The Untold History of Modern Japan and Japanese Martial Arts 知らない近代日本史及武道史
Author: Lance Gatling ガトリング•ランス
Resident in Japan ~ 35 years. 35年間日本住人
40 years Asian studies. 40年間アジア研究
Japanese speaker and reader. 日本語話者°読者
Former US Army political-military affairs officer and State Department Foreign Service officer. 元米軍東アジア地域担当官軍事政治事及米国務省外交官
Certified jūdō instructor, All Japan Judo Federation. 全日本柔道連盟指導者
Director, US Embassy Jūdō and Jūjutsu 米大使館柔道場長 www.facebook.com/usejc
Nihon Jujutsu® instructor 日本柔術指導者
Director, Tokyo Judo Federation, the largest in Japan. 東京都柔道連盟役員
Advisor, Int'l Martial Arts Federation www.imaf.com 国際武道院国際顧問
Ranked in Shintō Musō ryū jōdō, Hapkidō, Takeuchi ryu jūjutsu. Studied other arts. 神道無双流杖道及韓国合気道有段者°備中伝竹内流柔術等術者
Efforts to ascribe philosophical meaning to various martial arts seem perennial, but documents supporting origin claims are often transparently contrived or unsupported. Notable exceptions are China’s Shaolin kung fu, developed centuries ago and still taught at the Chan (Japanese: Zen) Buddhist Shaolin temple in China, and Japan’s Shorinji Kempō, developed to popularize the school’s Zen practice. Many koryū (ancient Japanese martial arts) claim unique philosophies but cite tales of inspiration by intense, training-inspired visions or even visitations by tengu (long-nosed goblins). But the genuine philosophical roots of one modern Japanese martial art practiced worldwide were misunderstood, overlooked, then finally lost to history. That art is jūdō, a modernized version of jūjutsu, the ancient samurai martial art of fighting barehanded.
Although Kanō spoke about his jūdō philosophies frequently in Japanese and occasionally in English for decades, he never disclosed their origins, and their exact meaning escaped jūdōka for nearly 100 years. While his writings were clearly influenced by ancient Eastern philosophy more than 2,200 years old, this paper, adopted from the forthcoming manuscript The Kanō Chronicles: The Untold History of Modern Japan,® will show how the core of his philosophy came from 19th century English philosophers.
The evolution of the jūdō keikogi (practice clothing) is one of the many minor mysteries of the history of judo. Many details in jūdō history of interest to some today simply were not recorded in any evident form available today, surely for a variety of reasons, including the likelihood that no one thought that many events were actually noteworthy. The evolution of the keikogi is simply another detail of history that changed, evolving over time, and at the times it changed, no one thought it important enough to record those changes in detail.
When Kanô shihan (master) started his jûjutsu practice (yes, jûjutsu, not jûdô) we know everyone wore street clothes. Over 30 years later he said that he noticed great differences in the quality of the clothes, as his students included very wealthy aristocratic children, the scions of noble Imperial court members, former samurai of various means, as well as poor street urchin / houseboys, a number of which he alone supported with room, board and an education. He wrote that he took note of the large differences in quality and condition of the clothing of the commoners versus the aristocrats. In order to ‘level the playing field’ so to speak, he had everyone change into early versions of the keikogi – the date was unspecified, but was apparently in the early to mid 1880s, as he wrote about it in the late 1880s.
The origin of those earliest keikogi is almost certainly a type of kimono undergarment – likely the 襦袢 juban or 半襦袢 han juban. Today the various types juban are typically made of very light, fine material, particularly for summer use, as they are under layers of heavier cloth. Fine silk or cotton / synthetic blend cloth juban worn under kimono could never stand up long in jūdō keiko practice, but in the 1880s, daily use juban, particularly of commoners of modest means, were simple, sturdy cotton. Some 20 years later in the last days of the 19th century, Kanō shihan describes the final, premodern keikogi jacket as 白木綿 筒袖 袷襦袢 – white cotton, tight sleeved, lined juban – modified with triple layers of cloth above the waist, sleeves extending so far beyond elbows, longer coat tail to reach mid thigh, gathered in the front and held by an obi like a standard juban, etc., etc. He describes the pants as 白木綿 下穿 – white cotton ‘underpants’ – a term used more widely today to include exercise pants, etc.
Many such clothes were probably at least semi-custom made in the day, anyhow, so buying something incorporating the triple layer fabric and narrow, long sleeves Kanō specified was likely pretty simple. But some time early on, it seems likely that some enterprising tailor realized that thick, woven white cotton material was more suitable for tough outer wear and would be easier to assemble than three layers of standard material (and his customers would stop complaining about getting their keikogi ripped apart). Such thick, woven or even padded cotton material is commonly used in happi 半纏 short outer coats, famously used in matsuri festivals today, and winter hanten 法被 long outer coats. (This would seem to be a natural evolution for any half clever tailor, but the vague similarity between a modern keikogi top and a happi coat has made speculation about a relationship between them a popular pass time over the years. Kanō, a noted clotheshorse given to wearing rather fancy Western and Japanese clothes, certainly knew the difference between a juban and a happi, so I’m happy to accept his description of a modified juban as the basis of the keikogi.)
(Some Westerners call this ‘kimono underwear’, which it is, in a way, but I’d point out that casual seminudity was an aspect of life in the lower Japanese social classes, public baths and manual occupations that scandalized Western visitors well into the 20th century. So, I prefer ‘foundation garment’ as there was no apparent shame in men being seen dressed in such indoors, while at practice, while porters, laborers and jinrikisha men of the day might wear nothing but fundoshi loincloths or even less. Women and their modesty are a very different matter, and really didn’t become an issue until the 20th century when Kanō ended his secret lessons for women and began teaching them openly.)
After nearly two decades of experience he (mostly like both Kanō and his teaching staff) realized that longer sleeves and pants legs would better protect practitioners’ knees and elbows from abrasion from the rush straw tatatmi (mats) they had standardized as a floor covering. The longer sleeves and pants legs were probably being used experimentally starting in the 1890s; their use became mandatory around 1906. The change was probably enacted over time as students wore out their old ones, which also helps make the precise date of the adoption of the change vague. In 1909 Kanō wrote at length about the development of his notions of the keikogi, noting that in the old days of jūjutsu that competitors sometimes fought near naked, but that modern modesty and health, along with practical safety considerations, made traditional clothing and even the wide varieties of modern Western clothing less practical for instruction of jūdō.
Also there was always a lot of variation in keikogi until recent competition driven detailed rules – as late as the 1930s jūdō instruction books often included patterns for homemade keikogi, and even instruction methods that did not require keikogi.
Frankly, what’s always been more interesting to me than the keikogi is the origin of the modern obi – as the original belts were thin, single layer cloth strips tied in a bowtie – look closely at photos of Kanō shihan and Mifune sensei. And I can’t find any evidence, but think it was an invention of clothing makers postwar, upselling judoka with fancy, thick and even embroidered belts.
Here’s a very rare writing by Kanō shihan. I just made a simple translation; the text is very indirect and complex. The below is simply a truncated paraphrasing.
It’s a very short essay, really just a list in a small, obscure Showa era book not noted by Kanō biographers. The book was only printed in a small batch in a first edition, and by the time the second edition came out, the book had been completely reworked and this essay was replaced by a much longer essay by Kanō shihan and this disappeared from public view.
The ‘practicing’ is 修行 shugyō, which the excellent wwwjisho.org defines as:
1. ascetic practices (Buddhist term)
2. training; practice; discipline; study Wikipedia definition 3. Sādhanā (Sanskrit साधन,Tib. སྒྲུབ་ཐབས་, druptap; Wyl. sgrub thabs) literally “a means of accomplishing something” is ego-transcending spiritual practice. It includes a variety of disciplines in Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist and Muslim traditions that are followed in order to achieve various spiritual or ritual objectives.
柔道十二訓 Jūdō’s 12 Precepts – Kanō Jigorō
Jūdō practice as Budō
1. Practice kata and randori as carefully as if your opponent is armed with a live sword.
2. Do not forget that the objective of jūdō study is to improve every day, not to win or lose.
3. Jūdō practice is not limited to the dojo.
Jūdō practice as Physical Exercise
4. Avoid dangerous techniques and optimize your exercise to train your body.
5. Do not neglect proper food, sleep and rest.
6. Exercise correctly, not carelessly, in accordance with proper principles.
Jūdō practice as Spiritual Training
7. Conduct kata and randori with your best effort.
8. Endeavor to practice not only with your powers of judgement, but also with your powers of intuition.
9. It is necessary to consider others’ reactions to you in your self-reflection.
Jūdō principles applied to Daily Life as practice
10. In the basics of your daily life, bear in mind the principle of Seiryoku Zenyō Jita Kyōei.
11. When faced with occasional inconsistencies in your teachings, keep in mind the principle of Seiryoku Zenyō Jita Kyōei.
12. When faced with many pressures, even the daily necessities of life in mind, one by one consider your problems, keeping in mind the principle of Seiryoku Zenyō Jita Kyōei.
One episode of Kanō shihan’s life not generally appreciated by jūdōka is his extended effort to educate Chinese students. This effort saw him undertake a Meiji government sponsored months’ long, thousands of kilometers official trip through Q’ing dynasty China in which he met mandarins, had secret conversations with overlords, visited the tomb of the founder of orthodox neo-Confucianism, contacted future revolutionaries, and dodged pirates.
Beginning with a small private juku in a rented facility Kanō developed a purpose built school that inducted almost 8,000 Chinese over years, hundreds enrolled at any given time. He changed its name from 亦楽書院, a name derived from an ancient Confucian classic text, then again changed the kanji for the new name after inadvertently violating an obscure ancient naming taboo seen as an insult by traditional Chinese. Today in Japanese we know it as the 弘文学院 Kōbun Gakuin, in Chinese history it is known as the Hongwen Academy.
It was essentially a preparatory school, primarily intended to bring the diverse group of polyglot Chinese students to an acceptable level of comprehension and communications in spoken and written Japanese and other topics so the students could later enroll in regular advanced education in a number of Japanese higher education institutes, including Kanō’s own 東京高等師範学校 Tōkyō Kōtō Shihan Gakkō Tokyo Higher Normal School, where they would study to become the new teaching cadre that backwards China so desperately needed to modernize its education system.
In doing so, almost inadvertently the school became one of the foremost working laboratories of teaching Japanese. In mid-Meiji, the school developed a Japanese language training program which it published; the book and its training program was so well regarded that it stayed in print for over thirty years.
The school remained in operation for years until political propaganda fostered by Europeans and Americans fueled anti-Japanese sentiment to the point that enrollment fell off sharply. Kanō, who lived on the school compound in a large house built with Chinese government funds, acquired the huge plot of land years after the school closed and lived there until his death in 1938, when his eldest surviving son and future Kodokan president Kanō Risei inherited it.
In the years of the Kōbun Gakuin, Kanō met key Chinese political figures, future actors including men who became founders and leaders of all three rival Chinese governments vying for power in World War II and the subsequent Civil War, and contributing to the deaths of tens of millions of Chinese, and teachers and businessmen desperately trying to bolster the faltering China. Some stayed in touch with Kanō for decades afterwards.
The students included future Communists, Nationalists, collaborators, political leaders, soldiers, artists, authors, and even Mao’s father in law. They included: 陈天华、黄兴、李待琛、杨度、胡汉民、牛保才、杨昌济、张澜、朱剑凡、胡元倓、李琴湘、方鼎英、许寿裳、鲁迅、沈心工、陈幼云、陈师曾、陈寅恪、劉勳麟、鲍贵藻, 李四光、侯鸿鉴、郑菊如、李书城、林伯渠、邓以蛰、趙戴文、and 程鴻書.
Kanō provided a forward to the language training text book, which he wrote in kanbun, the ancient Sino-Japanese writing style that would be understandable by most educated Chinese despite their different spoken dialects of Chinese.
Recently there is a Chinese cultural movement.
These new scholars.
Skilled in our Japanese language and grammar.
And Japanese is actually getting more and more important every day for Chinese scholars。
However, educational books.
I have not seen good ones.
I regard that as regrettable.
The study of speech and writing.
As easily as possible.
But what else?
Our Kōbun Gakuin.
Educated Chinese students for many years.
Our national language professors.
Studied how for a long time.
Men of considerable achievements.
As a result, Professor Matsumoto* compiled this Japanese language book.
Various professors supported it.
Its colloquial use cases are established first.
And is published with.
Grammar and a reader, etc.
It is complete.
Finally the day of its release!
We welcome this book!
And its teaching material for Japanese and Japanese literature.
It is almost ready.
Is thus made for Chinese.
Teaching of our Japanese to typical foreigners.
Nor is it for this reason.
The benefit of this book.
is not small, after all.
April Meiji 39 (1906)
Kōbun Gakuin head Kanō Jigorô
– translation copyright 2020 by Lance Gatling
* Matsumoto was Kanō’s vice principal
** The first name of the school was 弘文学院 Kōbun Gakuin later changed to 宏文学院 which is also pronounced Kōbun Gakuin in Japanese; not accidentally both are pronounced Hongwen Xuéyuàn in Mandarin, usually rendered as Hongwen Academy in English. We will explore the naming taboo that the original name violated.
Hat tip to Geoff Newman for his translation suggestions! 谢谢！
The primary purpose of the strategy was how to deal with people. In the extended commentary it is clearly about his to deal with subordinates first. The extension is now to deal with non-subordinates, including enemies.
As one of the Seven Military Classics, this work has been studied for over 2000 years as one of the most important schools of strategic thought.
Regarding its use in describing jūdō, apparently Kanō shihan thought it was insufficient to capture his vision; therefore, he developed his own explanation of the basic principles of jūdō that went through various versions, but eventually he settled on:
The origin of Kanō’s principle is much more complex, a long tale that will be explored in the full version of The Kanō Chronicles® http://www.kanochronicles.com
 Japanese and Chinese use thousands of four character ideograms called yojijukugo in Japanese. These are used as in a wide array of situations from sayings to mnemonics to short hand for long stories or legends. Many are thousands of years old.
 柔能制剛 Jū nō sei gō is Chinese. It is rendered in Japanese as 柔よく制剛 jū yoku sei gō the quality of flexibility / softness controls hardness / softness
 The author contends that the typical translation of jū into English as ‘softness’ is neither correct nor appropriate in historical context and for the purposes of understanding jūjtsu or jūdō.
” San Lüe 三略 (Three Strategies) is divided into three parts: Shang Lüe 上略, Zhong Lüe 中略, and Xia Lüe 下略. The first two parts quote from military writings of the past, Jun Chen 軍讖 (Military Prophecies) and Jun Shi 軍勢 (Military Power) and elaborates them, while the third part is the author’s own discussion. Some attribute the work to Huang Shigong 黃石公, but in recent research, it is said that this book was written by an anonymous person between the Qin dynasty (221–206 BC) and Han dynasty (206 BC–220 AD). ”
The Governing Principles of Ancient China, Volume 2 – Based on 360 passages excerpted from the original compilation of Qunshu Zhiyao (The Compilation of Books and Writings on the Important Governing Principles), pg 508. Seri Kembangan, Malaysia: Chung Hua Cultural Education Centre, 2014.
The entire work’s name in English is usually rendered as the The Three Strategies of Huang Shigong.
The Shang Lüe 上略, Zhong Lüe 中略, and Xia Lüe 下略 are respectively the Upper Strategy, the Middle Strategy, and the Lower Strategy.
The exact date of the Military Prophecies seems unknown but appears to be around 2400 years old.
Among the many locations of the Kodokan in its early days (1882-1900) was one that Kanō shihan (master) explains in some detail: the Fujimi-chō dōjō (literally, ‘place of the way’, originally a Buddhism term denoting a place of austere study, adopted by Japanese martial arts to indicate a place of practice and austere study).
In his early 20s, from the early to mid 1880s, Kanō became acquainted with key Chōshū samurai who variously fought with or led Chōshū military units fighting in the Satsuma – Chōshū led coup that seized control of Japan in what is termed the Meiji Restoration. This long series of events led to Kanō’s relationship with a young Chōshū samurai named Murata Genzō, who studied English under Kanō. (Satsuma and Chōshū were only two of the around 260 han domains of old Japan, but two of the most powerful and most in tension with the bakufu. Sited in today’s Kagoshima and Yamaguchi prefectures respectively, these powerful han existed about as far as you could get from Tokyo and still be part of the country, and were jealous and suspicious of the Tokugawa bakufu military dictatorship / administration and protective of their own prerogatives. In alliance with lesser allies the senior samurai of these two han led the Restoration, the overthrow of the over 260 year old Tokugawa regime and the establishment of a new government with the Emperor as its titular leader, advised, of course, by his new Imperial supporters.)
Murata told Kanō that he wanted to travel and study overseas but could not afford to do so. Through Murata, Kanō met Viscount Shinagawa Yajirō (1843-1900), a senior Chōshū samurai colleague of Murata and one of the rising stars in the new Meiji government. Kanō consulted with Shinagawa and Shinagawa’s own senior colleague and patron, then Count (but later designated a non-hereditary Prince under the new Meiji peerage system) Yamagata Aritomo about how they could support Murata. In the end, Yamagata asked the young Kanō to lead a private subscription drive to support Murata. Kanō agreed and eventually successfully collected enough money from other senior Chōshū samurai and his own merchant commoner friends to underwrite Murata’s subsequent overseas study trip.
Shinagawa was born a low level samurai in the Hagi sub clan of the Chōshū han in today’s Hagi City, Yamagata Prefecture. As a young man Shinagawa and many of the other key Chōshū men of the new government studied at the Shōka Sonjuku (literally: Under the Pines / Village Academy) private academy of famed anti-bakufu warrior-scholar samurai Yoshida Shōin (1830-1859).
For fomenting rebellion and participating in assassination plots the firebrand Yoshida was one of many bakufu enemies rounded up, imprisoned, tried, convicted, and executed during the Ansei Purge, a last gasp attempt of the bakufu to control the rising tide of sedition fomented by Imperial extremists. Yoshida was condemned to death as a common criminal because he had intentionally defied his superiors by leaving his han without permission and was removed from the samurai class in punishment. As a commoner, much to the disgust of his students and supporters Yoshida was not allowed to commit seppuku, the traditional honorable self-disembowelment ritual suicide of the samurai class, but rather was beheaded by a samurai executioner on the Kozukappara execution grounds in Edō, the site of tens of thousands of executions.
The story of Yoshida’s Meiji era rehabilitation from attempted assassin and executed criminal to ultranationalist martyr is long and involves many of Kanō’s acquaintances and colleagues, but must wait for another time.
Shinagawa, along with many of his fellow students of Yoshida, became an active participant in the son’ō jōi (an Imperialist battle cry translated as ‘Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians!’) movement which sought to replace the bakufu under the pretense of ‘restoring’ the Emperor to his rightful place of active command (of course, supported by the right advisors – themselves) and repelling all encroachments by foreign powers. He followed a typical path for many of his coup contemporaries, first as an activist discussing and arguing, then participating in covert operations as an arsonist cum assassin. In the start of the Restoration war, Shinagawa commanded a commoner militia unit during the historically significant yet tactically minor street battle of the Kinmon Incident in Kyoto. These street battles in the ancient Imperial capital between Imperialists intent to destroy the bakufu versus a mixed bag of bakufu loyalist han clan forces and cutthroat mercenaries lit a firestorm that led to battles throughout Japan. In the conventional battles that followed, Shinagawa became a staff officer in the expanded Chōshū commoner military units drilled in modern fashion; these units outperformed the traditional samurai battle formations of the more traditional Tokugawa loyalist han.
In 1870 after the Meiji Restoration Shinagawa was dispatched abroad as an observer of the Franco-Prussian War, one of the first involving many modern weapons, mass mobilizations, and professional armies. Then he remained in Europe, studying in London, France and Germany before returning to the new capital of Tokyo, where he used his new knowledge in several positions of increasing responsibility in the Meiji government.
In 1886 he was appointed ambassador plenipotentiary to become the new nation of Japan’s envoy to the new nation of Germany. Before he left for his extended overseas assignment, knowing that the 25 year old bachelor Kanō’s juku private academy at Eishoji in Ueno was almost 7 kilometers away from his dojo in nearby Kami Nibanchō, Shinagawa proposed that Kanō act as caretaker for his new house, a quasi-Western style structure in Fujimi-chō near Kami Nibanchō. As Shinagawa didn’t want to rent the prestigious house to a stranger he offered its use to Kanō for free, even offering to let Kanō live there along with his handful of resident jukusei academy students, which would bring Kano’s extracurricular activities and residence much closer to his duty position at the Gakushūin Peer’s School. But according to Kanō near 30 years later he declined what he construed to be a gratuity.
After some discussion, the face saving solution was that Shinagawa agreed for Kanō to pay the same rent for Shinagawa’s entire spacious house and estate of over 4000 square meters (over 2400 tatami) that Kanō paid Eishoji for a study room / dojo of only 12 tatami (about 18.5 square meters), a transparently symbolic payment given the difference in the value of the house. In February 1886 Kanō moved to Fujimicho along with his live-in shusei houseboy students and jukusei academy students.
According to his recollections, Kanō initially had reservations about the arrangement but apparently grew to appreciate his new accommodations. He soon made arrangements for the new 40 mat Kodokan dojo (incidentally the exact size of the author’s dojo at the US Embassy Tokyo http://www.facebook.com/usejc) he had built earlier in Kami Nibanchō about 2 kilometers away to be dismantled and reassembled in the garden of the Fujimichō compound.
The house also boasted a modern kitchen (and we will see later that young master Kanō certainly liked to eat, so that was important!), and was much more accessible and in a far more prestigious location in central Tokyo than an ancient Buddhist temple sited with scores others on the fringes of Ueno. Finally, Fujimichō was also 4 kilometers closer than Eishoji to the Gakushūin, the Peer’s School where Kanō served as the Imperial appointed vice principal as a member of the Imperial Household Agency. These factors almost certainly contributed to the success of the Kanō juku and the Kodokan, along with Kanō’s hard work, as the number of students in both increased. Kanō later also claimed that during these three years at Fujimi-chō he and his key instructors resolved many of the technical fundamentals of judo; decades later Kanō would claim that by 1889 judo was fully established in its final form (we will examine this claim in other segments).
But beyond its convenience, this was an unusual neighborhood.
For one, Shinagawa’s mansion was next door to that of his primary patron, war colleague, fellow Chōshū samurai, and fellow Shōka Sonjuku student Count (later Prince) Yamagata Aritomo (1838-1922). Both men were born into low level samurai families – the older Yamagata was the son of an ashigaru foot soldier, the lowest rank of samurai – but rose in prominence during the war and through their bureaucratic capabilities afterward (and longevity as many of their elder Chōshū superiors in the new Meiji government died after the Restoration). Both warriors knew Kanō before he moved to Fujimi-chō through mutual acquaintances like Murata, and some of the Chōshū former samurai were sending their children to the elite Gakushuin. Both men had trained in kenjutsu and jūjujtsu as a matter of course as samurai, so they basically knew what Kanō was doing; Yamagata was a Kodokan supporter throughout his long life. Also, Yamagata’s wife was the eldest daughter of Dr. Kato Hiroyuki, President of Tokyo University and a close colleague of Kanō’s from his earliest student days at Tokyo University; the educators continued a close professional and personal relationship for decades as they became two of the most senior members of the Ministry of Education and provided key leadership for an array of educational organizations.
When Kanō moved to Fujimi-chō in 1886, his next door neighbor Count Yamagata was an active duty Imperial Army Lieutenant General in the early days of his long position as Home Minister from 1885 to 1890 (he also served as such several years more in a later cabinet). In the powerful position as Minister of the Naimushō Home Ministry he controlled the nation’s entire police operations and training (including martial arts), the assignment of metropolitan and prefectural governors, oversight of local administration, management of public works and government lands, organizing and executing elections, and the collection of information on and monitoring of the people through police and other intelligence networks. Through his personal connections in the government and the Imperial court Yamagata inserted himself in an even wider array of issues facing the new government, including ethics and moral education for students, an interest he shared with the young Kanō.
By outmaneuvering (and outliving) his political opponents eventually Yamagata became undisputed the most powerful man in the country for decades. He was an Imperial Army Field Marshal, would become the key Chōshū figure in the Satsuma-Chōshū alliance that for decades controlled the highest Imperial Army and Navy general officer assignments, served as Japan’s first three times Prime Minister, and headed the Emperor’s influential Privy Council for an unprecedented 17 years. Throughout he remained a deadly enemy of uncontrolled democracy and party politics until his death. In a word, Yamagata became Japan’s kingmaker, the power broker behind the throne, particularly as the Imperial Army held much more influence over domestic affairs than did the Navy. Many parallels have been drawn between Yamagata and Germany’s Bismark.
Another unusual feature of the address was that both mansions were literally adjacent to the Imperial Palace. Shinagawa’s house was in Fujimi-chō 1chōme Ichibanchi, Kōjimachi-ku, which was then one of Tokyo’s only 15 ku wards. (After multiple changes, today Tokyo has 23 wards; the old Kōjimachi-ku was eliminated and Fujimi-chō was absorbed into the new Chiyoda-ku. ‘Fujimi-chō’ means ‘Fuji view block’; even today there are other Tokyo area neighborhoods with views of Mount Fuji with similar names.) Today the address of Yamagata’s house is Kudan Minami 2-chome 2-11 Chiyoda-ku, the Indian Embassy chancellery.
But what else made this neighborhood unique?
In 1657 a fire flamed out of control by the winds of an oncoming typhoon burned up to 60-70% of the entire city of Edō. The conflagration even jumped the moats to damage Edo castle itself, so in the aftermath the bakufu enacted new fire prevention rules. One effect was that the daimyo estates and other facilities built adjacent to the Palace moats were forced to retreat to provide protective fire breaks called hiyokechi 火除地 ‘fire prevention lands’ under direct bakufu control. These firebreaks were sometimes fenced off, usually bare parade grounds used for entertainment and ceremonies such as parades, fireworks and kite flying. Structures or tall vegetation were strictly banned.
NOTE: While the term hiyokechi today is an anachronism, another fire fighting measure’s name survives in place names today. Hirokōji ‘wide streets’ were broad avenues carved through congested urban areas to link up vital points with strict easement rules to control encroachment on the avenue / fire break and to facilitate official and fire fighting traffic in an emergency.
Perhaps pulling strings with their comrades in their new government, as all bakufu and daimyo lands reverted to the new Imperial Meiji government after Restoration, including Tokyo’s hiyokechi and hirokōji, Shinagawa’s and Yamagata’s new estates were built hiyokechi fire break land along the Imperial Palace Chidorigafuchi moat, between Hanzon-mon (‘Hanzo’s gate’, named after the ninja master retainer of Tokugawa Ieyasu tasked to provide the guard force for that gate) and Tayasu-mon the northernmost palace gate near today’s Kita no Maru park and Yasukuni Shrine. (Shinagawa’s house was where the Indian Embassy stands today. The large empty lot to the south was Shinagawa’s garden.) Yamagata died in 1922 and his residence burned in the 1923 Great Kanto Earthquake. It was restored later only to burn again in a WWII fire raid. Today only the garden remains, the house replaced by a mixed modern and traditional style multifunction government meeting hall.
The next estate south along the former hiyokechi on the grounds of today’s Chidorigafuchi National Cemetery 千鳥ヶ淵戦没者墓地 was that of Prince Kanin Haruhiro (1865 – 1945), eventually the highest ranking military member of the Imperial families. Only then in his early 20s living in the large estate he would eventually will to his eldest son, he was 5 years younger than Kanō. Prince Kanin eventually rose through the officer ranks to become an Imperial Army Field Marshal and long serving Army Chief of Staff.
Kanō’s activities at Shinagawa’s house and the nearby Fujimi-chō dojo did not go unnoticed by neighbors and passersby. Viscount Shinagawa was a key Chōshū civilian member of the powerful Satsuma Chōshū alliance that essentially controlled the Meiji government and military. He himself was an up and coming political protege of the powerful Home Minister General Yamagata, who decided to make the move from military service to politics and depended upon the advice of the much more politically astute Shinagawa. Both men were not only military heroes of the Restoration (and Yamagata the hero of the Seinan War, commander of the field forces that hunted down and destroyed Saigō Takamori’s rebel army), both were arch conservative Imperialists and staunch opponents of party politics when politics was often a full contact sport. Kanō’s odd practice of jūjutsu – as even Kanō termed judo at the time – was growing at a time when most martial arts in Japan were greatly scattered and very sparsely attended. His jukusei academy students numbered up to 60 during the Fujimichō period; each boy was required to practice judo daily, and they were joined by outside judo students after their own academic school or work. These included the famous Hirose Takeō, who at the time was a student at the Naval Academy, which was still in Tokyo at Tsukiji before its move to Etajima. Coupled with the rough nature of some of Kanō’s shusei houseboy students and the extracurricular hobby of some to practice their jūjutsu against entertainment district thugs and drunks, these strange antics caused some of the locals to wonder if Kanō was in fact training political muscle for the new Chōshū oligarchs, who were famously not adverse to extreme political violence.
After a year or so in Berlin Shinagawa fell ill and spent some time convalescing there; because he did not recover fully he was recalled in 1887. Arriving he was bemused to find the 27 year old Kanō living with around 30 student boarders in his house, with around another 30 boarding at a nearby house Kanō rented. These students ranged from the sons of rich kazoku nobility who wanted to provide their offspring with the best possible preparation to pass the all-important Gakushuin entrance exams to the Peers’ School where Kanō was the vice principal to near homeless street urchin shusei live-in houseboy students who traded their labor and performed errands around the house and dojo at Kanō’s bidding for room, board, education, and judo. Always judo. Judo for everyone.
Kanō very careful recorded the name, date of entry, and the social class of every single Kodokan student in notebooks on display in the Kodokan museum today. In the first five students in 1882 he noted two kazoku brothers named Arima. Kanō set up his juku specifically at the request of kazoku families to prepare their sons for those exams; presumably because he would know what to expect on the entrance exams, he could prepare them. As a result he was entrusted with the education of some of the cream of Japanese society. Preparing for all important entrance examinations by studying in juku ‘cram schools’ became a practice that continues in Japan today as cram school teachers, often public school teachers working part-time, teach the tests in evening classes.
Shinagawa did not move back into his now crowded house with the dojo in the garden. Instead he had a new residence built on another large estate, the former Edō residence of a middle level daimyo in Dangōzaka, Sendagi, Bunkyo-ku, which he sold to a businessman named Sudo in 1889; while the Dangozaka estate was divided up over the intervening 120 years into numerous blocks of residential plots, the Shinagawa estate garden remains today as Bunkyo-ku’s Sudo Park. (Apparently being on the winning side of the Restoration coup was good business for a young budding Chōshū oligarch, as that estate was over 3300 square meters, around 8 acres, of prime land. Today the park is covered by massive ancient camphor trees and a pond of crawfish angled out on spring days by locals.)
Kanō moved the Kodokan in the spring of 1889, first briefly to Hongo Masago-cho, near the University of Tokyo, renting an unused Army warehouse in a deal facilitated by Shinagawa, then back to Kami Niban-cho near today’s Hanzomon Station. In the early days Kanō usually lived near or co-located with the Kodokan; more than once it was in his backyard until he built his large final family home further out from downtown Tokyo (a story for later).
After convalescing for another year or so after returning to Japan, Shinagawa recovered enough to begin a series of assignments as an advisor to the Privy Council and to the Emperor. In 1891 he became the powerful Home Minister in the cabinet of Prime Minister Matsukata Masayoshi, a Satsuma samurai and another Kanō acquaintance.
Around then Kanō found himself at odds with the president of the Gakushūin and, rather than be fired outright, managed to get himself assigned to study European educational systems for a year on behalf of the Emperor, which he managed to stretch into nearly a year and a half.
After Kanō returned from Europe, Kanō and Shinagawa meet again under strange circumstances. Both are topics for the future. ##
Kanō shihan was not described as an aficionado of the arts, but he owned one piece of art that seems to have captured his imagination: a large pair of traditional Japanese byobu screens depicting five madly galloping, runaway horses. These screens can be seen in years of photographs of the Kodokan, displayed to either side of his ever present (and still displayed) seat and desk at the front of the Dai Dōjō, where they are still displayed today in the new Kodokan Great Dojo.
In 1906 Kanō saw an exhibit by young artist Konoshima Okoku and tried to buy one of his screens on display. Okoku responded that those works on display were not for sale, so Kanō commissioned him to make a remarkable painting—a huge two eight-panel screen set showing five madly galloping horses. The massive 奔馬 Honba ‘Runaway Horses’ screen set became a fixture in the Kōdōkan, displayed in the Dai Dōjō during important events but normally displayed in Kano’s kanchō institute head’s office in the Kodokan.
They can be seen here, in the Dai Dojo of the old Kodokan, during a kagamibiraki New Year ceremony, a tradition still followed today.
Other points of interest in the photo are the name boards and the hanging scroll in the alcove. The box formats correspond to the margin notes.
The set is huge; note how they tower over the seated Kano in the photo above.
Below is a photo of the two screens stacked, fully open flat (they were normally displayed separated left and right, in a partial fold, the normal display method for free standing screens). The top two-horse screen is shown to the left above.
(Image courtesy Oukoku Bunko, Kyoto, Japan, the NPO that owns the museum housing Okoku’s works, former home and workshop.)
The screens were both lost when the Kodokan was partially destroyed during a 1945 firebomb raid (see The Firebombing of the Kodokan 1945 for details) and part of the Dai Dojo and the kancho office burned. A napalm bomblet landed on the Kodokan roof just above the far wall in the photo above and burned through the rood and into the Dai Dojo below.
In a final bit of irony, Kano shihan was noted as a less than expert horseman, apparently having fallen off horses with some regularity, at least once while riding to the Kodokan. While his personal interviews apparently do not mention it, a number of contemporary accounts refer to his mishaps.
There are three major Japanese language biographies of Kano shihan. The largest two were published in 1941 and 1964 by two men – one a judoka and well known biographer, the other a student that Kan – well known to and trusted by Kanō and the Kodokan. Together these two books alone total 1200 pages but even then are only able to cover a portion of Kanō’s complex and influential life. There are around a score of other Japanese biographies of Kanō, but many draw from those three source documents and the late 1920s Sakkô interviews.
Athough he kept an English diary for decades that has been carefully kept from the public, Kano shihan apparently never wrote an autobiography. What he did provide was a long series of interviews with frequent Sakkô contributor / journalist / judoka Ochiai Torahei covering his personal life, his career as an educator and experience as a judoka. This material has been available in Japanese for many years – first published in a series of twenty-four long articles from Jan 1927 to May 1929 in the Kodokan Culture Council monthly magazine Sakkô (‘Arousal’), there have been various extracts and versions reprinted in several postwar collections of Kanō shihan’s writings.
There is an English version of the Sakkô serialized interviews that covers around 200 pages of dense text and is the single best book available in English to date on Kanō shihan’s life. The meticulously translated Judo Memoirs of Jigoro Kano by judoka and long term Japan resident Brian N. Watson is a unique contribution to make judo history accessible in English. Brian’s book is an indispensable reference for any serious judoka and a fascinating read that took years of knowledgeable effort to complete; I recommend it unreservedly.
In the Sakkô memoirs Kanō shihan describes his life, career, and judo in his own words, in his late 60s, after his retirement from the Ministry of Education, and after his Imperial nomination to the Japan’s Upper House, where he won election in 1922 and then sat as the equivalent of a member of the UK House of Lords or as a US Senator until his death in 1938. (Spoiler alert: Kanō shihan’s version of events in certain places is biased towards him, with all that entails. Some very serious judo history researchers have noted there are no independent supporting contemporaneous accountants of some episodes that have since become core to the legends of judo. Cf. the legendary ‘Police judo matches’ of the 1890s, EN1.)
In addition, there are scores if not hundreds of contemporary and later Japanese and foreign language profiles and mini-biographies of Kanō, starting in the late 1890s in magazines, newspapers, academic journals and books.
But unknown to most folks are the works of fiction in which Kano appears.
Perhaps the most intriguing is the novel “The Tale of Meiji Dracula: The Apparition Appears in the Imperial Capital” 『明治ドラキュラ伝: 妖魔, 帝都に現る』 by Kikuchi Hideyuki, published in 2004. Kikuchi was the author of numerous Japanese vampire novels. In this one, set in the 1880s in Meiji Tokyo, a twenty-something Kano teams with his (real world) favorite judo deshi Saigo Shiro and the fictional 17 year old swordmaster Minazuki Daigo to battle Dracula, who appears in Japan to complete a centuries old mission that I leave for the reader to discover.
Interestingly, this novel was translated into English as Dark Wars: The Tale of Meiji Dracula in 2008. (I don’t have a copy; if anyone reads it, I’d welcome more information.)
Next, we’ll look at the fictional version of young Kano Jigoro when he fights not just Dracula but nearly everyone.
EN1: An anonymous scholar acquaintance spent hours looking for evidence of the famous ‘police jujutsu competitions’ and told me he came up empty-handed, which in turn spurred me to look, too. Neither of us uncovered any contemporaneous articles in newspapers of the day, which we thought very strange; such activities by the police were normally very carefully covered by the press. Only 20-30 years later do the tales appear of the great police jujutsu tournament in which the Kodokan judoka were victorious and were hired as police jujutsu its allies, but only from Kano shihan and his supporters.. While it is entirely possible there was such an event, it seems more likely that if it did exist, it was a relatively small affair. Certainly some Kodokan judoka were hired as Tokyo Metropolitan Police jujutsu instructors around that time, but so were instructors from a number of other, different jujutsu schools; the public records of this are clear. The entire affair may be a combination of some (ahem…..) exaggeration on the part of Kanō shihan and his hagiographers and most definitely misunderstanding of the complex relationship of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police with martial arts, particularly kenjutsu (sword) and jujutsu (grappling).
Probably less than 10% of Kanō shihan’s numerous writings have been translated into any Western language, or even extracted or summarized.
His first known articles, on philosophy, were published in the mid-1880s while Kanō shihan was in his 20s. Over 50 years he contributed scores of articles to multiple publications on topics ranging from physical education, ethics, education, the Olympics, international geopolitics, China, politics, physical and moral courage, death, his incessant theme of 精力善用自他共栄 Seiryoku Zen’yô Jita Kyôei, even a commentary on a poem by the Meiji Emperor, who granted Kanō multiple audiences. Kanō shihan also contributed scores of forwards for the books of friends and acquaintances on topics from kobudô 古武道 to 武士道 bushidô to 神道 Shintô to ethics and morality; in one he admitted he hadn’t even read the book, but supported the author, his personal student.
He lectured widely and at great length – he loved to talk. While many of his impromptu lectures went unrecorded, some key lectures were prepared or transcribed. A number of his transcribed speeches must run over 30 minutes. A single question on education policy during an early 1930s Diet Upper House 貴族院 interpellation he posed to the Minister of Education took around 20 minutes; thankfully the Minister’s answer was mercifully terse.
In one private school New Year’s celebration as one of a small number of dignitaries given three minutes to provide short greetings, he ended by apologizing for talking nearly 20 instead, providing a long allegory criticizing the Second Sino-Japanese War. At one formal group dinner in Tokyo he talked for nearly 45 minutes nonstop after drinks and dinner then apologized – he had gone so far over the allotted time he had to leave immediately, and had no time for questions or comments, but instead asked a member of the head table to provide his car so he could depart from Tokyo Station.
The tale of the dinner address made me wonder how many people it put to sleep, as the recollections of his high school students sometimes commented on how long and boring his lectures could be. One European account detailing his address of an International Olympic Committee working dinner leaves no doubt; he started by extolling the advantages of Tokyo as an Olympic Games venue at length then departed on a tangent on judo that went on and on and on. The description of the result is not vague – many of the attending IOC members, many from far lands, late at night, well fed, some tipsy, and most probably at a loss to understand the importance or pertinence of judo, some not understanding English well, simply fell sleep.
And certainly he wrote on judo. He produced stacks of judo lectures, articles, essays, interviews, etc. Often repetitive and nearly formulaic, some include gems of new information and insights.
While traveling, he wrote newsy, factual and analytical letters and sent telegrams on important topics. He gave interviews to print media and live radio programs around the world to support his personal and policy objectives, primarily in English, but apparently a few times in less than fluent French and German.
A member of the International Olympic Committee from 1909 until his death, he corresponded with the leadership and staff in English. Kano shihan primarily wrote in Japanese and English, but occasionally in French and not infrequently in early Meiji in 漢文 kanbun, the ancient Sino-Japanese script of pre-Meiji Japan. His later writing in modern Japanese evolved in style over the decades for multiple reasons, but he was seldom concise and direct in his explorations of anything, much less complex topics.
Kanō most often wrote alone, but he did collaborate with others. One of his frequent collaborators was Watari Shôsaburô, an ethics instructor and kendoka at the Tokyo Higher Normal School where Kano was the principal.
For over 20 years I’ve collected his writings and transcriptions of his addresses, an uncounted total but surely hundreds to date. I suspect there are at least scores more. In the search I’ve found many surprises in the development of his thoughts, the range of his acquaintances, his plans for education, the Olympics (the current topic in Japan), and his true plan for judo. Only infrequently does his own character emerge; he wrote briefly, poignantly of the loss of family members in the Great Kanto Earthquake in 1923 but then noted his gratitude, as his own home was not severely damaged, while so many others had lost so much, some losing everything.
His most striking writing is arguably is one of his last messages, unknown until very recently. It was recently discovered in a friend’s private library, actually delivered after Kanō shihan departed for the 1938 Cairo IOC meeting in February 1938; the missive provides striking new, private insight into the mind of a man obsessed with accomplishing his last critical mission for Japan, securing the 1940 Olympics Games for Tokyo. He departed for Cairo when he was almost 78 and in marginal health from decades of chronic disease. It was a long, arduous trip encircling the planet, one he insisted on taking alone, one that sapped his strength and one from which he would not return alive.
Two major questions regarding his writings remain today –
Did he publish articles under one penname or another? There are a number of articles to topics dear to him that were clearly written under assumed names or clear pennames that read like the work of Kano shihan.
Where are his lost texts? There are at least two instances where Kano shihan very specifically mentions important extended texts he prepared but they were apparently never printed.