), and prior to the Tang dynasty
(AD 618-907) the weapon was also known as a shou bing (hand weapon). The
term jian first appeared during the Zhou dynasty (BC 1121-249). No
matter how it's been called, however, the sword has always been regarded as a
precious object symbolizing wisdom and valor. Originally made for warfare, the
sword's purpose underwent a change in the latter years of the Warring States
period (BC 475- 221) as iron came into use, giving rise to the saber. China's
earliest sabers appeared first in the kingdom of Chu. The use of mounted
cavaIry also began during the Warring States period when Sun Bin and Wu Qi, two
generals in the kingdom of Chu, developed nine different types of both long and
shon weapons for foot soldiers and mounted cavalry. This was the origin of the
"18 weapons," a term that has been a household word ever since. For
the purposes of combat, the saber gradually replaced the sword, which by the Eastern
Han dynasty (AD 25-220) was only an ornament worn at one's side. Still later
the sword came to a playa role in Daoist
ceremony. Tang poets Li Bai and Du
Fu learned the an of swordplay, and Li Bai wrote moving poetry about it, thus
completing the sword's migration away from the battlefield and into the lives
of the literati.
Modern collectors often mistakenly
use the terms ming jian (famous sword or "named sword") and bao
jian (precious sword) interchangeably, but Chen explains the difference. A ming
jian is simply a sword that the maker himself felt satisfied with. The
swordmakers of old concentrated all their energies in the making of each and
every sword. They had no machines to rely on, and each sword was imbued with
creative significance and purpose. Any sword successfully completed under such
conditions can be called a ming jian. A bao jian, on the other
hand, cannot be so called unless it was made to commemorate some cenain person,
place, or thing, or unless it was given a name reflecting a particular characteristic
of the sword itself. The Ci Yuan etymological dictionary states: “ A bao
jian is a highly prized sword." It was said that the renowned Kun Wu
Sword could cut through jade, and that the Yu Chang Sword could slice through a
rhino's horn. There have been many swords named after people, such as the Yue
Nu Sword and the Qi Men Sword.
In 1994, Chen won the 3rd Award for
Folk Arts for his Demon-Destroying Seven- Star Sword. As long ago as the Three
Kingdoms period (220-280), the great strategist Zhuge Liang used a
Demon-Destroying Seven-Star Sword. Later, Tao Hongjing, an alchemist active in
the Liang dynasty (502-549) made a Seven-Star Sword by serrating the blade's
edge with seven "stars." By the Song dynasty (960-1279), however,
this type of sword was relegated to ritual use because people felt the serrated
blade was simply too cruel a weapon. From that time forward, Demon-Destroying
Seven-Star Swords were made by drilling little holes in the flat of the blade
and filling them with molten copper. But Chen was not content with that. Using
a manual bequeathed to him by his mentor, Chen filed out seven brilliant
"stars" by hand, with the cuts made from 106 different angles. The
resulting sword was beautiful to behold and a formidable weapon as well. In
1996 Chen won the 5th Award for Folk Arts with his Qi Clan Saber. In the
meantime he was also displaying literary accomplishment, publishing such works
as "Zen and Autumn Water,", “Three Feet of Autumn Water,"
"A Mind for Swords, a Hean for Poetry," "My Life as a Sword
Maker," and "Passing the Torch to a New Generation of
Swordmakers."
Time off for different behavior
At age 50 Chen established a
personal tradition of dosing up shop once every five years. He has shut down
three times so far. His purpose in so doing is to "shut down" the
unclean desires of the hean (greed, anger, obsession, and the craving for fame
and fortune), and to use the time off to grow as an mist. At age 60, he dosed
shop for a year and a half to study ancient swordmaking treatises and make replicas
of ancient swords. Tao Hong-jing wrote in Swords Ancient and Modern:
"During the Three Kingdoms period, in the first year of the Zhangwu reign
[AD 221] Liu Bei, ruler of the kingdom of Shu, crafted eight swords from iron
mined on Golden Bull Mountain. Into each sword the name "Zhangwu" was
incised. These were known as "the eight swords ofZhangwu, " or
"the eight swords of the Shu king." Chen's replicas of the eight
swords of Zhangwu bear a dragon motif, symbolizing Liu Bei's status as the true
heir to the Han dynasty throne. In addition, the swords feature an ornate
floral pattem reminiscent of the decorative style in fashion during the Han
dynasty.
In Notes on China from Ancient
Times to Today (written in the Ming dynasty, 1368-1644) there is a chapter
on sabers and swords, where it is written: 'The Great Emperor of Wu [who
ascended the throne in AD 222] had six bao jian, called White Snake,
Purple Lightning, Banisher of Evil, Star Rider, Qing Ming, and Baili."
Unfonunately, all six swords are lost. But in the course of his research Chen
developed a particular fondness for the Banisher of Evil because of the name's
auspicious connotations, so he crafted a sword by the same name, with Han-style
carvings symbolizing "banishment of evil" on either end of the knob
of the sword handle. The effect is powerful, and lends the sword an imposing
air of authority. The public was encouraged during the Ming dynasty to practice
martial arts, and people were intensely competitive about it. Ming dynasty
metal workers were the first in the world to use coke and piston bellows in
swordmaking, and they developed a number of advanced steelmaking techniques
that led to the production of out-standing sabers and swords. Chen greatly
admires the Ming dynasty for its emphasis on swords and swordplay. He improved
on the one-handed Ming long sword by simplifying and streamlining it, and by
combining the best traditional forging techniques with today's most advanced
steels and heat treatment processes. He named his sword Vermilion Gate to
express his intent to combine nostalgia, preservation, and innovation. In an
age when swordmaking is in decline, Chen feels a duty to resurrect the swords
of ancient times, and to help people understand them.
Another reason for closing shop once
every five years is Chen's intense desire to pass on his skills to a new
generation. When Master Liao Yuan accepted Chen as an apprentice, he did so on
three conditions. Among them, Chen had to promise that he would "never
pass on the art of swordmaking to anyone who mistreats their parents, to anyone
who treats others with disrespect, or anyone who would abandon their principles
for a price." Chen took his promise seriously, and so in the past 30 and
more years has only taken ten apprentices. Only two remain with him today. It
is a great comfort to Chen that one of them, Su Chia-yu, is also a two-time
winner of the Award for Folk Arts.
In addition to making swords and
taking apprentices, Chen is also the proprietor of the Chin-Yun Sword Folk
Cultural Gallery, which he opened in Shalu Township in 1984. On display at the
museum are the sabers and swords that Chen has collected over the years,
including a stone saber dating to the Warring States period. Unearthed in
Taiwan, the saber is quite well preserved. But perhaps the biggest attraction
is an executioner's sword, whidl features a rusty blade that hints at the many
lives it must have taken in centuries past
One cannot but note a sharp contrast
between Chen's life story and the legends that abound in martial arts novels.
In the novels, a martial artist typically enters the mountains in search of a
master and encounters an immortal sage who gives him a sword that makes him the
best swordsman in the land. Chen's rise to the top of his craft has hardly been
so meteoric. His swords are completed slowly, at the cost of tremendous sweat.
And he certainly wouldn't dream of emulating the mythical swordsmith Gan Jiang,
whose forge ran out of metal just as he was trying to make a blade. The problem
was solved by Gan Jiang's wife, who jumped into the furnace, sacrificing her
body to get the metal flowing again! Unlike the heroes of legend, there have
been no shoncuts for Chen. But his real-life story is more moving than any
legend could ever be.
(Kuo
Li-chuan/photos by Jimmy Lin/ tr. by David Mayer)
