Читать книгу The Fighting Spirit of Japan - E. J. Harrison - Страница 8

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No more remarkable object lesson in the futility of mere physique when pitted against “science” could be desired than that afforded by a visit to a first-class judo school. The highest of all such dojo is Kodokan of Tokyo to which I have already referred as the headquarters of Dr. Jigoro Kano’s eclectic system which has gained the widest recognition and the largest number of followers throughout Japan and the West. The Kodokan of my day, since superseded by a far larger structure described in greater detail elsewhere in these pages, was a very handsome Japanese-style building with an imposing central entrance surmounted by a carved wooden arch or canopy. The entire building was of the same material and was erected at a cost of about £1,000 sterling or 10,000 yen at the then current rate of exchange—a ridiculously small sum judged by present-day standards but whose purchasing power in the Meiji era was immeasurably greater. It was situated in the metropolitan ward known as Koishikawa not far from the arsenal, a forty minutes’ tramcar journey from Shimbashi. Although apparently somewhat remote from the centre of the capital it was nevertheless located in a populous student district, while for the rest, a true judo student thinks nothing of spending two or three hours per day in merely travelling to and from the dojo. The interior of the Kodokan is a sort of sahara of straw-coloured mats, a specially strong kind of tatami made to resist as long as possible the incessant shocks from falling bodies to which they are necessarily subjected. The bare statement that there were some 250 of these tatami on the floor space of the Kodokan will not in itself convey a great deal to the average foreign reader; but when it is added that the approximate dimensions of one Japanese mat of this type are 6 ft. long by 3 ft. wide a better idea of the generous area of the place will be forthcoming. A mat of the above description is composed of a toko or bottom, usually made of straw, sewed in eight or nine lines; and of a covering made of rush matting (ryukyu) which is tightly sewn to the bottom in ten or fifteen lines, the thread used for the purpose appearing on the surface as little as possible. In the case of a perfect dojo such as the Kodokan these mats lie upon a flooring which in turn rests upon numerous steel springs which cause the entire floor to give perceptibly in response to the smallest pressure from above. The surface of the mat, though seemingly hard and smooth, is none the less of remarkable elasticity, and although a clumsy fall may result in a broken bone it is astonishing with what force one may be thrown and still rise to renew the encounter absolutely intact. At the same time this result presupposes on the part of the victim some knowledge of how to fall, and no judo pupil is allowed to take part in actual practice on the mat until he has mastered what are called the Breakfalls for which the overall Japanese term is Ukemi. The walls of this, as of all dojo, were of wood and as far as possible sharp angles were avoided, corner-posts being concealed within the walls. Immediately behind the main entrance, which was reserved for Dr. Kano and other members of the teaching staff, Black Belt wearers or yudansha, was a spacious alcove-shaped platform from which Dr. Kano was in the habit of addressing his disciples from time to time. His portrait hung in a corner, and the rule of the school imperatively required that every member of the dojo should, both on entering and leaving the hall, make an obeisance before this portrait by going down on his hands and knees in Japanese fashion and tapping the mats with his forehead. None the less, “tell it not in Gath”, yet in the interests of Truth at this distant date I feel bound to reveal that there were times when this rule was more honoured in the breach than the observance, e.g. on some occasions when all the so-called mudansha or judoka below the Black Belt grade had already gone and the hour waxing late the few remaining Black Belts were in a hurry to “perambulate their calcareous strata”, in other words, walk their chalks, and so instead of making the customary obeisance (rei wo suru, in Japanese) would irreverently exclaim, “Please excuse me, sensei (teacher), for being rude!” (Kore wa shitsurei itashimashita!) or words to that effect and thereupon beat it for home or some other appointment. On either side of this central dais were two smaller platforms, one of which was intended for the use of occasional visitors, foreigners or Japanese, who might wish to watch a display of judo; and the other dedicated to members of the grade entitled to wear the black belt from shodan (first grade) upwards. As a rule a group of experts, with the then director of the dojo, the famous Sakujiro Yokoyama, now alas no more, as the central figure, might daily be seen on this latter elevation, smoking the eternal cigarette and perennially discussing “stunts”. The common herd had to foregather for social intercourse at the other end of the dojo, though for wrestling purposes the matted floor space was free to all. When taxed to its full capacity the then Kodokan would permit a hundred or more couples to practise at a time. The present-day Kodokan of 500 mats can of course accommodate a far larger number. The typical judo costume is made of strong cotton cloth, sleeved and lined. To quote Professor Arima, the author of a standard work on the subject, “it must cover the legs an inch or two below the knees and be so made that its eri (which in Japanese clothes forms the collar and extension) can fit both sides of the body. The sleeves should be an inch or two longer than the elbow and loose enough to admit of the fist in addition to the arms. The garment must be thickly stitched crosswise with white thread, but below the waist it may be stitched obliquely or lengthwise and crosswise. The belt should also consist of cotton cloth, folded five or six times, stitched with white thread in four or six lines, and be long enough to encircle the body twice, leaving sufficient length to fasten in front. The trousers must be loose and need not be lined. They should end about midway between the knee and ankle but may be half that length. They are to be fastened around the waist by means of cords attached to their upper part.”

In some of the smaller dojo of my day many pupils might be seen wearing nether garments scarcely more voluminous than the bathing trunks used by men, but I do not advise the tender-skinned Occidental to follow the example of these young stalwarts whose epidermis seemed impervious to abrasion. I speak feelingly on this subject seeing that I began by wearing this attenuated kind of costume and endured agonies before my knees became inured to the flaying process every time they struck the mats. I well remember that during one winter season they were cut and torn so repeatedly that suppuration set in, and I had to undergo special medical treatment before I could renew my exertions. Later on, however, when I joined the Kodokan, the problem was solved by the adoption of the more sensible style of trousers affected at that school.

The idea underlying the use of some sort of costume in the practice of judo may call for explanation for the benefit of Western boxers and wrestlers who in practice often wear nothing over the upper part of the body. The theory of judo, however, is largely based upon the justifiable assumption that in nine cases out of ten your opponent in a quarrel in real life would be clad in ordinary garments, and with equal justice a large number of the tricks in the repertoire of the art depend for their successful fulfilment upon a grip of the upper garment, although it would be a grave error to suppose that the judoka (exponent of judo) is necessarily at a loss when his antagonist is nude from the waist up. The field of action would to a certain extent be reduced in the latter instance, but on the other hand there is an esoteric branch of the art whose application would actually be facilitated by this very circumstance. As a rule, however, the judo expert is loath to have recourse to the often lethal tricks comprised in the latter category, save in the last extremity, and prefers if possible to put his opponent out of action by means of a throw or bonelock which, if the victim is wise enough to know when he has had enough, rarely leaves him much the worse for wear. The esoteric side of judo will be dealt with more in detail later on.

The only outward distinction of rank at the Kano school lies in the colour of the belt. The lowest classification is the “kyu” meaning “class”. Below the grade of sankyu, which may be freely rendered as third-class, the student wears a simple white belt; from sankyu up to ikkyu, or first-class, the colour changes to brown. Then from shodan, first grade, up to godan, or fifth-grade, a black belt is worn. The word dan in Japanese has the meaning of grade, degree or step, and shodan is the lowest rank in the section above that of kyu already mentioned. From shodan upwards the classification runs numerically, i.e. “second-grade” (nidan), “third-grade” (sandan), “fourth-grade” (yodan), “fifth-grade” (godan), “sixth-grade” (rokudan), “seventh-grade” (shichidan), “eighth-grade” (hachidan), “ninth-grade” (kudan), and highest of all, “tenth-grade” (judan). From sixth-grade up to eighth-grade a red and white belt is worn, and from ninth to tenth-grade an all red belt. But in practice the wearing of these parti-coloured belts is optional and dan-holders are free to wear the all-black belt.

Judoka below the dan classification are called mudansha or non-dan, and dan-holders are called yudansha. I should add that in my day the highest grade ever awarded was the seventh and holders of that grade could then be counted on the fingers of one hand. Understandably the number of judoka tended to increase in inverse proportion to that of the dan-holders. Dr. Kano himself, as the founder of the school, may be said to have stood above even the dan distinction. After him the most celebrated and, in practice, the most formidable of all judo experts of my day was undoubtedly Sakujiro Yokoyama, already mentioned. He held the seventh-grade, or shichidan. The nickname of “demon” (oni) which he bore in his heyday is in itself a reflection of the awe in which he was held by his judo and jujutsu contemporaries. Fairly tall for a Japanese but of medium height for a foreigner, Yokoyama, then a man on the shady side of forty, was seen at a glance to be of unusual muscular development, his neck especially rising from between his broad shoulders like a solid pillar of sinewy flesh. Any attempt by even the strongest untrained man to throttle such an opponent would have been vain indeed.

I had occasion to note during my first visit to the Kodokan that several of the yudansha were hardly more than five feet high—though many were, of course, far taller—but in spite of their inferior stature it was a comparatively simple matter for them to topple over their opponents, however big, with an apparent absence of effort which added to the impressiveness of the demonstration. Dr. Kano himself was then a middle-aged man perhaps 5 ft. 4 in. in height, but with a thickness of neck and a depth of chest which denoted great strength. Very notably his calves were of abnormal thickness. Very strict discipline was observed among the students and during my visit no one ventured to address him without a bow, and the head of the school on his part gave his instructions with military curtness. In those days Dr. Kano still did a certain amount of practice and would have been an ugly customer to tackle in a serious encounter. His name was one to conjure with throughout Japan.

Catch-as-catch-can wrestling, which I had studied in British Columbia before proceeding to California and from there to Japan, is the nearest approach to judo that we have in Europe and America and several of the pure throws are similar in both schools, though in view of the fact that the catch-as-catch-can wrestler is naked save for a pair of jock-straps and pumps, he is by no means so good a subject for holds and grips as a man who is clothed. Again, the object in catch-as-catch-can is to force your opponent’s two shoulders down upon the mat. In judo, though a clean throw of course counts, you are at liberty to try to defeat your opponent by falling voluntarily upon your back or in any other manner, whereas in catch-as-catch-can the man who, voluntarily or otherwise, allows his two shoulders to touch the mat together is defeated. In judo, on the contrary, it may often happen that the man on top is in such pain as to be forced to surrender.

The question is continually being asked by foreigners which is the more effective—judo or boxing? I may say at once that in my opinion the problem can never be satisfactorily solved under the conditions of a friendly contest in which the boxer must wear gloves and the judoka may not avail himself of the more deadly tricks in his repertoire. I may recall in this context that very many years ago, not long after I had taken up the study of judo in one of the ryugi outside the Kodokan, the then well-known middleweight Jack Slavin, former champion of Australia, came to Japan and gave several exhibitions at one of which some of my Japanese wrestling friends and I contributed a display of judo. The presence of the Australian was regarded as a fitting opportunity for an international contest, and arrangements had actually been completed for a meeting between Slavin and a famous Japanese champion named Iizuka, professor of judo at the Keio University, Tokyo, when Slavin suddenly sailed for the Klondyke in response to an invitation from his brother Frank, a prominent heavyweight of those days. Jack Slavin, in a letter to his agent, explained that, as his funds were at zero and an opening had presented itself, he would not have been justified in letting it slip. Personally I believe the excuse was genuine enough, but his sudden departure at such a juncture naturally created a most unfortunate impression in Japanese circles and confirmed the very real belief that Slavin would have been defeated. Since confession is said to be good for the soul I do not mind acknowledging that I too shared that belief and still share it, for Slavin’s prospective opponent Iizuka, albeit not more than 5 ft. 3 or 4 in. in height, was a miniature Hercules in physique and possessed of astonishing skill and agility. I am glad to say that at the moment, Iizuka, now well in his eighth decade, is still alive and well in Tokyo. But even had the contest come off it would have been hampered by the conditions already adverted to and would have satisfied only the winning side. The only logical way of deciding the point would be to put the boxer and the judoka into an open field and there let them fight to a finish with nothing barred. But unfortunately for the final settlement of this much-vexed question, though fortunately for the limitation of international bills of mortality, neither the laws of the civilized East nor those of the West permit what the Japanese call a shinken (literally “real sword”, otherwise a genuine fight to a finish).

Before taking final leave of this much-vexed subject and braving at this eleventh hour the risk of being accused of an indiscretion, I am going to reveal the fact that somewhat irregularly and while holding the modest post of editor of The Japan Advertiser at Yokohama, I acted as an intermediary in arranging contests between an English bluejacket boxer and a Japanese judoka in one case and between an American bluejacket boxer and a Japanese judoka in the other. These contests were separately staged at a Japanese theatre in the Yokohama native quarter and in both instances attracted crowded houses. In the first case the British bluejacket was reputed to be the best boxer among the crew of the cruiser in which he served, and the American bluejacket was the acknowledged boxing champion of the American warship in which he served. The Japanese opponent of the British bluejacket was an exceptionally big and powerful Japanese who, though nominally only a first kyu (ikkyu), was well known to be as good as any contemporary 4th Dan extant, but he had been expelled from the Kodokan for unseemly behaviour beyond its borders and had therefore never been promoted to the ranks of the yudansha. Be that as it may, he was a cheerful and likeable ruffian and by his subsequent performance fully justified my choice by throwing the unfortunate bluejacket all over the place. But in the second instance the tables were turned, and the Japanese ikkyu who tried conclusions with the American naval pugilist, a superb physical specimen of the “killer” type, was so badly battered that before the end of the second round he had to retire to escape a knock-out. But in neither case could the result be deemed decisive seeing that in the first case the British bluejacket, despite his reputation, was clearly only a crude amateur and in the second, the Japanese judo representative was not even a yudansha. Then came an unexpected sequel to all these alarums and excursions when to the consternation of all concerned, with myself in the van, from the heights of the Kodokan Olympus descended the thunderbolt of Dr. Kano’s wrath in the shape of a warning that thereafter any member of the Kodokan found guilty of participating directly or indirectly in further degrading practices of this kind calculated to sully the fair fame of judo would be summarily expelled without benefit of clergy. After that I waited not upon the order of my going but went or retired at once from the scene of action, and so as far as I am concerned the issue is still open and bids fair to remain so unless and until contest rules are relaxed and amended along the lines already foreshadowed.

I once asked Dr. Kano how one of the big wrestlers, or sumotori, would fare at the hands of an expert judoka?

“Well,” he replied, “no doubt the sumotori might be able, under the silly rules of his style of wrestling, to push the judoka out of the ring, but in a real fight an expert judoka ought to be able to kill the sumotori.” Apropos of which there is a Japanese yarn which, se non è vero è ben trovato, tells how once upon a time a judoka and a big sumotori fell into a dispute on this very subject, until finally it was agreed to try conclusions in order to make certain. At the very commencement of the struggle the big man picked the judoka up and holding him high above his head asked triumphantly, “Now where are you?” Apparently not a whit perturbed by this turn of events the judoka answered, “Oh, this is just where judo comes in. The moment you attempt to throw me down I’ll kick you to death!” Terrified out of his wits by this awful threat the fat man, still holding the judoka in the same position, rushed out into the street shouting loudly for help! The sequel is not recorded.

The term judo is not in itself new, but until its adoption by Dr. Kano to designate his system it was by no means so much in vogue as the term jujutsu. Etymologically a single ideograph differentiates jujutsu from judo. As already explained jujutsu means the soft art or art of softness; do means a road or way. In other words, Dr. Kano insisted upon the ethical as well as the purely physical aspect of this system, and, in theory at least, a good moral character is as essential to the promotion of the student of judo as practical efficiency. Dr. Kano perfected his system more than seventy years ago after training under the teachers of the older jujutsu ryugi and thoroughly assimilating the best they had to offer. In the days following the abolition of feudalism a reaction had set in against the martial arts, and when the prominent German physician Dr. Baelz urged upon the faculty of the Imperial University the necessity of improving the sadly deteriorated physique of the students of the day he encountered strenuous opposition. One result of this tendency of the times was that the jujutsu dojo were almost deserted and the starving teachers were only too eager to impart their knowledge to so enthusiastic a disciple as Dr. Kano then was. Thus in the end Dr. Kano was enabled to establish his own school which has retained all that is really valuable from the repertoire of the older ryugi whilst rejecting what the lawyers would call surplusage, adding largely to the list of waza or tricks and classifying the latter in a logical and scientific manner. From modest beginnings the famous Kodokan has grown up into an imposing practice hall with a membership which today runs into hundreds of thousands and is continually growing, while among Dr. Kano’s montei or disciples even in my day were included many of the most prominent military and naval men of Japan, not excepting even princes of the Imperial blood. The young Prince Tokugawa, son of the last of the Shoguns and then head of the house, was a clever exponent of the art personally known to me, with the rank of nidan or second grade. Judo is the system officially recognized, compulsory in my day in all naval and military schools, practised at all Government universities and schools and at nearly all the bigger private educational establishments.

The fee charged for tuition at the old Kodokan was astonishingly small—only thirty sen a month or less than eightpence, in addition to an entrance fee which was not usually less than a yen but which could be increased by those disposed to do so. When the student reached the grade of shodan, the lowest teaching grade, the charge was remitted in return for the help which he was expected to render to lower-grade students. The method of classification was quite simple. Responsibility devolved upon a select number of teachers who carefully watched the form displayed by the pupils in daily practice and in the periodical contests called shobu or shiai, and decided all details relative to individual promotion. The applicant who obtained permission to enter the institution was required to present it with a pair of folding fans and the sum of one yen. And today as then until the student attains the dan grade he is forbidden to make use of certain locks called gyaku which, unless skilfully applied, may result in serious injury to muscles and joints. When the student reaches the dan grade he is gradually initiated into the esoteric branches of the art which include atemi, already referred to as the art of striking and kicking vital spots, and kappo, or methods of resuscitating one who has been rendered unconscious by strangulation or other cause. The non-esoteric branches of judo are called randori in which the pupil freely applies his knowledge in open practice (keiko) with others, and kata, or forms, in which the principal tricks are demonstrated in a prearranged order by two performers. In the kata the prearranged winner in every method is called Tori (literally “taker”) and the loser Uke (literally “receiver”).

In order to inure the pupil to the two extremes of heat and cold and to cultivate the virtue of perseverance, all dojo including the Kodokan hold special summer and winter exercises. For the former the hottest month of the year, August, and the hottest time of the day, from 1 p.m., are chosen; and for the latter commencing in January, the pupils start wrestling at four o’clock in the morning and keep it up until seven or eight. The summer practice is termed shochugeiko and the winter practice kangeiko. There is likewise the “number exercise” on the last day of the winter practice when, as a special test of endurance, the pupils practise from 4 a.m. till 2 p.m. and not infrequently go through as many as a hundred bouts within that interval.

In the periodical competitions the best two out of three falls or other recognized proof of superiority decide the victory, although the umpire, if the contest is unduly prolonged, may announce what is called ippon shobu which means that one fall shall decide the issue. Literally ippon shobu may perhaps be rendered as “one-point contest”. Expert students with exceptional wind often defeat half a dozen or more opponents one after the other and wrestle continuously for an hour or more at a time. More recent modifications of contest rules authorize the umpire, at his discretion, if no point has been scored by either party within the time limit, to award the victory to the contestant who has displayed the more aggressive spirit and initiative.

The two great competitions of the year, held in the spring and autumn respectively, are styled Kohaku Shobu (or Shiai), meaning Red and White Contest, in which the competitors are divided into two teams (red and white), each team having its leader and being arranged according to the degree of skill possessed by the members. Thus the contest will begin with the least proficient and youngest opponents of the lower grades, and each bout is decided by the first fall or point scored instead of the best two out of three for the periodical grading competitions. Ultimately the two best men on either side meet and fight it out. Or it will sometimes happen that one side is so far ahead of the other, owing to a succession of victories won by individual competitors, that towards the end the lower-grade men on the winning side must wrestle with higher-grade men on the losing side. At such moments, not unnaturally, intense excitement prevails, and the adherents of the rival colours freely encourage their champions with cries of “aka” (red) “shiro” (white) respectively, and frequent use of the expression “Shikkari! Shikkari!”—i.e. “Firmly! Firmly!”—something like our “buck up” or “stick to him”, perhaps. At the close of the competition the members of the winning team with their leader (taisho) at their head, enter the roped enclosure and in my day from the hands of Dr. Kano himself would receive the championship flag as concrete evidence of their victory. At one time the Kohaku Shobu began with the very lowest grades, mere children, and finished with sandan or yodan experts; but nowadays, owing to the constantly growing number of entries, the contest begins only with the ikkyu classes. It is quite a common thing for 400 couples to participate in these historic meetings. The names of the competitors were in my day written in large characters on a wide strip of paper which stretched right across the far end of the hall so that they might easily be perused from a distance. Written of course in Japanese each name must be read vertically from top to bottom, and the entire list from left to right, though the customary Japanese order in books and newspapers is from right to left. Thus, whereas a corresponding list of names in English would take the form of two or more perpendicular rows, the names of each row being written horizontally, in Japanese the separate rows, for red and white contestants, are horizontal, one colour above the other, while the names of members of both teams form perpendicular lines. Nominally each name in the upper row is supposed to appear immediately opposite the name of a prospective antagonist in the lower row, but as a matter of fact, this original order can rarely be preserved; and it was curious in my day to trace the fluctuating fortunes of war on either side by means of the red lines which an assistant, seated high enough to have an unobstructed view of the contests, described with a brush after each bout. Two or more red lines radiating from a name in the upper row and ending at two or more names in the lower one would indicate that the owner of the name in the upper row had beaten the owners of the names in the lower row, or vice versa. It was therefore quite easy for even a foreigner with but an elementary knowledge of the language to ascertain at a glance at the red lines which side was ahead for the time being and by exactly how many men. The Kohaku Shobu is furthermore the occasion for numerous promotions which were in my day also announced by Dr. Kano himself in a stereotyped formula from which he rarely if ever deviated. Even after the pruning process above referred to, a Kohaku Shobu commencing at eight in the morning rarely finished much before the same hour in the evening, and prior to the pruning process 11 p.m. has seen the young gladiators hard at it in the glare of incandescent lamps and nowadays of the electric light. Ordinary shobu, otherwise shiai, differ somewhat from the Kohaku in that there is no red and white classification and two out of three falls are required for a win unless the umpire, as already explained, announces “ippon shobu”, owing to the equal character of the struggle. Also it may be that two or even three couples with their three umpires are bouting simultaneously while, unlike the Kohaku Shobu, the onlookers maintain a religious silence. For those who are susceptible to verbal encouragement the ordinary shobu, held on an average every six weeks in the case of students below the dan grades, is therefore a far more serious and trying affair than the Kohaku and a greater test of physical endurance. Speaking from long personal experience I can say that the shobu is a genuine mental as well as physical ordeal—for the participant. In the case of the more advanced students who come on at a later hour, there is all the horror of anticipation to be contended against. As one enters the building the only sounds to greet the ear are the “dull sickening thuds” which proclaim successive falls, the deep breathing and panting of the contestants, and the staccato tones of the umpires as they declare victory and defeat. From the umpires’ decisions there is no appeal. In the comparatively rare cases where one of the competitors is a foreigner, he finds it difficult to resist the conviction that most of the onlookers who squat on the bleak-looking mats in serried ranks are anxious to see him defeated, not because they entertain towards him any personal animus but simply out of deference to the racial sentiment which is nowhere more assertive than in Japan, and which, while no doubt it makes for national solidarity, undeniably carries with it strong prejudice against the alien and the not unnatural desire for his discomfiture whenever and wherever he runs up against a true son of Dai Nippon. I must hasten to add that in my day at the Kodokan, whether or not this feeling existed, it was never allowed to reveal itself. No outward demonstration signalized victory or defeat on either side except on the occasion of the Kohaku Shobu already mentioned. But then as now, so far as the umpire himself is concerned, speaking generally, strict justice may be confidently expected at his hands, irrespective of race, colour or creed.

The pleasure of a shobu is not at all enhanced by the sort of weather Tokyo enjoys in winter. Let it be said that in the old Kodokan, as in all other dojo of my day, there was no artificial heating of any kind whatever, and in order to anticipate suggestions from inventive foreigners I must hasten to add that no footgear other than socks or stockings and no overcoats might be worn inside the building. Here, then, in such stark circumstances the expression Anglo-Saxon colloquialism “cold feet” had a very real and dreadful application. For reasons already explained, it was impossible for the heads of the dojo to specify the exact moment when a given competitor must take to the mats against his opponent or for them to determine beforehand who that opponent would be. Imagine therefore the state of being, physical and psychological, of the nervous person while waiting, constrained by the awful fascination of the game to watch as one after the other the contestants preceding him were either defeated or emerged victorious from the strenuous fray. The spectacle of a human being hitting the mats with a bang which literally shook the spring-supported floor and seemed to shake the entire building was hardly conducive to a happy, tranquil state of mind. The feet of the nervous onlooker were by this time so frigid as to be almost destitute of sensation, and what between excitement and the temperature his teeth would be chattering like the proverbial castanets and it would be with extreme difficulty that he could articulate at all. These symptoms of “blue funk”, I am sorry to say, were in my day rather more frequently exhibited by the foreigner than by the Japanese. After all the Japanese judoka has usually been caught very young, say at eleven, twelve or thirteen, and is thus to the manner born. Furthermore he is among friends and can as a rule depend upon the moral support of a large proportion of the spectators, while his opponent is usually a Japanese. The average foreigner is necessarily in a different position and is handicapped accordingly. As a matter of fact, however, during the whole of my experience of the game I can recall only five foreigners who had in my day taken part in shobu, and of this number two only at all regularly. Since the Second World War, the position in this respect has naturally changed almost out of all recognition and it is safe to say that of the many hundreds of Allied service men among the forces of occupation who had practised judo at the new Kodokan a considerable proportion must have taken part in contests.

Apropos the psychology of the shobu the testimony of my old friend Weed, now, alas, no more, is of great value, for he was a well-known athlete among resident foreigners in Japan where he was born of an American father and a Japanese mother, and had won distinction and numerous trophies in football, rowing, baseball, swimming, running and to a lesser extent cricket. When, therefore, a man of this calibre testifies that the judo competition is the most trying of all, and one that imposes the severest demands upon the nervous and physical forces, I think the reader ought to be convinced that in my own appraisement of the shobu I have not been guilty of any exaggeration.

What, it may be asked, is the human product of judo? Elsewhere in these pages I shall have occasion to quote the views of authorities like the late Dr. Jigoro Kano, the late Noboyuki Kunishige, and the late Sakujiro Yokoyama; but speaking briefly here from my own experience and observation I do not hesitate to declare that in my day at any rate the teachers and students of the art in Japan constituted a body of men of which any nation and any epoch might well be proud. In saying this I do not lose sight of the fact that there are inevitably black sheep in every fold and that in this respect judo can hardly hope to remain immune from the incidence of what seems to be the operation of a natural law. Also in too many cases, speaking rhetorically, the ichor-like fluid which flows in the veins of the pioneer idealists of any movement as often as not is transformed into commonplace gore in the veins of their venal descendants exposed to the corrupting influence of worldly success.

The foreigner in the old treaty ports who rarely left the beaten track and knew nothing of any other kind of Japanese than the narrow-chested pasty-faced, anaemic banto whose principal recreations were tobacco, sake and dissipation generally, was wont to smile almost sceptically when told of the existence of a very different type of native—of a young man bubbling over with health and vitality, not tall perhaps, but extraordinarily broad-shouldered, deep-chested and thick-necked, with beautifully developed thighs and calves, back and stomach muscles. This kind of man appears to walk somewhat from the hips with a suggestion of swagger, probably unconscious and the outcome of justifiable self-confidence. He was then and is now as a rule a student at one of the higher schools of Tokyo and Kyoto; and if, as sometimes happens, devotion to judo tends to detract a little from his devotion to book-learning he is none the worse on that account, and the race as a whole is decidedly better since it cannot be denied that at about the time when the late Dr. Kano succeeded in popularizing his system the greatest physical and nervous deterioration had set in as the outcome of excessive zeal in the pursuit of Occidental knowledge. It is scarcely too much to say that the revival of the old samurai art in an improved form has been the salvation of the rising generation, although it must be confessed there are still too many young men and boys who appear to be committed irrevocably to the sedentary life. Dr. Kano may thus with reason be regarded as a public benefactor, and that his motives were purely disinterested—in a pecuniary sense at least—is patent to all who are familiar with the facts. Owing to the almost nominal charge for tuition it is doubtful whether the old Kodokan did much more than support itself, and in many indirect ways it is almost certain that Dr. Kano was out of pocket for the board and lodging of the numerous shosei (a sort of student-dependant) who gathered round him. But to return to our muttons. The type of student whom I am endeavouring to describe is as a rule quiet and well-behaved, but it is not always possible to avoid trouble without sacrifice of self-respect. When, however, trouble does occur, it is usually confined to the opponent of the judo expert. Indeed it might almost be inferred that although hardly likely to have read Hamlet yet in such an emergency he is exemplifying the sage precept given to Laertes by his father Polonius which reads: “Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but being in bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee.” Herewith a few cases in point:

Two Kodokan teachers were assaulted by seventeen coolies in a meat-shop—a sort of popular restaurant. Although some of the coolies were armed with knives the gang were dispersed in a twinkling, three of them with broken arms and all with bruised and battered faces. As fast as one of the experts artistically “downed” his man the other would pick the victim up like an empty sack and dump him into the street. The only evidence of the conflict on the side of the two experts took the form of skinned knuckles where the latter had come into contact with the coolies’ teeth. On another occasion a celebrated expert fell foul of a coolie in the upper room of a restaurant and promptly threw him downstairs. The coolie returned to the fray with fourteen comrades, but the expert calmly sat at the head of the stairs and as fast as the coolies came up single file, owing to the narrowness of the passage, he simply choked them in detail and hurled them down again. In the excitement of the moment he was rather rougher than was strictly necessary and so broke one man’s neck. The rest fled in terror carrying off their dead and wounded. The judo expert was arrested, but as he was easily able to prove that he had been one man against fifteen he was, of course, acquitted. Nevertheless the Kodokan temporarily suspended him for his conduct which was deemed unduly violent.

In another case the hero, whom I knew personally, was then a youth below shodan grade and was attacked in a lonely part of Tokyo by a footpad armed with a sword. He succeeded in capturing the footpad and handing him over to the police, but received a wound in the foot which laid him up for a month. Dr. Kano himself had more than one adventure. During a voyage to Europe he once engaged in a wrestling contest with a huge Russian, and greatly to the surprise of the spectators, who had anticipated his speedy defeat, threw his opponent with ease by means of a koshinage or loin throw, and what is still more remarkable saved the Russian’s head from a nasty knock on the deck by placing his hand underneath it as the man fell. Commander Hirose, who perished during one of the famous blockading expeditions before Port Arthur during the Russo-Japanese war, was in his youth attached to the Japanese Legation at St. Petersburg as a student and was once challenged by a certain Russian naval officer of herculean proportions to a friendly trial of strength. Needless to say, Hirose, by means of his art, threw his man with ease. The Tsar, being informed of the episode, invited Hirose to the Imperial Palace where a contest was arranged with a famous athlete, and again Hirose emerged victorious. A well-known fourth-grade expert (yodan) named Uchida who travelled extensively in Korea, Manchuria and Siberia, had more than one occasion to utilize his knowledge of judo for purposes of self-protection and was never found wanting. In 1895 while travelling by steamer to Vladivostok, he came into conflict with a big Russian who, thinking to make use of his superior height and reach, seized Uchida by the collar and waist. Uchida, however, quickly applied a koshinage, which aptly lends itself to application against a taller opponent, and threw his man. The latter rose again and tried to kick Uchida, but was speedily swept off his feet and brought to the deck with a crash which knocked all the fight out of him. He fled from the arena and thereafter refrained from further interference with this formidable Japanese.

After long association with disciples of the cult, as it may almost be termed, one grows to recognize them anywhere by a sort of instinct. Perhaps their bearing becomes affected by the constant exercise of certain muscles in a certain way. The teacher of judo, who has been accustomed to practise almost daily until middle age, cannot safely retire at a moment’s notice and henceforth lead a life of ease. His system has grown to need the stimulus of exercise and the sudden suspension of that exercise is calculated to impair his general health. The teacher who begins to tire of his strenuous calling and to pine for the condition of inkyo (retirement) finds it necessary to leave off by gradually reducing the daily number of bouts until in the end he feels it safe to abandon practice altogether.