Cartoonist Ralph Cleaver imagines the ways in which jiujitsu might transform the policeman’s lot, and that of wider Edwardian society, in this series of cartoons for The Sketch.
This interview from the Midland Daily Telegraph of August 1, 1907 offers some further details on the life and career of Taro Miyake. A prominent member of the “second generation” of Japanese jiujitsu champions to travel to England, Miyake enjoyed great success as a challenge wrestler.
Miyake also partnered with former Bartitsu Club instructor Yukio Tani in opening London’s Japanese School of Jujitsu and, in 1906, in co-producing “The Game of Jujitsu”. This book was an unusually advanced and detailed training manual for its time, especially notable for its instruction in ne-waza (mat grappling) techniques, which were a particular specialty of Miyake’s instructors, Mataemon Tanabe and Yataro Handa. The Tanabe/Handa lineage was also a significant influence on the jiujitsu aspect of Bartitsu, as both Yukio Tani and Sadakazu Uyenishi were likewise highly trained in that specialty.
Miyake later travelled throughout Europe, again competing successfully in numerous wrestling challenge contests, before settling in Seattle, USA where he ran a jiujitsu dojo. Later in life he became interested in professional wrestling and attempted to introduce it to Japan, without great success. Miyake died in New York City in 1935.
Noting for the sake of clarity and interest that:
It is no exaggeration to say that the most-talked-of man in Coventry to-day is Tarro Miyake, champion ju-jitsu wrestler of Japan—and of the world for that matter. His exhibitions at the Hippodrome have aroused a degree of interest in the city that has seldom been equalled. Miyake ‘s fearless challenges to all comers have met with a ready response in Coventry; but the challengers, it must not be forgotten, have all received an equally ready defeat.
A “Midland Daily Telegraph” reporter had a chat with Miyake on Wednesday night before he went on to the stage to give his second performance of the evening. He was accompanied by his manager, Mr. W. H. Collingridge, and as he does not converse fluently in English — although he understands it perfectly — the conversation was carried on chiefly by the aid of Mr. Collingridge, who acted as interpreter.
Miyake, like many another champion, bears his honours lightly; and it was only after a little persuasion that he could be got to talk of his many victories. Bit by bit, however, he gave the reporter an outline of the story of hie life. It is simply a record of success. In brief, it is as follows.
He was born at Osaka about 25 years ago, and after leaving school first began to take an interest in jujitsu at the age of 18. He attended the school of Tanuba and Hauda (sic – Tanabe and Handa)- two well-known Japanese teachers—and soon he became exceedingly proficient in wrestling. He visited various small tournaments with signal success, and then tried his luck at the large ju-jitsu competition at Kioto (sic – Kyoto). Here be quickly proved his wonderful skill and succeeded in defeating 24 men in succession. Tarro accomplished this feat in the presence of Prince Komats (sic – Komatsu) and other Japanese grandees.
But his great triumph still lay before him. He celebrated it—appropriately enough—at Osaka. At the great tournament there in 1904, Miyake defeated five of the best wrestlers in Japan, and won for himself the championship of wrestling in the jujitsu style of that or any other country. For this success he received a gold medal, presented to him by the Crown Prince of Japan.
On another occasion Tarro received as the reward of his remarkable prowess a sword of honour from Prince Komatsu, President of the Buto Kukai. It was not till two and a half years ago that he came to England. Here he found another expert in ju-jitsu already installed in the person of Yukio Tani. Miyake at once challenged Yukio, and the match took place at the Tivoli Music Halt in London. The result was that Yukio met his Waterloo in seven minutes, and Tarro held his title of champion stronger than ever. In passing, it might be mentioned that one result of the encounter between Yukio and Tarro was that they became fast friends quickly after, and are now at the present moment conducting school together for the teaching of ju-jitsu at 305, Oxford Street, London, where over 350 pupils attend regularly and are taught this simple yet all powerful art of self-defence.
To describe Tarro Miyake is not a difficult task. He is taller than most of his countrymen, standing 5ft. 8in.—the avenge height of an Englishman, in fact. He is built in proportion and weighs eleven stones and a half. Altogether Tarro Miyake, when dressed in the orthodox English garb, appears very little different from an ordinary Englishman—but whether he will take this remark as a compliment or otherwise the writer is not quite sure.
He is seen at his best on the stage, however. Dressed for wrestling he wears a pair of short white cotton pants and a shirt, through the open neck of which can be seen his sun-browned skin and fine chest. With his curly hair disarranged, his fine figure and happy confident smile, Tarro presents a very pleasant picture when seen “on the boards.”
And he has good reason to have confidence in himself, for he confided last night that on only four occasions has he had to pay out the sovereign which he offers to all who stand more then seven minutes against him.
“Tarro, Yukio and I,” said Mr. Collingridge, “are trying to introduce ju-jitsu into England as a pastime. Its three great objects are moral culture, physical culture, and self-defence. It is a game which can be played equally well by the weak u by the strong.”
Asked if any of his family were wrestlers, Miyake replied in the negative. “How do you like England?” asked the reporter.
“Oh, very much, very much indeed,” replied Tarro with enthusiasm.
“He doesn’t want to go back to Japan any more,” interjected Mr. Collingridge. But though Miyake said nothing, there crept into his eyes a far-away look which told another story.
“And English wrestlers,” queried the reporter, “Do you find them easy to beat?”
“Oh, very,” was Tarro’s still smiling but rather disconcerting reply. ” Very easy,” be repeated and then explained that Englishmen when wrestling relied on their strength, while he simply depended on his skill. And his prowess has always stood him in good stead so far.
But Miyake has not only wrestled and defeated Englishmen. He has continued his success on the Continent. He was at the Athletic Tournament at Paris last year, when he succeeded in defeating all comers, including some of the best European wrestlers, and in each case his man was beaten in less than a minute. Since then Miyake has challenged Hackenschmidt, Munro, Madrali—the world of wrestlers, in fact—but has not yet succeeded in finding anyone to take him up.
A short time ago Miyake had an accident, which necessitated his undergoing a serious operation. While in the Tottenham Hospital a visit was paid to his ward by the Prince of Wales, to whom he was pointed out. His Highness admired Miyake’s fine physique, and shook him cordially by the hand—an honour of which Miyake is quite justifiably proud.
Although Miyake’s temper on the stage is imperturbable, his opponents do not always manage to keep theirs. This was illustrated a little while ago, Mr. Collingridge explained. Miyake was appearing in a northern town, when a huge black fellow, of towering height, accepted his challenge. Miyake defeated the black, but when the latter was allowed to get on his feet he “went for” the Jap, who, however, dodged the blow, and, getting the arm lock on, in his own expressive words, “sent him to sleep,” or in plain language rendered him unconscious.
“Miyake thinks a lot of Coventry,” said Mr. Collingridge. “Is that so?” asked the reporter. “Yes,” replied the Jap, “I think it is a very clean town indeed.”
“Wouldn’t you like to stay and see La Milo as Godiva?” persisted the interviewer.
Miyake laughed, “I would like to see the procession” he said, “but can’t possibly stop as I have particular business in London next week.” He explained that he had come to Coventry as a personal favour to Mr. Barry, who is an old friend. During his stay in Coventry he has admired all the beauties of the ancient city, and hopes to renew his acquaintance with them when he returns to fulfill another engagement at the Hippodrome early next year.
The national flag of Japan may be seen flying on the Hippodrome below the Union Jack. This Miyake takes as a great compliment. He has also been very much gratified by the number of people who have stopped him in the street and shaken bands with him. This morning, at the invitation of Mr. Lennox Barry, the manager of the Hippodrome, a private exposition of ju-jitsu was given by Tarro Miyake and Mr. Collingridge, to a large number of the members of the City Police. Several of the officers tried conclusions with the redoubtable Jap, but were quickly glad to cry, “hold ! enough.” He also very carefully described, by ocular demonstration, how the various “locks” were brought about.
At the conclusion of the exhibition Mr. Charsley, the Chief Constable, thanked Mr. Barry on behalf of his men, for inviting them to the exhibition, and Miyake and Mr. Collingridge for having so kindly demonstrated the wonderful capabilities of ju-jitsu. It was, said the Chief Constable, a wonderful science and capable of great possibilities. He thought his men would have to try the locks on each other before they began practicing them on refractory offenders in the street. (“Hear, hear,” and laughter).
There was again a crowded house at the Hippodrome last night, when Jack Madden, a focal wrestler, took up the challenge of Tarro Miyake, the Japanese wrestler. Madden succeeded in holding the Jap at bay for 7mins. 45secs. and was awarded a sovereign for his splendid effort.
This holiday-season article offers a departure from our usual focus on Edwardian-era martial arts and combat sports to briefly illuminate a much kinder and, therefore, more important endeavour from the same period; namely, the work of the Poor Children’s Yuletide Association.
That said, the PCYA was the brainchild of Sir C. Arthur Pearson, who is best-known to Bartitsu aficionados as the publisher of Pearson’s Magazine, without which the present-day revival of E.W. Barton-Wright’s New Art of Self Defence would probably have been impossible. Before his magazine featured Barton-Wright’s articles on “strongman” feats, jiujitsu and Vigny stick fighting, Pearson himself had accepted Barton-Wright’s offer of a personal demonstration, and then found himself flying head-over-heels via one of the first tomoe-nage (stomach throws) ever applied in England.
C. Arthur Pearson was a wealthy and influential man in Edwardian London society, with a particular philanthropic interest in the welfare of children. At that time, London’s slums were little better than when they had been described by Charles Dickens; impoverished families lived as well as they could manage, which is to say, not well. As one of Pearson’s contemporaries noted, “There are only two ‘classes’ in London – those who have too much, and those who have too little”.
In 1892, Pearson had established the Fresh Air Fund, a charitable organisation that enabled disadvantaged city children to take summer outings and holidays in the country. Thirteen years later, he observed that, while charities existed to provide for children in orphanages and hospitals during the winter holiday season, many thousands of “waifs” living in London tenements had never seen a Christmas tree, nor received a gift marking the season of goodwill. Therefore, in 1905 he set up the Poor Children’s Yuletide Association, a new and strictly non-denominational initiative that organised the distribution of Christmas treats to the children of the city’s poorest districts.
The scheme was as ingenious as it was generous. Through emotive advertising in Pearson’s various newspapers and magazines, individuals, companies and “working groups” (including children from wealthier families) were encouraged to donate toys, scrapbooks, sweetmeats and similar Christmas presents to the PCYA. Monetary donations were also encouraged, with all proceeds going towards purchasing more gifts, as the administrative and other costs of the Association were borne by Pearson and his fellow benefactors. As a thank-you to donors, the Association then organised “Christmas Tree Parties” in venues such as Victoria Hall, featuring entertainment, refreshments and galleries of hundreds of trees laden with decorations and presents.
On Christmas morning, fleets of vans donated by some of London’s major department stores delivered the trees and presents to those schools and parish halls that the PCYA had identified as serving those most in need. This massive logistical effort resulted in bright and happy Christmas parties for London’s neediest children.
Between 1906-10 the Poor Children’s Yuletide Association organised the distribution of many hundreds of trees and hundreds of thousands of gifts, leading one commentator to aptly describe the Association as “a sort of collective Santa Claus”.
With seasonal greetings to all readers of the Bartitsu Society website, and may you have a happy and prosperous New Year.
These photos from The Bystander of November 15th, 1905 portray a self-defence class taught by Ernest Regnier, a.k.a. “Re-Nie”, for senior members of the Parisian police force.
Regnier had been a proficient but down-on-his-luck wrestler until he was sponsored by the physical culture entrepreneur Edmond Desbonnet to travel to London and study at the Japanese School of Jujitsu. Upon Regnier’s return to Paris he decisively won a much-hyped contest against savateur Georges Dubois, sparking a brief but intense jiujitsu craze in the French capital. During that period he established a very nicely appointed dojo at Desbonnet’s gymnasium, wrote a text-book titled Les Secrets de Jiu-jitsu and also began instructing the French police, as shown below:
Regnier over-reached, however, when he began to challenge much stronger and more experienced wrestlers. Thereafter, the French jiujitsu boom continued mostly via books promoting the Bartitsu-like integration of Japanese unarmed combat with French savate, such as Georges Dubois’ Comment se Defendre and Jean Joseph Renaud’s La Defense dans la Rue.
Instructor Tommy Joe Moore (in the white shirt and then the black singlet) and a sparring partner engage in the noble art of fisticuffs during the recent BartitsuCon event:
Chilean instructor Andres Morales experiments with the Vigny style against not one, not two, but three stick-wielding opponents in this new video:
The experimental sparring match is reminiscent of this multiple-attacker sequence from E.W. Barton-Wright’s Self-Defence with a Walking Stick (1901):
… particularly Barton-Wright’s advice to “swing your stick right and left across people’s heads and faces until they disperse”. Incidentally, Bartitsu Club fencing instructor Captain Alfred Hutton once demonstrated an almost identical stick defence sequence during an interview with a London Daily Telegraph reporter.
After the Bartitsu Club closed in mid-1902, most of the instructors continued independent careers as instructors and combat sport athletes. Although Sadakazu Uyenishi was better-known as an instructor than as a challenge wrestler, he did successfully tour the music halls “taking on all comers” under his professional pseudonym, Raku.
In August of 1906, Uyenishi’s engagements brought him to Belfast, Ireland, where he made the news for something other than his martial arts proficiency. This event was reported in a number of regional papers, including the Belfast Weekly News:
Rescue by a Japanese Wrestler
Raku, the Japanese exponent of Jujitsu wrestling, who has during the week been appearing at the Palace, was walking across the Queen’s Bridge yesterday afternoon, in company with Mr. Harris, the manager of the Palace, when they noticed a man struggling in the water. Without the slightest hesitation the Jap. divested himself of his coat, and running down to the Bangor Jetty dived into the water.
Raku, who is a powerful swimmer, soon reached the drowning man and succeeded in keeping his bead above water until ferryboat came to the rescue. The men were landed at the ferry steps near the Queen’s Bridge, and – the famous wrestler having applied the Japanese method artificial respiration – the man soon recovered and was able to proceed home. It appears that he fell into the water from a boat while endeavouring to recover a lost oar.
In fairness, these events may well have played out exactly as reported. Uyenishi was, by other reports, a good swimmer and all-round athlete, and either he or Tani had previously been reported as having applied a kuatsu-style resuscitation technique to bring around an unconscious wrestling opponent.
It would be remiss, however, not to note the possibility of “swank”. Edwardian-era show business was far from immune from staging publicity stunts to generate controversy and ticket sales. A journalist from the Northern Whig offered a very polite note of surprise, if not overt skepticism, about one aspect of the story:
The ambulance was sent for, but the rescued individual, who had been brought round by the attentions of the gallant Raku, declined to enter it, preferring to go home in a car. His name and address do not seem have been elicited either by the rescuer or the ambulance men. This was rather a pity, because, when a public character like Raku effects a daring public rescue, the public like to know something about the identity of the rescued.
The rescued man’s name and address were then, seemingly, discovered, as subsequently reported by the Belfast News-Letter:
At the Palace
At the second performance at the Palace on Saturday evening, an interesting extra turn was supplied when Raku, the famous Japanese wrestler, was presented with a handsome gold watch in recognition of his gallantry in saving a man from drowning in the Lagan at the Queen’s Bridge 17th inst.
It will remembered that Raku, who was engaged at the Palace last week, was walking over the Queen’s Bridge on the Friday afternoon, when he saw a man in the water. He immediately divested himself of his coat, jumped into the river, and succeeded in keeping the man’s head above water until a ferry boat came to the rescue. The rescued man, whose name is Frank Reynolds, residing in Unity Street, soon recovered, and was little the worse of his immersion.
A number of local gentlemen formed themselves together and subscribed towards the presentation to the plucky Jap. Mr. Harris, the manager of the Palace, in making the presentation, said that he had been asked on behalf of the subscribers to hand over the gold watch in a token appreciation Mr. Raku’s heroic conduct. (Mr. Harris) was sure that he was only expressing the sentiments of the audience when he hoped that the famous wrestler would be long spared to wear it. (Applause.)
Mr. Raku’s manager, in reply, returned thanks, and said Raku desired him say that he had only done what any Britisher or Japanese would have done – namely, gone to the assistance of a man who was in danger of losing his life. (Applause.)
So – in August of 1906, Sadakazu Uyenishi may have heroically saved a man from drowning in the Lagan River, or may have been the key figure in a very elaborate publicity stunt. Either version makes for a colourful story.
The Weaver Hall Museum in Cheshire, U.K. will be hosting this event between 2.00 – 5.00 on Saturday, Jan. 26th. According to the organisers:
In 1899 a young woman and her husband go to see a demonstration by one Edward Barton-Wright, the first jujutsu instructor in Europe.
But how does she then become implicated in brawling between campaigners for the Women’s Vote and the police?
And what is the connection to the great fictional detective, Sherlock Holmes and his escape from the Reichenbach Falls?
We’ll be unfolding the legend of Edith Garrud, and taking a very physical look at how the Victorians combined English boxing, Japanese grappling and walking stick fencing, with the use of whatever came to hand, from umbrellas to bicycles, to create an early mixed martial art for street defence.
More on the event via their Facebook page.
The historical drama series Peaky Blinders is named for a fearsome Birmingham street gang armed with razor blades sewn into the rims of their flat “peaky” caps. But did that really happen? And even if it did – would a razor blade cap actually work as a weapon in hand-to-hand combat?
The series takes some liberties with history; for example, whereas the Peaky Blinders were a real Birmingham gang, their heyday had been during the late 19th century rather than during the post-WW1 period. Also, as noted by Birmingham historian Professor Carl Chinn, the historical record seems to make no reference to Peaky Blinder gangsters using razor blade cap weapons.
The hooligan gangs active in 1890s Birmingham were infamous for wielding steel-capped boots, stones and sometimes knives; they also used heavy belt buckles as flails and kept their pockets full of iron bolts to be thrown as projectile weapons. Straight-razors (rather than razor caps) were used as weapons by street gangsters in cities as far-flung as Glasgow, Sydney and Sao Paolo during the early decades of the 20th century.
The first documented reference to razor blade caps, however, actually appears to have been in a popular novel written by Birmingham author John Douglas in 1977.
In A Walk Down Summer Lane, which is set between the two World Wars, Douglas describes the bills of the gangsters’ “peaky” caps as being “slit open and pennies or razor-blades or pieces of slate inserted and stitched up again.” In close combat, according to Douglas, the cap would be “whipped off the head and swiped across the opponent’s eyes, momentarily blinding them, or slashing the cheeks.”
Douglas also refers to this nasty street-fighting trick in his poem, The Legend of Summer Lane:
I was born in Newtown Row – down Summer Lane we dursen’t go,
To show our face because, you know, they’re always fighting drunk, lad.
They’d shop their gran for two and six, or blind your eyes with brutal flicks,
Of ‘peaky blinders’ – just for kicks – but only just in fun, lad.
Douglas may have been referring to a bit of real Birmingham history that went unreported at the time the Peaky Blinders were most active, or simply repeating a colourful local urban legend. It’s also possible that he invented an improvised weapon out of whole cloth, as it were, for storytelling purposes. However, A Walk Down Summer Lane undoubtedly spread the folklore of the razor cap, especially when it was serialised in the Evening Mail newspaper during the late 1970s.
But would it work as a weapon?
Regardless of its historicity, is a cap with razor blades sewn into the rim a plausible weapon in hand to hand combat, as described by John Douglas and as shown in the Peaky Blinders TV series? What sort of damage could it do?
We stitched two relatively heavy antique razor blades into the brim of a tweed flat cap and set about testing the weapon. Our first observation was that, in order for the blades to be sufficiently exposed to serve as weapons, they have to be stitched so as to project at a particular, dynamic angle relative to the cap brim. While the razors might not be noticeable at a distance they are quite obvious (and potentially intimidating) at close range.
Gripped by the rear of the cap and swung with force, the blades consistently slashed cleanly through braced sheets of 1/4″ cardboard, leaving 3″ long cuts. Covering the cardboard targets with light cotton fabric reduced the depth and length of penetration and heavier fabric reduced it to negligible levels, so exposed-skin targets such as the face and hands are the most plausible.
Although the Peaky Blinders series often shows a single slashing attack with the cap dealing several parallel wounds simultaneously, our experiments suggest that to be impossible if the razors are all stitched into the cap brim in parallel.
Our conclusions are that the razor blade cap could plausibly be used as a weapon in surprise attacks, albeit not an especially effective weapon when compared to knives or straight razors. It is, however, unquestionably potent in works of dramatic fiction.
Even before Edith Garrud began teaching jiujitsu classes for the women and children of London, Emily Diana Watts was pioneering the way for female martial arts instructors in the Western world. This post looks at her extraordinary career as a martial athlete and physical culture innovator.
Born into a wealthy family in the year 1867, Watts developed an early enthusiasm for the “strenuous life” and in 1903 she began studying jiujitsu with former Bartitsu Club instructor Sadakazu Uyenishi and his associate, Akitaro Ono. By 1906 she was teaching basic classes herself at Prince’s Skating Rink in Knightsbridge. That was also the year in which she published “The Fine Art of Jujutsu“, a handsomely produced manual that was notable as being the first book in the English language to detail a number of Kodokan judo techniques.
Watts continued to study and teach jiujitsu but also found herself drawn to physical culture in the broader sense. By the beginning of the First World War she had become passionately engaged in the task of reviving classical Greek exercises via the close study of ancient statuary and artwork.
In 1914 she presented her new system in a book entitled “The Renaissance of the Greek Ideal“, writing as “Diana Watts”. Although academics criticised her fashionably romantic view of classical Greece, pointing out that many of the translations she used to illustrate her points were themselves inaccurate, the book was generally very well received. On its strength, Watts was invited to join both the French Institut Marey and the American Institute of Archeology.
Her presentations put a new spin on both the fad for “Grecian” dance (exemplified by Isadora Duncan) and the traditional Victorian poses plastique. In displays of the latter type, athletes, often almost nude with their faces and bodies powdered with white makeup, would assume postures evocative of famous works of classical statuary. This form of visual theatre had been popularised by the famous strongman Eugen Sandow at the turn of the 20th century.
Rather than holding frozen postures, however, Diana Watts would demonstrate her interpretations of the athletic techniques portrayed by the statues. These included actions such as drawing a bow, hurling a discus or throwing an opponent in wrestling.
Here is a video montage of some of the exercises from “Renaissance of the Greek Ideal”, re-animated from the cinematographic photographs that illustrated the original book:
Several critics noted the “suspicious” resemblance between Watts’ “ancient Greek” exercises and those of the Japanese martial arts. In her own words:
In selecting and systematising different series of sequential movements which shall be perfectly natural, one turns instinctively to those needed in imaginary attack and defence, not only on account of the great variety of these positions, but because of the rapidity with which they must be performed. The origin, then, of all physical training is war. Among primitive peoples, it was necessary to be always on guard against sudden attacks. For this reason, during times of peace, they practised at first a sort of mimic war, which gradually developed into a sport. The Greeks ascribed the invention of wrestling to mythical persons such as Palaestra, the daughter of Hermes, and to Theseus is given the honour of having been the first to reduce the sport to a game, with well-defined rules, and thus to have made an art of wrestling; whereas before his time it consisted of the most brutal fighting, in which the strength and weight of the adversary alone decided the victory.
In the mimic battles of the Spartans, they frequently lost eyes and ears, which tortures they accepted as the necessary sacrifice in return for the indomitable fortitude which they acquired.
At a later date, the system adopted by the Athenians had for aim beauty of form and line, and grace of movement, and no competitor was awarded a prize unless his performance had been gracefully as well as effectively achieved. Contest by wrestling was divided into two branches by the ancient Greeks. The first was the “Pale Orthe,” the upright wrestling. The second was called “Halendesis” or “Kylisis,” in which the athlete wrestled with his adversary on the ground. The “Pale Orthe” was the only kind of wrestling practised in Homeric times, and also later on in the National Games of the Greeks. The rules provided that on the fall of an athlete his adversary should allow him to rise and resume the contest if he wished, but if he fell three times, the victory was decided in favour of the other. There were also preparatory exercises called “Analeinemata,” exercises which were looked upon as of the greatest importance, since through them alone could the athlete acquire that tense elasticity of muscle necessary for the extreme rapidity required in actual wrestling.
It is, then, natural to suppose that the preparatory movements represented as nearly as possible the actual positions taken in wrestling, so that by continued practice the pupil might arrive at the unhesitating certainty and precision needed in the varied changes of position of real contest.
Antique Art gives many examples of this extraordinarily rapid form of wrestling by tripping. It appeared many centuries later among the Chinese, brought back probably through their intercourse with the Persians. The form of wrestling called Jujutsu, practised by the Japanese of the present day, is, I am convinced, a survival of the “Pale Orthe” of the Greeks. The collection of tracings on page 39, taken from Professor Krause’s book “Hellenika Gymnastik und Agonistik,” show the close resemblance of some of the Japanese throws used in Jujutsu, to those of the Greeks.
No. 1, especially, is identical with the Koshinage shoulder throw, in which the thrower drops on his knees after having hoisted his opponent upon his shoulder. This throw can be given standing or kneeling, but the latter position is much more disastrous to the victim. No. 2 is obviously the Koshinage hip-throw, as used in Jujutsu at the present day, and No. 4 has a very close resemblance to the Japanese “Shimoku,” the position of the attacker’s left hand being the only essential difference, while he is practically erect, instead of crouching on bent knees.
The “Pale Orthe” was introduced into Japan by a Chinaman about the third or fourth century, under the name of “Jujutsu,” and remained a jealously-guarded secret known to and practised by the Samurai nobles alone, until comparatively a few years ago—in 1860, I think—when the general public were allowed to learn. With the strange liking of the Chinese for all that represents the grotesque in movement, they neglected, and eventually completely lost, all the grace and beauty esteemed by the Greeks as indispensable, and retained only the dramatic and practical sides of wrestling, the genuine self-defence, which, among the Greeks, was subordinated to beauty.
It is, then, upon the preparatory movements that I place such immense importance, and it was during the study of all the rapid changes of position in this “Pale Orthe,” which demand such exquisite balance, that I found for myself the Law of Balance in movement, the application of which allows of the greatest rapidity and force with the least expenditure of energy. This law, as I have said, requires the centre of gravity of a moving body to be kept exactly and continuously over its base, an impossible achievement except under the condition of Tension already described.
As explained in “The Renaissance of the Greek Ideal”, Watts’ training system went well beyond simple public performance, comprising a detailed method of physical, mental and even spiritual development based on the principles of balance and dynamic tension. It was also promoted as an aid to longevity, turning the tide of middle age and restoring youthful poise and energy.
Diana Watts spent many years touring on the international lecture circuit, sometimes in collaboration with other artists and researchers inspired by classical antiquity. Her personal wealth allowed her to fund these tours and to lecture free of charge, and by the 1940s she had circled the world five times, meeting Mahatma Gandhi and befriending George Bernard Shaw among other notables. She had homes in England, Italy and in Canada and was famous enough to have been written in to several novels and short stories as a sort of archetype of the eccentric physical culture enthusiast.
Watts’ system evidently worked for her, as she lived until 1968, passing away at the age of 101. Perhaps her training system is due for a revival.