“Sherlock Holmes and Bartitsu” (Part Two)

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Saturday, 28th August 2010

The second chapter of Michael Bertram Wooster’s extraordinary memoir details the collaboration between consulting detective Sherlock Holmes and Bartitsu founder E.W. Barton-Wright, including samples of their detailed technical correspondence.

(Holmes) would later claim that he had traveled incognito to Lhassa, Mecca, war-torn Khartoum and Montpellier, France. These seem formidable objectives for a British tourist wishing to avoid scrutiny. On the other hand, Mycroft allegedly hinted to my grandfather that Sherlock attended the Kodokan Institute in the early 1890s. Perhaps the encounter with Moriarty convinced him that he needed a thorough grounding in Judo. It should be noted that, among Holmes’ many correspondents of that decade, two – Captain H. M. Hughes and E. J. Harrison – were European Kodokan graduates.

In any event, it was Kano who, in 1896, introduced Holmes to yet another British Jujutsuka.

E.W. Barton-Wright, 1899

E.W. Barton-Wright, 1899

Edward William Barton-Wright was a civil engineer for E. H. Hunter & Company, living in Kobe. A world-traveler and life-long student of the martial disciplines, Barton-Wright had been evolving his own eclectic fighting style for many years.

“I have always been interested in the arts of self defense,” he told Gunji Koizumi in 1950, “and I learned various methods including boxing, wrestling, fencing, savate and the use of stiletto under recognized masters, and by engaging toughs. I trained myself until I was satisfied in their practical application.”

Barton-Wright might have had occasion to observe or study Tenjin Shin’yô-ryû while in Yokohama. In Kobe, the persistent engineer convinced a local sensei named Terajima Kuniichiro to train him in Shinden Fudo Ryu. He also somehow found time to participate in Kyushu Ryu demonstrations with Shihan Yoshinori Eguchi of Kumamoto Prefecture. This last lead to a brief acquaintance with Kano Jigoro (a close associate of Eguchi Shihan) who, in turn, passed him along to yet another friend.

In June of 1896, Kano penned a short letter to Sherlock Holmes, in which he encouraged the two Englishmen to exchange letters.

“I do not know (Barton-Wright) well,” he wrote, “but I sense talent and an inquisitive mind. Between the two of you perhaps one might say there is a similarity of intent.” (Kano, 1983/198/03)

Sherlock Holmes and Edward Barton-Wright subsequently carried on a correspondence which lasted for seven years. Only twelve letters survive today; all but three of them are to found in the archives of the Vernet Foundation at 28 Rue Juve in Paris. The rest are in the hands of a private collector whose name I have promised not to reveal. Everything thing else has been lost. These papers were originally housed in a safety-deposit box at Cox and Co., Charing Cross, which was damaged quite badly during the London blitz.

Surprisingly little of their conversation involved the fighting arts. For the most part these letters form a near compendium of Victorian naturopathy. The two men discussed, at length; acupuncture, vibra-massage, phrenology, mesmerism, cataphoresis, Pythagorean diet, and the relative merits of fasting. At times the tone of eccentric brilliance becomes almost comical. In one letter, Barton-Wright lovingly describes the mechanisms of a Toepler-Holtz 20-plate electro-static inducer. In another, Holmes repeatedly advocates the consumption of royal jelly.

The first mention of Bartitsu comes from a diary entry, dated September 1896, in which Holmes writes:

BW has for some time envisioned a new system of self-defense which would combine his favorite techniques from Asian and European combat arts into a coherent whole. His style is devised for the purpose of rendering any normal person capable of protecting themselves from to any method of attack that might arise.

It is his fancy to call it Bartitsu, derived obviously from ju-jitsu and his own surname.

The system, as he envisions it, breaks down into three parts (which ideally will flow together seamlessly in practice.)

I) The Art of Defending Oneself with a Weapon

Bartitsu will provide weapons training of a sort. BW primarily wishes to teach the different methods of defending oneself with a walking-stick or umbrella (nearly ubiquitous items in modern society). He appreciates the way a stick extends the range of ones defenses. I am not yet certain which method (or combination thereof) he will focus upon – be it singlestick, Bâton français, Canne d’Arme, scherma di bastone, faction fighting or the like – but it will no doubt play a profound role in his school. BW has stated his intention of writing to the French maitre d’armes Mons. Vigny, who evidently has some strong ideas in this regard.

Fencing will be taught, of course, as it emphasizes timing and cadence; as well as speed, economy, precision and footwork.

II) The Art of Striking with the Limbs

This will encompass boxing and the use of lower limbs in an offensive and defensive manner. The student will learn balance and movement, how to determine and maintain adequate distance from an opponent, and the importance of efficient footwork. BW will teach the basic boxing punches, as well as practical kicks (most of them either drawn directly or modified from savate and ashi-ate-waza, with the notable exception of the Cumbrian stomp.)

The student will also learn to defend himself by Evading the Blow (slipping, bobbing and Tenkan pivoting) and Guarding or Checking the Blow (blocking and parrying).

As I understand it, Bartitsu will teach Striking primarily as a defensive means of allowing the student to gain close-quarters in regards to his assailant, at which time the focus will turn to

III) The Art of Grappling

The student will learn to overcome his opponent through use of throws, holds, pins, foot-sweeps, traps, locks and chokes.

This system sounds viable in theory; I am sure that the fine points will be worked out on the mat.

BW plans to form a sporting club in London which will disseminate this system among a select and suitable membership. As BW pictures it, this will serve as both a gymnasium and a school-of-arms, offering a variety of classes in different antagonistic systems, each of which will be taught by a master of the chosen art. BW quite rightly considers himself qualified to conduct classes in several of these. In addition, he has approached Professor Kano, sensei Yataoru Handa of Osaka, and some others in Japan about possibly finding talented young Ju-do or Ju-jitsu teachers willing to train Englishmen. BW will bring these champions to London at his own expense (or rather, they shall earn their keep through tournament prizes and private wagers which gamble upon their skill.)

BW intends to scour Europe for specialized instructors in other forms of sport and combative arts as well – not limited to boxers, wrestlers, swordsmen and stick fighters, perhaps even a professeur of la boxe Francaise. (Although – typical Englishman – he avers that ‘French Foot Fighting’ is utterly useless.)

While he has no doubt that many will wish to watch and learn Jujutsu from Japanese experts, BW will also encourage the Jujutsuka to study classical boxing, wrestling and savate so that they might recognize the likely attack scenarios of an English opponent. There will be an emphasis on randori (competition). Each master will engage and spar with the others, each learning the system of the other so as to adapt and improve their own.

(Pike, 1954/053/03)

When Barton-Wright arrived in London in late 1898, he sought to put these plans into action. He dined several times with Sherlock Holmes at the Cafe Royal, discussing his goals and intentions for Bartitsu. Holmes proved to be an enthusiastic and creative co-conspirator; offering much helpful advice and, at times, proffering subtle critiques of both his friend’s aspirations and late-Victorian society.

4 November 1898

A New Art of Self Defense for the Average Man is a most felicitous phrase and I have no doubt that Bartitsu, presented to the general public under that rubric, will win popular acclaim and prove most successful. It occurs to me, however, that most of the subscribers to your system will find little practical use for it. The average West End gentleman will never, throughout the course of his long life, encounter a true threat of physical violence. There is a great fixed gulf which lies between the refined classes and the bludgers, hooligans and nobblers who haunt their fears. The latter tend to stay within their own neighborhoods, east of the City and north of the Thames.

(Vernet Collection: Holmes, 1988/217/01)

Despite such raillery, Holmes seemed genuinely excited by the idea of Bartitsu; the union of East and West, the democratic testing of techniques, the scientific perfection of brawling. He spent several months introducing his new friend to wealthy and socially prominent ‘physical culture enthusiasts’, many of whom had previously consulted him as clients. These included Herbert Gladstone, Captain Alfred Hutton, Lord Alwyne Compton, Lord Arthur Cecil, Lord Emsworth, Baron Chuffnell and Lord Robert St. Simon. When Bartitsu Limited was incorporated on 26th November, the board of directors included Compton, Cecil and Hutton.

Barton-Wright was elated, and he happily reported each public relations coup.

January 1899

I have agreed to write a series of articles for Pearson’s Magazine, which will explain the concept of Bartitsu and offer, with the assistance of either photographs or line-drawings, several of the three-hundred methods of attack and counter-attack that comprise it. While it will not be possible through such an abbreviated medium to do complete justice to the subject, I am hoping that the scope of these feats will allow the reader to intuit that Bartitsu offers a practical way of meeting every conceivable contingency. As you yourself have so often said, “There is no combination of events for which the wit of man cannot conceive a response.”

For example:

A Way of Defending yourself, when a Man Strikes at your Face with his Right Fist

This is a most useful feat and I am certain that many will wish to learn it. Naturally there are numerous ways to meet this threat. The method I have chosen here is rather terrible in effect and some objection may be taken to apparent brutality of it. When considering the advantages of Bartitsu, it must be remembered that there are times when no method is too severe to be adopted in order to protect oneself. We are not, after all, teaching a sport, but rather a method of defense. One cannot always expect an opponent to conduct himself in the recognised style of English fair play and in such cases one must use whatever means lay at hand to overthrow an assailant without any risk of harm to oneself.

We assume that your assailant strikes at you with his right fist. You must guard yourself by raising your left arm quickly and receiving the blow on the radius of your forearm. This must be done rather aggressively so that your block lands solidly at the base of his brachioradialis muscle, halfway down the assailant’s upper limb.

Strike your assailant’s right shoulder with the heel of your right palm. With the same hand, grab a firm hold of his coat-cloth and pull this shoulder downward.

Quickly raise your right knee up and drive it forcefully into your assailant’s côleî. This will immediately cause him to bend foreword, so as to protect that most sensitive area.

Continue pulling your assailant’s right shoulder down as you pass your left arm under the crook of his right arm. As you do this you should pivot clockwise on the ball of your left foot and placed your right foot to the side so that you are standing sideways in relation to your opponent. Place your left hand on top of your right hand. The assailant’s arm should now be resting on your left shoulder.

In this position you should have no difficulty in forcing him to his knees.

(This letter is accompanied by a line drawing showing an ushiro ude gatami style of shoulder lock.)

(Vernet Collection: Holmes, 1988/217/02)

When he had finished the article, Barton-Wright sent a copy for Holmes to peruse. The great detective sent a warm response, which ended with an odd admonition.

Never underestimate the efficacy of a knee to the thigh, my dear Barton-Wright. I was once able to subdue a skilled Whitechapel punisher of nearly 18 stone by clinching him tightly with a rear bear hug and repeatedly driving the point of my kneecap into his hamstrings.

(Vernet Collection: Holmes, 1988/217/04)

In February, Barton-Wright encountered a slight set-back.

I have been asked to omit a section of my Pearson’s article which demonstrates how to meet a knife attack and disarm the assailant. Messrs. Pearson and Everett thought it inadvisable that such great publicity should be given to these feats. While I understand the nature of their concern, I feel that these methods provide a simple and effective way to meet contingencies of that kind. I was attacked by men with knives on several occasions during a long residence in Portugal, and in every case I succeeded in disabling my adversary without being hurt myself, although I had not even a stick in my hand with which to defend myself.

To which Holmes responded:

This omission is no doubt for the best. Such tasks are difficult, dangerous and should not be entered lightly.

The last time I was required to defend myself against a dagger was in August of 1889. A certain Mr. (Joseph Harrison) possessed rather more viciousness that I gave him credit for. Upon discovery, he flew at me with his knife. Fortunately he was a novice with the sticker. His blade was a mere 3 inches in length; not nearly long enough to penetrate the heart through layers of fascia, chest muscles, and rib cage. I was able to evade his thrust, but had to grasp him twice, and got a cut over the knuckles, before I had the upper hand of him. I gave him a rather sharp kick to the shin and then another to the arbor vitae. By this time I was able to gain control of his elbow and could disarm him with a blow to the carotid artery. He looked murder out of the only eye he could see with when we had finished.

(Vernet Collection: Holmes, 1988/217/05)

Otherwise, things were going well.

The Bartitsu Academy of Arms and Physical Culture was established at 67a Shaftesbury Avenue in Soho. Pierre Vigny agreed to give instruction on his revolutionary method of stick fighting. Four talented young Jujitsu teachers soon arrived from Japan: S. Yamamoto, Sadakazu Uyenishi and the Tani Brothers. Barton-Wright began advertising his system at different venues with a series of lectures, demonstrations and challenges. Holmes attended several and was amused by his friend’s promotional sense.

On 22 August 1901, the Bartitsu Club was preparing for a public lecture and exhibition at the Tivoli Theatre. They invited the press and a few comrades to a private rehearsal. Holmes was among them.

The next morning he wrote Barton-Wright a congratulatory note. At one point, he mildly took his friend to task for certain comments about European wrestling which could have been interpreted as sardonic or condescending. Barton-Wright wrote a short reply which denied the allegation, while at the same time also seemed to confirm it.

I have no bias against the Greco-Romans, as you seem to believe. I merely feel a certainty, born of experience, that there are more elegant and effective styles of wrestling in the world. To my knowledge none of the great European wrestlers has ever prevailed against a champion of Ju-do or Ju-jitsu, and in fact most refuse to even run that risk for fear of having their necks broken. My mind, as ever, remains open. I am perfectly willing to study anything which can add to my store of practical knowledge. I am fully prepared to learn a new style of western wrestling should I encounter a wrestler who can convince me that his power resides in reproducible technique and not to an aberration of personal size or brute strength.

(Sheridan, 1947/042/03)

It is interesting to note that, within a month’s time, Vigny was dispatched to Sainte-Croix, Switzerland, to recruit a young all-in wrestling phenom named Armand Cherpillod.

The only known photograph of E.W. Barton-Wright (left) and Sherlock Holmes (circa 1900).

Holmes was a frequent visitor to the Shaftesbury Avenue Club. He greatly enjoyed watching the bouts and attending lessons in various fighting styles. He regularly made use of the club’s gymnasium.

A notebook from that period also give us some insight into his exercise program. Sherlock Holmes sought to train his entire body during each workout session and his exercises were designed for both strength and endurance. His typical workout featured sprints, stretches, bends, push-ups, jumping jacks, handstands, fast high knee raises, sandbag lifting and skipping-rope. He would wind a length of thick nautical rope around a chin-bar so that the ends hung down; his pull-ups were done while gripping this rope. Sometimes he would hold tennis balls in his hands while doing the pull-ups. Depending on his mood, he would incorporate various pieces of gym equipment into his routine. Holmes was equally adept with the barbell, the dumbell, wand pulley, Indian club, medicine ball, crusher, kettlebell and swingbell.

This workout routine becomes even more remarkable when one considers that Sherlock Holmes was, at this time, a forty-eight year old man.

After a long workout Holmes would sometimes avail himself of the Club’s sun lamps and radiant heat baths. More often, he would stop into Nevill’s Turkish Baths on his way home.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays Holmes would focus on his punching, kicking and footwork drills. (These sessions often ended with sparring or “back and forth” with a partner.) Holmes very much enjoyed sparring. He tested himself against anyone who he thought might offer him a challenge.

One of the instructors in particular intrigued him.

From Holmes to Barton-Wright, dated 16 August 1901:

I’m a bit of a single-stick expert, as you know, and have been fencing since my first year at Oxford. Thus, I am most fascinated by Monsieur Vigny’s use of the cane. The guards were not what I expected, but I now find them to be rather inspired.

And again, from 9 April 1902:

Vigny and I were able to engage in a short assault this evening. In the end, the Frenchman was too much for me, but I would like to think that I gave as well as I received. As we saluted he congratulated me on my competence with the stick and on my tolerance for blows.

I encountered him again upon leaving. He eyed my walking stick approvingly and said, “Ah, a silver-mounted malacca cane. Very fine. I have one myself.”

We had a short cordial conversation and shook hands. “I understand that you once rendered a service for Monsieur Charles Charlemont, the (savate) champion,” he said, (no doubt referring to that dreadful business of the Azure Window). “I have long wished to meet him. If you should see him again soon, please tell him that I am at his disposal, for any stake he should want. Queensberry rules, of course.”

He walked away without another word.

At this point, the conversation between E.W. Barton-Wright and Sherlock Holmes comes to a full stop.

Continue to Part Three.

Posted in Antagonistics, Bartitsu School of Arms, Canonical Bartitsu, E. W. Barton-Wright, Fiction, Jiujitsu, Physical Culture, Sherlock Holmes, Vigny stick fighting | Comments Off on “Sherlock Holmes and Bartitsu” (Part Two)

“Sherlock Holmes and Bartitsu” (Part Three)

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Saturday, 28th August 2010

The third and final installment of Michael Bertram Wooster’s report concerns the fall of the Bartitsu Club and solves the riddle of Holmes’ “baritsu”.

In 1902, the founder of Bartitsu broke with one of his most important instructors. Barton-Wright’s relationship with Yukio Tani, difficult even in the best of times, came to an abrupt end. As the Englishman later told Gunji Koizumi:

“… Tani was troublesome in keeping appointments. I proposed to make deductions from his wages. One day he was in a furious temper over it and threatened me with violence. In the conflict which followed, Bartitsu proved superior to his Ju-Jitsu. That was the end of our connection.”

Yukio Tani (right) circa 1903.

This split came at a bad time. The club was struggling. Enrollment fees and tuitions were considered to be too high by some, and the affluent classes of London were not lining up to apply. When the end finally came, the instructors scattered to the winds. Cherpillod, his already formidible skills enhanced with knowledge of Jujutsu, returned to Switzerland. Pierre Vigny left Shaftesbury Avenue to establish his own self-defense academy on Berner Street. The Jujutsuka also stayed in London, ultimately laying the foundation for a “European Jujutsu Boom”.

At any rate, Barton-Wright’s attention was focusing more and more on physical therapy. He continued to adapt and teach Bartitsu, but not with the same zeal or conviction. He began to bill himself as an Electro-Medical Specialist; and his collection of foot baths, ultraviolet lamps and thermophores continued to grow. By 1906, Shaftesbury Avenue was no longer advertised as a school of arms; it was the ‘Bartitsu Light Cure Institute Limited’.

In 1903, Sherlock Holmes retired to his bee farm in the Sussex Downs. His letters to Barton-Wright ended abruptly. Holmes’ interests from that point on seem to have shifted to chemistry, bee keeping and the compilation of his twin chef-d’oeuvres, “The Modern Forensic Sciences” and “The Complete Art of Deduction”.

And so ends Sherlock Holmes’ association with Jujitsu, Judo and Bartitsu.

Except for one private conversation in 1922.

As I have already told you, my grandfather was ‘The Old Man’, Sir Henry St. John Merrivale, 9th Baronet. He was a fascinating old beggar: a barrister, a Bachelor of Medicine, amateur prestidigitator, failed music hall comic, occult investigator, detective, anarchist and spy-master.

He was also a long-time member of the Diogenes Club and a good friend to Mr. Mycroft Holmes. It was through Mycroft, in 1905, that my grandfather was first introduced Sherlock Holmes, in the Stranger’s Room of the Diogenes.

An extremely rare photograph of the interior of the Diogenes Club (circa 1920).

They met several times thereafter, but the incident which now concerns us took place in December of 1922 at the Salmon & Gluckstein Tobacconist shop on Oxford Street.

Sir Henry had just popped in to buy a fistful of Dunhill panatelas when he noticed the elderly Sherlock Holmes standing between some tobacco bins. The Great Detective was making one of his rare visits to London. He had fled the coastal gales of East Sussex to spend Christmas with Mycroft in Pall Mall.

“I am afraid,” said Holmes, “that I have resumed that course of nicotine-poisoning which my good friend, Doctor John Watson, has so often and so justly condemned.”

My grandfather, as was his nature, demurred.

“A little vice never harmed a healthy man. You are far too vigorous as it is. Moderation is the key. Smoke a large pipeful and then go clear the lungs with a series of Baritsu kicks and rolls.”

“Bartitsu,” corrected Holmes.

“And yet your faithful friend and biographer, Doctor Watson, spelled it Baritsu in The Adventure of the Empty House.”

Holmes casually waved a hand in the air, as though brushing away a fly.

Sherlock Holmes' associate, Dr. John Watson.

“Watson is a literary man”, he told my grandfather, ” and as such has little regard for the literal truth of his accounts. I have often had occasion to point out to him how superficial these are and to accuse him of pandering to popular taste instead of confining himself rigidly to facts and figures. Yet in this case I cannot judge him too harshly. Watson, knowing of my friendship with Mr. Barton-Wright and my membership in the Shaftesbury Avenue club, naturally assumed that I had utilized some sort of Bartitsu toss. Obviously, this was incorrect. Bartitsu did not exist in May of 1891, when my fatal encounter with Moriarty took place. Barton-Wright himself did not even begin to study Ju-jitsu until 1894; and his system of self-defense was not incorporated until 1898. It was my knowledge of Judo which proved so useful to me on the precipice of Reichenbachfall. Moriarty grabbed me in a front bearhug and I instinctively responded with an O Goshi hip throw.”

“But in all this time you saw no reason elucidate the mistake or to change the story so that Mr. Kano got the credit due to him for your survival?”

“Pshaw,” said Holmes. “The story itself was not harmed by such a minor error and, in fact, was probably ennobled by it. Everybody knows Kano’s name now. He values my friendship, but has little use for my kudos. On the other hand, Edward Barton-Wright’s reputation is in decline. This is most unfortunate. Bartitsu, as far as I am concerned, is the most effective street-fighting system I have yet encountered. Had I possessed such skills at that time, I would most likely have used them. Perhaps that one little word in Watson’s story of will yet spark a renewal of interest in his art.”

My grandfather persisted.

“But what of the spelling? Why Baritsu and not Bartitsu?”

Holmes laughed and lit his pipe.

“Bartitsu became Baritsu due to the bowdlerization of a printer, who suspected that this unusual word contained a double entendre involving mammaries. He solved the problem by dropping the initial t.”

I hope that solves more questions than it raises.

Michael Bertram Wooster

****

I am indebted to the Vernet Foundation, from which I drew the following material.

Russell, 1948/038/- Private letters and diaries
(Donor: M. Russell)

Kano, 1983/198/-
A collection of corresponance between Sherlock Holmes and Kano Jigoro. (Donor: D. Risei Kano)

Pike, 1954/053/-
Photocopies of 3 handwritten and unpublished diaries which cover 1887, 1891 and 1897. (Donor: Langdale Pike)

Trevor-Pitt, 1968/113/-
An archive of papers relating to Victor Trevor, including the typed transcript of a letter (dated June 1887) from William Sherlock Scott Holmes. (Donor: Amelia Trevor-Pitt)

Holmes, 1988/217/-
A collection of correspondence between William Sherlock Scott Holmes of London to Mr E. Wm. Barton-Wright in Kobe, Japan. (Donor: Mycroft Holmes)

Sheridan, 1947/042/-
(date 20 October 1900) from Edward Barton-Wright to Sherlock Holmes. (Donor: Audrey Ann Blake Sheridan)

An interview with Barton-Wright conducted by Gunji Koizumi. (Koizumi, G: “Facts and History”, Budokwai Bulletin, July 1950.)

The works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: A Study in Scarlet; The Sign of the Four;The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes; The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes; The Hound of the Baskervilles; The Valley of Fear; The Return of Sherlock Holmes; His Last Bow; The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes.

Posted in Baritsu, Bartitsu School of Arms, E. W. Barton-Wright, Fiction, Sherlock Holmes | Comments Off on “Sherlock Holmes and Bartitsu” (Part Three)

“Sparring with Sherlock”

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Tuesday, 6th September 2011

Dutch journalist Erik Noomen wrote this article for the Volkskrant, one of Holland’s largest daily newspapers. It was originally printed on August 30, 2011 and is used here by permission.

Everyone thought that ‘baritsu’, the magical martial art of Sherlock Holmes, was a figment of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s imagination. Until, suddenly, yellowed articles showing moustachioed martial artists were found under a century of dust. Now the first ‘mixed martial art’ is the subject of international attention.

Fans of the Sherlock Holmes stories know that the Master Detective threw Professor Moriarty from a rocky precipice with his knowledge of “baritsu”. In the story The Adventure of the Empty House, baritsu is described as being a form of Japanese wrestling; the word appears nowhere else. Many readers thought, therefore, that the fighting style was invented by the author, Arthur Conan Doyle.

Just over ten years ago two English researchers proved the contrary, when they found hundred-year-old articles with sketches and photographs of jacketed Englishmen with straw boater hats and handlebar moustaches, fighting each other with bare fists, umbrellas and vicious whipping canes.

Doyle’s “baritsu” was actually called “Bartitsu” and was developed by Edward William Barton-Wright, an eccentric engineer who had learned various martial arts during his travels throughout and beyond the British Empire. Returning home to London after having lived for three years in Japan, he decided to combine his knowledge of Jiu-Jitsu with English boxing, wrestling and the Swiss/French la canne, in which the cane was used to hold malodorous Apaches (Parisian street thugs) at bay. The result was the world’s first mixed martial art combining Asian and European fighting styles. With no undue humility, in 1898 the Brit coined the term “Bartitsu”: a contraction of Barton-Wright and jiu-jitsu.

The new trend lasted only four years, then jiu-jitsu took the torch and Bartitsu disappeared rapidly into oblivion. However, that time is over. Since 2009, you may even speak of a modest craze, thanks to the Sherlock Holmes film, starring Robert Downey Jr., which managed to make a street fighter out of the cerebral Victorian sleuth, armed against the dregs of the London underworld with decisive punches and Barton-Wright’s stick tricks.

In 2006 there was only one school that frequently regularly offered Bartitsu lessons. In the year 2011, over twenty clubs and courses are devoted to the sport. At “Steampunk” conventions (where 19th-century machines and fashions are mixed with a modern sensibility), Bartitsu demonstrations are given in late-19th century clothing.

The Netherlands remains a little behind the trend: a total of six of our countrymen practice Bartitsu. And that includes instructor John Jozen of the Shizen Hontai martial arts association in Veldhoven, the only place in the Netherlands where, every week, Bartitsu-style self defence with a walking stick is practiced. Jozen: “Bartitsu is not very practical if someone is threatening you with a gun. You’d do just as well throwing a ball to distract him as waving a walking stick or throwing a coat over his head.”

At the basis of this Bartitsu revival is Tony Wolf, the “Cultural Fighting Styles Designer” who trained the orcs and elves to fight for the Lord of the Rings movies. In 2005 he started organising Bartitsu reconstructions, using self-made rattan canes with steel ball handles. The Holmes film and the stylish BBC-TV series last year, which sees Holmes solve his cases in modern London, have made Bartitsu cool again, says Wolf.

Both projects will have sequels later this year. As seen the trailer for the movie Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, the film will show lots of “Bartitsu-style” punch-ups.

The steady renaissance of Bartitsu during the 21st century stands in stark contrast to the explosive growth of the sport during the late 19th century. Shortly after his return to London, Barton-Wright presented self-defence demonstrations in men’s clubs and for charitable benefits, with great success. Jozen: “Between 1880 and 1920, carrying weapons such as swords in cities was forbidden, hence gentlemen switched en masse to sturdy walking sticks. Not only as fasionable accessories, but for fear of infamous street gangs such as the “Hooligans” in London and the “Apaches” of Montmartre, stories about whom filled the newspapers of the day.” An additional benefit of the cane as a weapon was that, as Barton-Wright said, it was possible to defeat scoundrels “without getting one’s hands dirty”.

In 1899 his company opened the London Bartitsu Club: “a huge underground hall with gleaming white tiles and electric light, with champions stalking around like tigers”, according to an excited journalist in 1901. Most members were soldiers, athletes, actors, politicians and aristocrats. The teachers that Barton-Wright had brought to London were also impressive. From Japan came the jiu-jitsu legend Yukio Tani and Sadakazu Uyenishi, from Switzerland, the heavyweight wrestler Armand Cherpillod and the famous master-at-arms Pierre Vigny, an expert in savate (French kickboxing) and inventor of the remarkable cane fighting.

Although Bartitsu was subtitled the “gentlemanly art of self defence”, not all its practitioners were real gentlemen. Among the soldiers, athletes, actors, politicians and aristocrats who joined Barton-Wright, for example, was Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon. This Olympic fencer would later acquire infamy as one of the few male passengers to survive the sinking of the Titanic, allegedly because he had bribed sailors in his lifeboat not to rescue others in the water (E.N. – Duff-Gordon was later cleared of these charges after an extensive inquiry).

Women also practiced Bartitsu. Feminist Edith Garrud later started her own dojo, which was used as a refuge for the “suffragettes”, revolutionary fighters for women’s voting rights. It was also there that they trained “The Bodyguard”, a secret society of women that physically protected speakers at their meeting against attacks by conservative Londoners. Their jolly nickname: the “Jiu-jitsuffragettes”.

Training at the Bartitsu Club must have offered a spectacular sight. Articles of the period reveal how you can prevail if armed only with your umbrella, or even while riding a bicycle. Photographs show a prosperous lady in a long dress with a huge, flowery hat riding primly on a country lane. She is pursued by a villain, also riding a bike, whom she defeats by suddenly braking, causing him to crash to the ground. In the next picture you see her pedalling away and waving back with an affable smile.

In 2011, however, John Jozen parks his bike every Saturday just outside the dojo in Veldhoven. He limits his Bartitsu training to walking sticks or umbrellas. “Although I must admit my wife is not happy that I have now beaten four or five umbrellas to shreds. Therefore I now buy old canes in charity shops, and sometimes even bamboo canes from the hardware store. These don’t cost so much.”

Barton-Wright was not so frugal. Three years after its establishment, he had to close the Bartitsu Club. Arguments with his famous jiu-jitsu teacher and the small number of Londoners willing or able to pay the extensive fees, made him decide in 1902 to seek his fortune in electric health equipment. This, too, was a mixed success. The ultraviolet lamps and heat rays which he imported were perhaps beneficial, but other inventions such as the Nagelschmidt Apparatus (an electric chair intended to stimulate muscle growth and reduce fat) sometimes made rheumatic patients go from bad to worse.

Barton-Wright died in 1951, almost penniless and forgotten, and was buried in an anonymous “pauper’s grave”.

Today, the sport of mixed martial arts is a billion-dollar industry. Fights promoted by the Ultimate Fighting Championship are watched by tens of millions of fans via pay-per-view and MMA fighters like Anderson Silva, Georges St. Pierre and Matt Hughes earn big money every year.

One would hope that modern fighters would respect the legacy of eclectic martial arts training from yesteryear, but this is not always the case. When John Jozen shows them historic photos of fighters in the Bartitsu Club, their responses are often rather condescending. Jozen: “They ask if you can tell what degree the Bartitsu fighter has gained by the size of his moustache, or whether he wears suspenders.” He must laugh himself. Jozen quickly stresses quickly that he and his students usually practice in modern sportswear, not quaint 1900s-style leotards.

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“A Medium-Sized Malacca Cane, Mounted with a Thick Metal Ball”

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on June 3rd, 2017
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Vigny poses with one of his specially designed self-defence canes.

E. W. Barton-Wright’s “Self-Defence With A Walking Stick” articles for Pearson’s Magazine (1901) offer the most detailed impression of the Vigny cane fighting system during the height of the brief Bartitsu Club era.

A basic premise of these articles was to illustrate different self-defence tactics depending on the weapons wielded by the defender and by the aggressor, among other differentials such as physique and available fighting space.  For example, different tactics were advised for when the defender held “a Stick which is too Heavy to Manipulate Quickly with One Hand, when Attacked by a Man Armed with a Light Stick”, as compared to what to do when wielding a “Small Switch in your Hand, and are Threatened by a Man with a Very Strong Stick”.

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Vigny (left) assumes a double-handed guard opposed to Barton-Wright’s high front guard.

Although Vigny’s system was versatile enough to provide protection with light canes, crook-handled canes and umbrellas, it was optimized for the specific type of cane that Vigny himself developed. In The Walking Stick as a Means of Self-Defense (Health and Strength, July 1903), Vigny wrote:

(…) therefore the cane is the most perfect weapon for self-defence; but in order to make it so, it must possess the necessary qualities, which, expressed in one word, is solidity.

It is for this reason that I have had a cane specially made under my directions which embraces all the necessary qualities. It is a medium-sized Malacca cane, mounted with a thick metal ball, and so firmly riveted to the cane that it cannot come off however roughly it may be used. The metal ball handle is of such a thickness that it will not get dented; but in spite of this the cane is a most handsome and elegant one, and has been so much appreciated since it has been brought out that many people may be seen carrying them.

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The centre of balance of a typical Vigny-style fighting cane.

Thus, the Vigny cane is characterised by an asymmetrical balance due to the tapering malacca (rattan) shaft and especially by the addition of a metal ball at the thicker end.  In practice, this means that the cane handles differently from an evenly-weighted stick weapon; the heavy end swings and strikes more like a mace than like an ordinary stick.

Single-handedly swinging a 36″ long stick with a weight at the far end generates significant momentum, and the management of that momentum has a significant impact on the techniques and tactics of Bartitsu stick fighting.  This is apparent even when the metal ball is simulated by a solid rubber ball handle for relatively safe sparring purposes; hence, the Vigny style’s characteristic emphasis on ambidexterity and variety of tactical guards, as shown in Barton-Wright’s articles and in this sparring video:

Posted in Canonical Bartitsu, Vigny stick fighting | Comments Off on “A Medium-Sized Malacca Cane, Mounted with a Thick Metal Ball”

“Les Secrets du Jiu-Jitsu” (1906) Online

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Sunday, 14th January 2018

A scan of Ernest Regnier’s instruction manual Les Secrets du Jiu-Jitsu (1906) is now available online via this link.

Regnier was a talented but down-on-his-luck Parisian wrestler until he was sponsored by physical culture entrepreneur Edmond Desbonnet to travel to London and train at the Japanese School of Jujitsu.  Regnier’s athletic prowess and antagonistic skills allowed him to learn quickly, and it certainly didn’t hurt that his teachers included former Bartitsu Club instructor Yukio Tani and his colleague, Taro Miyake.

Returning to Paris, Regnier adopted the vaguely Japanese pseudonym “Professor Re-Nie”.  On October 23 of 1905, he decisively defeated savateur George Dubois in a much-hyped style-vs.-style challenge contest, sparking an intense but short-lived craze for jiujitsu in the French capital.  He then established a salon de jiu-jitsu in Desbonnet’s exceptionally well-appointed gymnasium.  Regnier also had the distinction of training senior Parisian policemen in Japanese unarmed combat, but his jiujitsu career was effectively ended in December of 1908, when he ill-advisedly took on the giant Graeco-Roman wrestler Ivan Podubbny.

Les Secrets du Jiu-Jitsu was co-authored/ghost written by a writer named Guy de Montgrilhard, leading to some confusion in later generations as to “Professor Re-Nie’s” real name.  Although it is, in fact, a fairly simple compendium of some basic throws and locks, the fact that Regnier studied at the Japanese School of Jujitsu places the book squarely within the “Bartitsu lineage” and it serves as a useful supplement to the works of William Garrud, Percy Longhurst and other second-generation instructors.

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“A New Uniform Inspired by Uko-Tani”

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Sunday, 21st January 2018

The notion of London bobbies studying the newfangled Japanese art of self-defence clearly intrigued Edwardian cartoonists.  The Penny Illustrated Paper of March 4, 1905 imagined that a new police uniform inspired by “Uko-Tani” – the cartoonist meant Yukio Tani – would incorporate the white shorts that were then fashionable as jiujitsu leg-wear.

Posted in Edwardiana, Humour, Jiujitsu | Comments Off on “A New Uniform Inspired by Uko-Tani”

“… an athletic class for people of good standing …”

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Saturday, 4th December 2010

By mid-1899, E.W. Barton-Wright was busy attracting support for his novel venture; a Club dedicated to the instruction of physical culture and self defence. Late-Victorian London was already home to several athletic clubs, including the Inns of Court School of Arms and the German Gymnasium, in which gymnasts rubbed shoulders with fencers, boxers and wrestlers. Barton-Wright’s plan, however, was to focus the activities of his Club squarely on his “new art of self defence”, Bartitsu.

According to the custom of the day, he set about attracting influential “names”; people whose reputations and social standing would help to guarantee his Club’s propriety in the highly class-conscious London of the late 19th century.

“Fencing and Bartitsu at the Bath Club” in 1899. Captain Alfred Hutton and W.H. Grenfell demonstrate rapier and dagger fencing, while E.W. Barton-Wright displays Japanese unarmed combat.

During a series of popular demonstrations in which Barton-Wright’s “new art” was exhibited alongside Captain Alfred Hutton’s revival of historical fencing, the founder of Bartitsu became acquainted with both Hutton and the latter’s colleague, William Henry Grenfell, the 1st Baron Desborough. Both men were quickly drafted into helping to promote Barton-Wright’s Club. Hutton joined the venture both as a Committeeman, responsible for “vetting” the names of people applying to join the Club, and as an instructor, teaching his rejuvenated methods of antique fencing to members of London’s theatrical elite for use in stage combat.

Grenfell accepted the position of Bartitsu Club President, and enthusiastically described Barton-Wright’s vision for reporters. His comments are revealing, not only with regards the conception of Bartitsu as a martial art, but also of the differences between Victorian and contemporary ideas of what a “martial arts club” actually was:

“The idea,” said Mr. Grenfell, to a “Daily Mail” representative, “is to establish an athletic class for people of good standing, and it seemed to us best to establish it in the form of a club, so as to be able to exclude undesirable persons. So members will be able to come themselves, and to send their children and the ladies of their family for instruction with every assurance that they will be running no risk of objectionable associations.”

“Is Bartitsu, then, a sport for women and children?”

”Oh, we are not going to confine ourselves to Japanese wrestling. Athletic exercises of many kinds and physical culture will be taught, but with this difference, that physical culture will be taught in a new form, which will make it interesting.”

“And this new art of self-defence?”

”Bartitsu; that will be taught as part of the general scheme of physical culture. And you know it is very desirable to teach people how to protect themselves against violence.”

“But does not the noble art of self-defence do that – the art of using the fists?”

”No. In the first place the violent ruffian is likely to be fairly proficient in the use of the fists, and in the second place the stronger and heavier man has an overwhelming advantage in fist fighting. The great thing is to show people every possible form of attack to which they may be subjected, and to teach them how, by the application of scientific principles, every attack may be successfully met. Bartitsu teaches you how to overcome an opponent of superior weight by using his weight against himself, of throwing him by yielding instead of resisting, and of gripping him in various ways so as to put such a strain on his joints that however strong he may be he will be completely at your mercy. Then it teaches you how to fall so that the fact of being thrown will give you an advantage over the man who throws you.”

“It is a sort of physical counterpart, then, of the great financial art of making a fortune out of bankruptcy.”

”Then there are other means of self-defence which are useful. A lady I had the other day was, while riding her bicycle, attacked by a tramp. She was helpless against his superior strength. But there are ways of using a bending cane by which a lady might, if she has been taught the art, keep a molesting tramp at arm’s length. This will be taught as well as several other systems, all of which are not only useful but interesting to learn.”

June of 1899 appears to have been a formative period in the development of Bartitsu. Some elements were already in place and some were still fluid. It’s clear from Grenfell’s comments that jiujitsu was intended to play a key role, that novelty and diversity were considered to be “selling points” and that Barton-Wright was already considering the use of the walking stick as a means of self defence, though he may not have settled on Pierre Vigny’s method at that stage.

Ironically, as it was to transpire, the aura of middle-upper class exclusivity the Club’s promoters were aiming for may ultimately have helped to doom the enterprise. Despite “Health and Strength” journalist Mary Nugent’s description of the Bartitsu Club as “a huge subterranean hall, all glittering, white-tiled walls, and electric light” (1901), pictures taken inside the Club suggest a rather utilitarian basement space that might not have appealed to their “desirable” clientele:

It’s also not unlikely that the promoters had simply over-estimated the number of wealthy, respectable Londoners who shared their zeal for exotic self defence systems. Still, for a few years around the turn of the 20th century, Barton-Wright’s Club was the headquarters of a groundbreaking experiment that anticipated many modern trends in the martial arts.

Posted in Bartitsu School of Arms, Canonical Bartitsu, E. W. Barton-Wright | Comments Off on “… an athletic class for people of good standing …”

Jujitsuffragette interview on BBC World Service Radio Show

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Wednesday, 29th August 2012

Click here to listen to Tony Wolf’s interview about the Jujitsuffragette Bodyguards with reporter Julian Bedford for the BBC World Service.

Posted in Interviews, Suffrajitsu | Comments Off on Jujitsuffragette interview on BBC World Service Radio Show

Yukio Tani vs. the Masked Wrestler (April, 1909)

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Saturday, 10th November 2018

Still popular today in Mexican and Japanese pro-wrestling circles, the “masked wrestler” gimmick originated in Paris during the year 1867.  The original “Lutteur Masqué” was rumoured to be an athletic aristocrat who kept his identity secret so as not to bring shame upon his family.

The same story and gimmick was reported to have re-appeared about ten years later in  Bucharest.  In that instance, the masked circus wrestler was rumoured to be none other than “Prince Stourdja of Moldavia”, grappling incognito; it was also reported that a riot nearly ensued when a careless circus employee let slip the masked man’s real identity as a humble, but muscular, clown and roustabout.

“The True Masked Wrestler” lays down his hourglass and scythe to challenge all comers

Although the mask gimmick remained a rarity,  it entered the zeitgeist to the extent that a masked wrestler character appeared in a 1903 English stage melodrama titled The Village Blacksmith, a play that would remain popular on the provincial circuit for some years to come.

In March of 1909, dramatic newspaper announcements heralded the arrival of a new “Masked Man” (M.M.) who intended to challenge former Bartitsu Club instructor Yukio Tani to a match under jiujitsu rules. The allegedly Continental grappler was speculated to be a disguised Aleksander Aberg, Frank Gotch or even the great Hackenschmidt himself, and was said to have previously challenged the famed Stanislaus Zbyszko.

At this point it’s worth noting that very limited credence can be given to anonymous newspaper reports about the activities of masked wrestlers, perhaps especially when they coincide with tours of a popular melodrama likewise featuring a M.M.  That said, The Sporting Life did its due diligence in covering the M.M./Tani challenge, especially after the two parties met at the Sporting Life office to discuss terms for the match.

Noting as usual that the term “Jap” was not used pejoratively during the very early 20th century, here follows the Sporting Life report on that meeting, from their March 26th, 1909 issue:


“A man of good family, who is traveling all over Europe for the sake of ‘taking down’ some of those wrestlers who think so much of themselves,” is the character of the notorious Man with the Mask, who has struggled with Zybysko in Vienna, and who has been mistaken for Hackenschmidt, Gotch and  Aberg. This description was given to us by Herr Neiman, the M.M.’s manager, who according to promise came to the St. Bride Street office of the Sporting Life yesterday afternoon, .

Mr. J Harrison, Tani’s manager, and Mr. Adam King had already arrived, and Herr Neiman was at once asked what he had to propose. Herr Neiman said he was in London with the M.M. for the purpose of wrestling and beating Tani, and he would deposit with the Sporting Life now £100 or £200 as a side stake in a match with Tani. The M.M. had some holds that Tani had never even dreamed of, and with these he would best the Jap.

The editor of the Sporting Life said that he hoped that no attempt would be made to play this hoary Continental trick on the long-suffering supporters of wrestling in England. The Sporting Life would not accept any money for a match in the mountebank style of wrestling, and it would strongly advise Tani, who had a good reputation in England, to steer clear of any trickery such as a man in a mask suggested. The Sporting life hoped that the man would take off his mask and tackle Tani, and only because of that hope had it allowed the man to meet in St. Bride Street.

Mr. Harrison said he could say nothing of (illegible), except that Tani would very willingly wrestle the M.M. on the ordinary terms – £20 if he stood for 15 minutes and £100 if he beat Tani, but the wrestler must be without a mask.

Herr Neiman then declared threateningly that if Tani not make a match the M.M. would find out where he was and follow him all over the country.

Mr. Harrison, amused, said he would give Herr Neiman Tani’s address, and he was further assured that a bluff of that kind would avail him nothing.

Herr Neiman said the man would not take off his mask for a million pounds, and someone suggested that it would not be safe to offer 10. Mr. Harrison said that if this man wanted to wrestle Tani with a sack over his head, Tani would wrestle him with a hammer in his hand.

We suggested that if the man would not take off his mask, he should as promised wrestle in private, but Herr Neiman declared that the M.M. had never yet wrestled in private and he did not want to start.

Wherefore we are forced to the conclusion that he is after a “gate”.

There being no prospect of unmasking this wonderful wrestler, the meeting was abortive and we shall hear the next news of the masked man from the provinces, where Tani will be performing next week.

All that we were able to glean of the wrestler who affects the mask was that he is a white man , stands about 5’8″ or 5’9″ and weighs between 13 1/2 stone and 14 stone . He wrestles (his manager says) as a hobby and he comes from so good a family that he does not want anyone to know him.


It’s evident, however, that either the colourful wrangling over terms was part of the show, or that actual terms were decided privately, because Tani and the Masked Man did compete in several jiujitsu matches during April of 1909.   The first contest took place in Newcastle on Saturday, April 1st, and was duly (and somewhat disapprovingly) described in the next day’s issue of the Sporting Life:


Wrestling has quite suddenly become interesting, if some aspects of it are not particularly edifying. We have some mountebank tricks at Newcastle-upon-Tyne where we find Yukio Tani, notwithstanding the advice we gave him last week, wrestling the man who conceals his identity, and saves his noble family from the disgrace of wrestling, behind a mask. We are astonished that Tani should mix himself up with mountebank business of this kind.

We have been informed that the man in the mask is really an official of a foreign government, and a good amateur, and that those are the reasons why he is literally keeping it dark. We cannot congratulate the continent on its amateurs. This masked man, we are further informed, is wrestling purely for the sport. He must indeed be a keen sportsman if he follows his Zybysko from Vienna to Lodz and from Lodz to St. Petersburg, and, having taken the measures of the (illegible) to England and hurries up to Newcastle- upon-Tyne after Tani, who in private, report says, once brought the mighty Zybysko low.The masked wrestler of continental fame appeared in a match against Yukio Tani, the famous jujitsu wrestler, at the Pavilion Theatre, Newcastle, last night, and stayed at the stipulated 15 minutes against the Japanese with ease. In fact, the unknown forced matters at a terrific pace for practically the whole time, exhibiting tremendous strength and evading Tani’s frequent attempts at leg holds over the neck. The masked man is undoubtedly an accomplished wrestler, though lacking in knowledge of the Japanese style, and is a splendidly developed athlete.


The Sporting Life’s skepticism re. the masked wrestler schtick was undoubtedly justified – among other things, even if the stories about the M.M. pursuing Zybysko all over Europe were true, there would be no practical way of ascertaining whether he was the same M.M. who was currently challenging Yukio Tani.  However – assuming that the actual match was a legitimate contest of skill – he must indeed have been a proficient grappler, because few wrestlers were able to last the stipulated time against Tani in his prime.

Their next recorded clash took place in the nearby town of Gateshead on the 10th of April:


On Saturday, at the Metropole Theatre, Gateshead, Yukio Tani, the famous ju-jitsu wrestler, met the “Masked Man” for £lOO a-side, in a contest under ju-jitsu rules. The “Masked Man”, since his first appearance in this country, has excited considerable curiosity, and on this occasion removed his mask for the first time.  He had had two previous unfinished contests with the Jap, and the conditions for the third meeting were a wrestle to a finish.

The “Masked Man,” though uncovered, had not had his identity revealed, though it is understood that he is a German, and has achieved considerable distinction as champion wrestler. He scales 14st. 91bs., against the Japanese wrestler’s 9st.

There was a large audience, and the umpire was Mr. Collingridge, of Newcastle. On the last occasion the pair met, the Masked Man was on the aggressive for the most part of the bout, but this time the Jap went on other tactics, and at once led off. He got his man down first, and very soon tried his favourite arm-lock, but he was not strong enough to use it to effect. The first ten minutes of the contest saw Tani doing most of the work, but his heavy opponent was playing a waiting game, and ultimately took a turn at forcing the work.

When the German got his hold he held his light opponent with apparent case, but Tani was much too clever in avoiding awkward holds, and slipped out of them when seemed to be in a bad way.  He tried his arm lock as a  counter-move to the German, but the latter was always safe in relying upon his strength to get out of trouble. After about 30 minutes of keen wrestling, the Jap looked like giving his opponent the head press, but after several attempts he was unable to muster strength enough to turn his opponent’s body over.

After a breather, on the conclusion of half an hour’s exciting work, Tani assumed the offensive, and got a strangle hold, which he was unable to use, however, to much advantage. The German took up the fighting, and for few minutes forced the pace. Tani, waiting his opportunity, however, got a verdict before most people expected it, for, at the close of nearly eight minutes’ wrestling,  he secured a neck lock, which gained him a well-deserved victory. The time of the contest was 37 minutes and 45 seconds. Tani was warmly applauded on the verdict.


Mr. Collingridge, the Newcastle-based umpire, was almost certainly W.H. Collingridge, who was himself a jiujitsu student and then instructor, as well as the author of Tricks of Self Defence (1914).

Despite the journalist’s comment suggesting that this was the third meeting between the M.M. and Tani, there seem to be no records of a bout between the Newcastle match and this one in Gateshead.  In any case, the M.M.’s unmasking for this encounter may well have been part of the terms reached between the two promotions. 

The mysterious hooded grappler’s actual identity was never publicly confirmed and has now been lost to history.

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“Getting the Short End of the Stick” in Vigny Stick Fighting

  • Originally published on the Bartitsu.org site on Thursday, 14th February 2019
Pierre Vigny (right) demonstrates a short-end thrust to the jaw against a belt-wielding “hooligan”.

I noticed that the stick itself was held about eight inches from the end, so that after a crashing blow has been delivered it was quickly followed up by a stabbing movement with the ferrule end, which was used as if it was a dagger.

  • Street Self-Defence: How to Handle the Hooligan (1904)

One of the characteristic tactics of the Vigny stick fighting style is the use of the “short end” of the cane as a close-combat weapon.  Despite not being directly illustrated in the classic Pearson’s Magazine series, this method is frequently referred to in other sources, notably including Captain F.C. Laing’s The ‘Bartitsu’ Method of Self-Defence:

Points are made with the butt end of the stick at any part of the body, the most favourable places being at the throat and ribs.

“Point” in Laing’s usage refers to a thrust as distinct from a strike, and either the butt or ferrule end or the heavier ball-handle end (as demonstrated by Vigny in the photograph above) could be used for this purpose.

Aside from the “backhanded” preparation described and illustrated by Laing, the Vigny style also includes a guard that prepares for a forehand or direct short-end strike, shown in the second of these four illustrations from a 1904 Detroit Free Press article:

The caption for this guard reads:

2) In this posture a blow is delivered from the shoulder, or as an alternative the small end of the weapon may be used as a dagger.

Numerous observers of Vigny’s stick fighting demonstrations at the turn of the 20th century noted his use of the short-end of the stick at close quarters, and especially its effectiveness as a surprise attack.  An opponent who is set up to expect a sweeping strike with the cane may well be taken off-guard when his adversary steps in close and converts the “strike” into a stabbing thrust with the opposite end.  This description, from the London Daily News of Wednesday, October 29, 1902, is typical:

Holding a malacca cane by one hand at each end, the Professor calmly awaited the onslaught of a skilled opponent with a similar stick. The spectator never knew which hand was to deal the blow, the released end moving with lightning speed, and a short hold was taken, so that the assailant, in guarding against an impending blow, often found himself hammered or prodded with the butt.

Favoured targets for the short-end strike include the ribs, face, throat and eyes.  According to the anonymous author of L’Art de la Canne (1912), a detailed survey of the Vigny style:

After which, you advance upon him while quickly turning your wrist, thrusting the steel ferrule of the cane like a dagger into his eyes or beneath his nose. And here is a man … amazed!

… whereas Captain Laing favoured the throat:

Assume “first position,” guard head, then, before he has time to recover himself, hit him rapidly on both sides of his face, disengaging between each blow as explained, the rapidity of these blows will generally be sufficient to disconcert him; the moment you see this; dash in and hit him in the throat with the butt end of your stick, jump back at once and as you jump hit him again over the head.

Alternatively:

A man without a stick rushes at you with his fist.  He will probably strike out at your face or body with his left hand; if so, take up the ” rear guard” position and as he strikes guard with left arm, seize his left wrist, and hit his left elbow with your stick, advance right leg and point with butt end of your stick at his throat, then follow this up by thrusting your stick between his legs and so levering him over.

Laing’s prototype for a new cavalry sword design, which was based on Bartitsu stick fighting, included a spiked pommel for even more effective close-quarters work:

Those interested in the further possibilities of short-end play with the Vigny cane are encouraged to study the video series Bartitsu: Historical Self-Defence with a Walking Stick, which includes several more options.

Instructor Alex Kiermayer demonstrates a short-end thrust.
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