The History, Literature, and Art of Tibetan Swords

Tibetan armor and weapons were renowned for their quality and effectiveness from as early as the period of the Yarlung dynasty in the seventh century.1 Swords (reldri) were one of the principal weapons and remained in use throughout Tibet for well over a thousand years, only being superseded by firearms in the early twentieth century.2 Swords are still worn today as part of traditional dress in culturally Tibetan regions on festival occasions. In addition to their former martial function, swords also retain deep significance within Tibetan Buddhism as ritual objects, wielded by oracles or in sacred dances, and as a symbolic weapon of many deities, particularly the wrathful guardians of Buddhism (Tibetan: gonpo, Sanskrit: dharmapala), and as such are frequently rendered in sculpture, paintings, and other sacred images and texts. As the Sword of Wisdom (sherab reldri), for example, representing the ability to cut through spiritual ignorance, it is a chief attribute of bodhisattva Manjushri (Jampelyang). Aspects of this symbolic power are sometimes expressed in the form and decoration of actual swords, which can be complex and beautiful objects, combining expensive materials and fine craftsmanship.3 However, the majority of Tibetan swords made prior to the modern era are simple and functional objects with minimal decoration, some of which bear signs of repairs or alterations that indicate their reuse over many years, if not generations.

Traditional Tibetan Texts and the Typology of Tibetan Swords

A small number of Tibetan texts devoted to arts and crafts (zorik) and the appraisal and appreciation of objects (taktab) include chapters outlining the connoisseurship of swords.4 These texts, which date from the fourteenth century to the eighteenth or nineteenth century, ignore hilts, scabbards, or other fittings and focus on blades exclusively, dividing them into five canonical types, each with multiple subtypes. Their “defining characteristics” (tsennyi) and “invariable features” (mingyur ngepai tak), terms more familiar from Tibetan debate manuals and other textbooks involved with monastic education, are categorized and described in ways that are often poetic and metaphorical, rather than technical.5 The five types that repeat in all of the texts, with some variations in spelling, are: zhangma, sokpo, hupe, guzi, and jarel. Explanations of the meanings of the five names vary among the texts and appear in part to be fanciful etymologies created to supply lost facts.6 For instance, zhangma in one text is said to derive from the western Tibetan kingdom of Zhangzhung and in another to refer to the emperor’s uncle (Tibetan: zhang), who created the type. The only unambiguous name, sokpo, connects the creation of this type to a branch of the Mongols (Tibetan: sog po). For each there is an origin story involving a legendary event or a mythological, legendary, or historical figure, the earliest starting in the reign of the semilegendary fifth- or sixth-century king, Trigum Tsenpo (his name meaning, “to die by the sword”).7 While it is seldom possible through the texts to make direct correlations between the canonical types and existing Tibetan swords, the texts nevertheless demonstrate the importance accorded to swords historically and establish a literary foundation for their understanding and appreciation.8

The Art and Technology of Tibetan Blades

The blades of most extant Tibetan swords, those handmade prior to the twentieth century, have a “hairpin” pattern clearly visible on both sides (fig. 2), possibly what is sometimes referred to in the texts as being “like the Milky Way.”9 The pattern is formed of closely set, slightly wavy, alternating dark and light lines that meet in a point near the tip of the blade. It is created by a forging process known as pattern welding, in which rods of higher carbon and lower carbon iron or steel are folded over and hammered together. In the textual references the harder, whiter steel is generally called “male iron” (pochak) and the more ductile, darker steel is “female iron” (mochak).10 Other less frequently encountered patterns include a series of wavy lines resembling tiger stripes, a series of concentrically rolled lines, and, rarest of all, a more complex variegated pattern that looks something like swirling water or burl wood.

One of the few known examples of this last type is preserved on the sword featured here (fig. 3). The blade ranks among the finest examples of Tibetan pattern welding, evoking ripples and eddies in swirling water, billowing clouds, flowing mist, and wood-grain designs, in some ways reminiscent of the ethereal forms of hamon (tempering patterns) seen on the famed samurai sword blades of Japan. The pattern on this blade fits a description by Tashi Namgyel, writing in the sixteenth century, of blades made from blending together “mixed iron” (nadu, nadu dre, or chakdre) to create “many flowing and swirling designs.”11

Its hilt is an ornate example of the classic Tibetan form, with trefoil pommel, grip wrapped in silver wire, a short collar below the grip, and oval guard with downturned and cusped edges—the sides of the pommel, collar, and guard chiseled and gilt with matching designs. Unfortunately, the characteristic bead of turquoise or coral, usually mounted in a silver bezel on the front of the pommel, is missing.

A Tibetan sword, depending on the fittings of its scabbard, is generally worn in one of two ways. Many are designed to be carried diagonally across the front of the body, thrust through a waist belt or sash, with the hilt to wearer’s right just above waist level. In the second method, often found with more elaborate swords, including this example, the scabbard is suspended from a sword belt and worn at the left hip in a style inspired by Chinese fashion that was also popular in Tibet and Mongolia. The scabbard of this sword comprises a wooden core sheathed in leather and framed with elaborately chiseled and gilt iron mounts. It is one of the few swords that retains both its matching scabbard and sword belt, the latter also fitted with pierced and gilt-iron mounts. The mounts are excellent examples of the type of ornamental pierced ironwork often seen on Tibetan ceremonial saddles and other fine metalwork. Those on the scabbard feature panels of lush flora scrolls skillfully rendered in a precise yet fluid manner that is a hallmark of the best ironwork from eastern Tibet and Mongolia (figs. 4 and 5).

The style and treatment of the hilt, scabbard mounts, and belt fittings suggest they were made between the early eighteenth and mid-nineteenth century. The blade, a masterpiece of its kind, is probably earlier and may date from the sixteenth to seventeenth century. While it was typically not the custom in Europe to refit old blades, in Asia, it was not unusual for highly regarded sword blades, generations old, to be remounted with updated fittings, which appears to be the case here.

This sword, scabbard, and belt were reportedly captured by Lieutenant Edward Henry Lenon (1838–1893), a British soldier, at the Battle of North Taku (Dagu) Fort, Tianjin, China, on August 21, 1860.12 The battle was a fierce engagement fought within the broader context of the Second Opium War, and Lenon was later awarded the Victoria Cross, Britain’s highest military honor, for his part in it. The carnage that resulted from the devastating combined Anglo-French assault on the fortress was documented in a series of photographs by Felice Beato (1832–1909) (fig. 6). The Qing garrison was commanded by General Sengge Rinchen (1811–1865), a Mongolian nobleman and experienced soldier with a prestigious record of imperial service, who had successfully repelled an Anglo-French attack on the same fort a year earlier.13 The sword, taken by Lenon during or after the battle, is of a quality and style suitable for personal use by Sengge Rinchen or one of the Mongol officers serving under him, which would account for the presence of such an elaborate Tibetan sword in a Chinese fortress at the time.