the Sword of Old Japan. 29 
wore the eboshi or small lacquered cap, while a shimenawa, or 
straw rope, was stretched across the smithy to scare away evil 
spirits and invite good ones. It was believed that the Kamis, 
or spirits of his ancestors, came to the forger’s, and when he 
hammered out the metal, put the blade into the furnace, 
annealed and tempered it, sharpened and polished it, and added 
the signature, the god Inari, who lives in the fir woods, and whose 
image for this reason is often accompanied by that of a fox, on 
some occasions came to help the forger in the making of his 
finest blades. 
According to an article by Philippe Burty, which appeared in a 
publication entitled ‘Artistic Japan,’ the possession of a renowned 
blade was of itself sufficient to ensure its owner being treated with 
the utmost respect. 
“ A young Japanese, a page in the house of a prince, before 
the revolution of 1868, told me that sometimes a man in shabby 
and stained clothes appeared at the gate of the castle and begged 
for a hearing. He drew from his belt his two swords, placing 
them in the hands of the pages, and was in a short time allowed 
entrance. The younger people smiled at his strange appearance, 
and then hastened to examine his swords, which were placed upon 
a rack of lacquer decorated with armorial bearings. When the 
man retired he received back his swords, which were presented to 
him with the greatest respect. Their exquisite quality bore 
witness to the fact that they alone remained as relics of the 
former exalted position of their master.” 
Although it was the privilege of a numerous and powerful 
class to carry two swords, it was forbidden to wear them in the 
presence of the Emperor, or even to draw the blade within the 
precincts of the palace. A story, probably true, is told of a certain 
damio, high in imperial favour, who, hearing before he went to 
the palace of a plot against his life, entered with his ki dachi, 
i.e. &@ Sword with a wooden blade, which was permissible, but to 
deceive his enemies he had had the wooden blade coated with 
silver paper, thus presenting the appearance of an actual blade; 
this he drew and flourished about, by this means intimidating 
his enemies, who, knowing him to be an accomplished fencer, 
refrained from attacking him. On leaving, he deposited the 
weapon at the door of the palace. Next morning he was 
summoned, as he had anticipated, to explain his conduct, for he 
had apparently incurred the penalty of death. Calling for the 
sword he had deposited, he broke the wooden blade in the presence 
.of the Emperor, covering his enemies with confusion, and rising 
still higher in the monarch’s favour. 
No student of Japanese history can fail to be familiar with 
the story of the Forty-seven Ronin. Grossly insulted by a high 
official, Asano, the lord of the castle of Ako, drew his sword 
