Yamaoka Tesshu (1836 – 1888).

Sword hero of the early modern era in Japan.

Yamaoka Tesshu’s entire dramatic and inspirational life story was contradictorily in that it was both simple and complicated.

The simple key passions that drove him were essentially three things; swordsmanship, Zen and calligraphy. These were not separate entities in his life, they were intimately intertwined. And, in all three areas his energy was such a power drive as to be almost beyond the obsessive, the furthest you could ever go without tipping into insanity; I am not exaggerating.

I am grateful to the scholarly work on John Stevens in his biography of Yamaoka Tesshu, ‘The Sword of No-Sword’. Stevens points out that Tesshu’s life was so well documented that it was a huge effort for him to untangle reality from myth. It makes a great story.

Politics.

Thinking about it, it would seem impossible that someone with so much vitality and presence would not be recognised for his strength of character and be drawn into the tumultuous politics of 1860’s Japan.

It’s a complex story, too long to go into in this short article, but I will try and condense it.

In 1856 Tesshu joined the then outdated and floundering Shugunate as a minor official. By 1867 he had entered the personal guard of Shogun Tokugawa Yoshinobu. This was at a time when civil war erupted; multiple skirmishes occurred between the supporters of the Shogunate and the Emperor. The story is that Tesshu took upon himself to act as go-between in negotiations between the two forces, and on behalf of Shogun Tokugawa Yoshinobu strolled boldly into the hornet’s nest that was the camp of the opposition, and issued a declaration of concessions from the Shogun to rebel leader Saigo Takamori. Saigo was astounded by the sheer courage and confidence displayed by Tesshu that, temporarily, bloodshed had been avoided. As Japan history buffs will know, it all ended up badly for Saigo in the battle of Shiroyama in 1877.

The swordsman.

The younger Tesshu.

Physically, Tesshu cut an impressive figure; standing over six foot tall and weighing around 240 pounds (109 kg, or 17 and a half stone), that’s is one hell of a chunk of muscle. You would imagine that as a martial artist he would have it all his own way, but no.

Some of his major growth and development stages occurred after he had been bested by swordsmen who were much less physically intimidating.

The most significant humbling that Tesshu endured was at the hands of the older, more slightly-built master swordsman, Asari Gimei of the Nakanishi-ha Itto Ryu.

Dojo buster and victor of over a thousand contests, twenty-eight year old Tesshu was confident he could beat Asari, but from the first cross of Shinai (these were kendo style matches) this was going to be no pushover.

The bout went on for half a day and ended when Tesshu knocked the smaller man to the ground. He thought he’d won but was unaware that just before he bounced his opponent, Asari had executed a match-winning strike to Tesshu’s chest armour. Initially Tesshu, in his arrogance and over-confidence had been in denial. But, eventually he had to face up to reality and begged humbly to be Asari’s student (as was the tradition at the time). Asari complied with the arrangement but did not make it easy for Tesshu; quite the contrary.

In normal Dojo training the forty-year-old Asari was an unrelenting tyrant with Tesshu. When crossing swords, Tesshu found himself forced backwards by Asari’s superior technique and spiritual force. In one encounter, Asari drove Tesshu back to the Dojo wall and eventually through the door, knocking him into the street, then disdainfully slammed the door in Tesshu’s face. But Tesshu stuck with it and Asari warmed to him.

This tough love eventually resulted in Asari rewarding Tesshu with the responsibility of taking over his tradition. Effectively, he retired knowing he had chosen the right man.

Tesshu’s Shumpukan Dojo.

At his established Dojo it was not uncommon for Tesshu to have seventy to eighty swordsmen training regularly. All were astounded by Tesshu’s skill; his spooky ability to see into their hearts and minds. His mental clarity came out of ‘No-Mind’, fostered and completed through his Zen disciplines.

The Dojo became a hothouse for supremely skilled and dedicated swordsmen. Tesshu’s teaching style was not really technical as we would understand it today; the elevation of skill came through the forging of the spirit.

Tesshu’s immediate contemporaries.

In John Stevens’ book he presents us with some of the colourful characters who were part of Tesshu’s circle; referred to as ‘the crazies’, their eccentricities seemed to match Tesshu’s mad intensity; often fuelled by over-the-top alcohol consumption.

Stevens tells the story of when Tesshu’s drinking buddies informed him of a horse that was so bad-tempered nobody could get near it, let alone ride it; clearly a provocation to an already drunk Tesshu who then marched the party to the horse’s stable and, coming round the back of the animal proceeded to violently yank its tail. Amazingly, the horse didn’t respond in the predictable way and instead allowed Tesshu to calmly lead it out of its stall.

Tesshu later explained by saying, “Animals confronted with determination greater than their own immediately submit. Also, I was quite drunk, which made me even bolder than usual”.

Tesshu’s unique school of swordsmanship, ‘Muto-ryu’.

Because of the emphasis on spirit, Tesshu’s teaching emphasis was considered quite unorthodox. There was no fear of ‘paralysis by analysis’, the intensity of training, including marathon tests; fighting in hundreds of consecutive bouts, acted as a magnet to students of the sword, and there in the middle of it was the man himself. These ‘Seigan’ tests lasted days and I can’t help wondering if the 100-man kumite of the Kyokushin karate might have its origin in this.

According to John Stevens, the Muto-ryu still exists today, but the training has always been so severe, and the repetition so demanding that as a school it is struggling to survive. It’s just not popular. I expect that it is virtually impossible to rise to the level achieved by Tesshu.

Zen and Calligraphy.

I don’t want to underplay these two remaining spheres of Tesshu’s life.

Tesshu’s devotion to zazen and the mind was dedicated to the extreme. He never neglected his discipline, and is said to have achieved enlightenment at the age of 45.

Part of the final deep dive into his own soul to inevitably push through the zenic barrier, was the trauma of having to deal with the indominatable spirit of Asari Gimei. In their initial clash Asari effectively crushed Tesshu’s ego. Hence his only way to deal with the problem was not in the Kendo hall but on the meditation cushion. Zen gave him the answers he needed.

Calligraphy.

It has been said that Tesshu produced over a million pieces of calligraphic brush works; from small poems to huge banner-size pieces. He is supposed to have decorated 40,000 fans and never asked money for any of his work; people insisted on giving him small gifts, including money, but he just gave the payment away to the next person needing some kind of support or assistance.

You don’t have to be able to read the script of a piece of Tesshu’s calligraphy to appreciate how Tesshu imbued it with his own vital energy. The brush strokes have immediacy without urgency and are clearly created by a master of his craft.

The power, supreme confidence and expression in Tesshu’s calligraphic work.

Tesshu’s last days.

When Tesshu died of stomach cancer in 1888 he was only 53. His last breath matched the way he lived. He died sitting upright in traditional seiza position, composed, calm and dignified. Before his actual death he spontaneously composed his death poem, which was the haiku;

“Tightening my abdomen
against the pain -
The caw of a morning crow”.

One of Tesshu’s tearful students painted an on-the-spot portrait of his dead master, the ink running and stained by tears.

Final conclusion.

Two things:

·       If this very short piece has interested you, do track down the John Stevens biography.

·       Not mentioned above, but Tesshu was one of the three ‘Shu’s’, the other two were Kaishu Katsu, Deishu Takahashi, all contemporary with each other. These were considered the ‘three treasures of the Bakumatsu Era’. Including Tesshu they were exemplary statesmen, completely uninterested in glory, fame or money. All three were weapons experts (with Deishu it was the spear) and zen practitioners. These were samurai, but with the most elevated of moral character and highest intellectual capacity. Perfect models for what the martial arts should be aiming for in the development of human actualisation.