The Legacy of Japan’s Pink- Faced Warriors
Japanese tradition holds that a pale appearance on the battlefield is a mark of fear. For the samurai, of course, the appearance of fear was as formidable an enemy as any rival warrior. A samurai whose face showed fear during a battle could expect to be put to the sword by his own daimyo, even if the battle was won.
At stake was nothing less than clan, family, or individual honor. No daimyo could afford to be embarrassed by fielding timid, frightened fighters, and for this reason, men were hired for private armies, in some cases, based on how well they bragged about their exploits in previous battles.
Of course, we are talking about Japan during the feudal era (sengoku jidai, or Warring States period), where sickness and malnutrition were hardly uncommon. Whether he was afraid or not, a warrior’s face could be greenish or pale on any given day.
So what was a samurai to do?
Well, there was more than one answer. The first – and simplest – solution was to wear make-up. Not a lot, but enough to cover any potential paleness. The samurai smeared a form of pinkish rouge on his cheeks. This practice is similar in nature to that of the geisha, using a white paste to hide any blemishes – or that of the lower-end prostitutes of the Edo period, who used a kind of white-wash to cover up the marks of disease.
On the battlefield, the samurai wore heavy armor, and it was customary then (as is it with soldiers now) to remove the helmet during a lull in the action. The samurai custom was to remove the helmet in a forward motion, and hold it in front of the face until any smudges or blemishes in the make-up could be fixed or removed. A warrior had a duty to his daimyo, after all. One’s face had to be reddish, as if angry or flushed with the action of the battle, and the unprotected face was not shown until it was suitable.
What remains of this custom can still be seen in kendo schools today. Customarily, the men (the kendo helmet) is removed with a forward motion, and held directly in front of the face. Then, with the men still held there, the kendoka removes his tenugui (a towel worn under the men) and wipes the sweat from his brow and from the inside of the men. Only after this action is satisfactorily performed can the men be lowered, to show the face.
Another, more expensive, solution was to purchase armor that had a red-lacquered interior. The highly polished red lacquer shined on the face of the wearer and gave him a rosy appearance. Without the red lacquer, metal armor took on a green patina with time and use, and left a dangerously pale look to the face.
This practice is also still seen in kendo today. The mengane (the metal frame around the face part of the helmet) is customarily painted with a high-gloss red lacquer or enamel.
For me, it’s fascinating to note that such a warlike people as the samurai could be so vain at the same time. But I’ve also come to expect certain things in my pursuit of an understanding of them. Virtually every aspect of Japanese life – not just for the samurai, but for everyone in Japan – was dictated by tradition, propriety, and military courtesy. Nothing was done without its proscribed method, and that method always had a particular purpose. When I came across the tradition of the kendoka removing the men in a certain way and decided to look into it, I knew I would find some centuries-old military tradition behind it.
I just never expected pink-faced, rouge-wearing warriors.
At stake was nothing less than clan, family, or individual honor. No daimyo could afford to be embarrassed by fielding timid, frightened fighters, and for this reason, men were hired for private armies, in some cases, based on how well they bragged about their exploits in previous battles.
Of course, we are talking about Japan during the feudal era (sengoku jidai, or Warring States period), where sickness and malnutrition were hardly uncommon. Whether he was afraid or not, a warrior’s face could be greenish or pale on any given day.
So what was a samurai to do?
Well, there was more than one answer. The first – and simplest – solution was to wear make-up. Not a lot, but enough to cover any potential paleness. The samurai smeared a form of pinkish rouge on his cheeks. This practice is similar in nature to that of the geisha, using a white paste to hide any blemishes – or that of the lower-end prostitutes of the Edo period, who used a kind of white-wash to cover up the marks of disease.
On the battlefield, the samurai wore heavy armor, and it was customary then (as is it with soldiers now) to remove the helmet during a lull in the action. The samurai custom was to remove the helmet in a forward motion, and hold it in front of the face until any smudges or blemishes in the make-up could be fixed or removed. A warrior had a duty to his daimyo, after all. One’s face had to be reddish, as if angry or flushed with the action of the battle, and the unprotected face was not shown until it was suitable.
What remains of this custom can still be seen in kendo schools today. Customarily, the men (the kendo helmet) is removed with a forward motion, and held directly in front of the face. Then, with the men still held there, the kendoka removes his tenugui (a towel worn under the men) and wipes the sweat from his brow and from the inside of the men. Only after this action is satisfactorily performed can the men be lowered, to show the face.
Another, more expensive, solution was to purchase armor that had a red-lacquered interior. The highly polished red lacquer shined on the face of the wearer and gave him a rosy appearance. Without the red lacquer, metal armor took on a green patina with time and use, and left a dangerously pale look to the face.
This practice is also still seen in kendo today. The mengane (the metal frame around the face part of the helmet) is customarily painted with a high-gloss red lacquer or enamel.
For me, it’s fascinating to note that such a warlike people as the samurai could be so vain at the same time. But I’ve also come to expect certain things in my pursuit of an understanding of them. Virtually every aspect of Japanese life – not just for the samurai, but for everyone in Japan – was dictated by tradition, propriety, and military courtesy. Nothing was done without its proscribed method, and that method always had a particular purpose. When I came across the tradition of the kendoka removing the men in a certain way and decided to look into it, I knew I would find some centuries-old military tradition behind it.
I just never expected pink-faced, rouge-wearing warriors.
No comments:
Post a Comment