Thucydides Roundtable, Book VII: Syracuse Through the Eyes of a Samurai
In practice, Musashi was a past master at screwing up his adversaries’ timing and finding ingenious ways to fluster them. He often showed up late for his duels and is reported to have despatched his most formidable antagonist by wielding not a sword but a long bludgeon that he had whittled from an oar while being ferried to the battle-ground.
…start by making a show of being slow, then suddenly attack strongly. Without allowing him space for breath to recover from the fluctuation of spirit, you must grasp the opportunity to win. Get the feel of this. (transl. Wilson)
This style is perfectly exemplified in Ariston’s “lunchtime” trick (7.39.2 – 7.40.4), which hinges on syncopated rhythm.
In the disastrous night battle at Epipolae, the turning point seems to have been a sudden change in rhythm which unbalanced the Athenians. They got used to an accelerating advance ( . . . the victors immediately pushing on” 7.43.5), and committed themselves to it by forgoing any consolidation (“the Athenians now advanced with less order, wishing to make their way as quickly as possible” 7.43.7). Being brought to a standstill and driven back by the Boeotians was a disorienting change of pace. (“The Athenians now fell into great disorder and perplexity” 7.44.1)
Musashi noted the frequency with which deadlock arises in warfare and suggested antidotes to it.
Letting Go Four Hands is for when you and an opponent are in a deadlock and no progress is being made in the fight. It means that when you think you are going to get into a deadlock, you stop that right away and seize victory by taking advantage of a different approach. (transl. Cleary)
and, more psychologically,
When fighting with enemies, if you get to feeling snarled up and are making no progress, you toss your mood away and think in your heart that you are starting everything new. As you get the rhythm, you discern how to win. (transl. Cleary)
This is what the Athenians needed to do during the climactic naval battle of 7.70-71, in which the two sides seemed evenly matched (in unbearable suspense to the onlookers) and the Syracusan victory did not come until “after the battle had lasted a long while.”
Musashi was not a merciful man. He wrote,
. . . when opponents are demoralized and weakening, you concentrate your force on crushing them . . . In the context of individual martial art too, when your opponent is not as skilled as you are, or when his rhythm is fouled up, or when he starts to back off, it is essential not to let him catch his breath. Mow him right down . . . The most important thing is not to let him recover.
The Syracusans’ resolve to exploit their first naval victory to the fullest (7.56.2) and later their relentless pursuit and annihilation of the fleeing Athenian remnants exemplify this ethos.
In Musashi’s time, schools of swordsmanship had different opinions as to what the warrior’s eyes should chiefly focus on. His adversary’s sword? His adversary’s eyes, or feet? In the Wind Scroll, Musashi says the eyes should focus on “the hearts and minds of the people involved . . . on the state of the opposing troops,” but in a broad vision that takes in “the conditions for battle . . . the strength and weakness of the occasion” so as never to lose sight of the big picture. The speeches of Gylippus and Nicias offer an interesting contrast: Nicias talks about his men, their fate, their virtue. Gylippus addresses the motivations of his troops and their advantages in the battlespace at hand but, notably, he also analyzes the state of mind of the enemy and shares the intelligence he has received about it. (7.66.3 and 7.67.4)
I invite Roundtable readers who have shuddered through Book VII to pick up the Book of Five Rings, with particular attention to the Fire Scroll, and see whether they too find it a surprisingly apt commentary on the Syracusan campaign.
Everything can collapse. Houses, bodies, and enemies collapse when their rhythm becomes deranged. . . when the enemy start to collapse you must pursue him without letting the chance go. (transl. Wilson)
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