Donovan's the Roosevelt That I know Part 6

Foreword by Dwight

Would you spar with the President of the United States? Which one? Clinton? Bush? What about the rotund Roosevelt? Well, Professor Mike Donovan was an avid sparring partner of President Roosevelt in the late 1800s. He wrote a book about his experiences in 1909, titled "The Roosevelt That I Know". Mike Donovan was considered one the best practitioners of the sweet science at the time. This section continues with the perspective of caricature artist, Mrs. Carew.

A Good Political Prophet

"So you didn't vote of Parker?" Professor "Mike" looked at me comically and if I had been a man I think he would have given me a playful top on the ribs. "Ha! ha!" Not Mike. Oh, I knew how that election was going to come out. I read a lot you know. I get a great many papers from all over the country, and I knew that a powerful lot of Democrats were going to vote for Roosevelt.

And then on Election Day I ran into a party of friends of mine at the polls, all Irish, who had never voted anything but the Democratic ticket, and they said, "Well, Mike, here goes a bunch of good votes for Ted." "The fact is that President Roosevelt is more democratic than any Democrat. He's a democratic Republican - that's what he is. Why he's got democracy in his blood. Look at his uncle, Robert B., who's a regular old-time sage, or whatchemaycallem, of Tammany Hall. Yes, I always say that the president is a democratic Republican."

And Professor "Mike" cocked his head sideways with a glance of simple satisfaction at having thus reconciled his hero-worship with his instinctive politics. "Has short-sighted any bearing on boxing? I asked. "Not if it ain't too bad. A boxer don't need good enough sight to see the color of the other man's eyes; all he needs is to be able to see the shifting motions of his arms and body" with the pantomime of arms and torso which is second nature to Professor "Mike". "And the President - he is short sighted isn't he?"

"Yes, and he wants to get in close - wants to get right at you all the time." "Did he ever hurt you?" "Did he ever hurt me? He gave me a black ear once!" We live and learn. I had never heard of a black ear before. Professor Mike spoke of this peculiar decoration indulgently, not without a touch of pride. "Yes, I had been boxing with him one night, and brother Jerry was with me, and when we came away from the mansion" - I think this referred to the Governor's mansion at Albany - "I felt a sort of numbness and burning in my ear, just like frostbite, and as it was a bitter cold, frosty night, I says to Jerry, 'By golly! Jerry, my ear's frost bitten!' And I kept on rubbing and rubbing it, and went to bed firmly believing it was a case of frostbite. But next morning brother Jerry looked at my ear, and he laughed and said, 'It ain't a frostbite you've got, Mike; it's a sting!' And sure enough, my ear was all black."

"And you hadn't felt it at the time Mr. Roosevelt struck the dreadful blow?" "No - that is, I did feel a slight sting, but I was so used to that that I didn't notice it." "Have you ever boxed with the President's boys?" "Oh, my, yes!" "How do they box?" "Oh, they are splendid, manly little chaps, full of fight. They come right at you." "Do you think any of them will develop into as good a boxer as Mr. Roosevelt?" "Well, it's difficult to tell about boys. Judging from present performances, they're all going to turn out fine. Why, there's little Teddy, who ain't the strongest-looking in the family, he uses his hands just like his father - comes right in at you."

I think that was all about the President and his boys. Ah, if I only had space and leisure to tell all the observation and humor and philosophy that was shed graciously upon me by Professor Mike Donovan. But, at all events, please be consoled with the thought that the President of the United States will not be harmed by association with good Professor Mike.

Musings
I don't know if I can imagine getting hit so hard in the ear that it turned black and looked frostbitten. I found this particularly interesting since you don't see this at all in MMA, well at least I haven't. Usually, I see the participants with cauliflower ear, which is equally as messed up. Thank goodness for modern medicine.

Another area I picked up on was the idea of association. It could be construed that there was some sort of negative connotation with the President associating with a boxer, a fighter. I guess some people may feel the same way, not necessarily with martial artists, but with MMA fighters. It might be worthwhile to investigate the social construct between martial artists and the rest of society.

References:

Donovan, Michael Joseph. The Roosevelt That I Know; Ten Years of Boxing with the President--and Other Memories of Famous Fighting Men,. New York: B.W. Dodge, 1909. https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=x7QaAAAAYAAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA8&dq=boxing&ots=MYv8NVrKwf&sig=N21fmrbbSTU8P3S0scqcxphbg9M

Nitobe's Soul of Bushido - Institutions of Suicide and Redress

Foreword and Musings by Dwight

Alright I am not going to lie. The topic of Suicide is intense. Especially in this day in age with so much tragedy surrounding it. However, it is important not to shy away from topics and to get a complete understanding of the Samurai as a whole. I am sure many people romanticize about the Samurai era and equate it to something akin of the movie the Last Samurai. That everything was honorable and noble, where the reality it probably lies in a spectrum of honorable and gruesome. Meaning there was most likely honorable ways, but most likely abuse of such power as well.

The Institutions of Suicide and Redress

The acme of self-control is reached and best illustrated in the first of the two institutions which we shall now bring to view; namely, The Institutions of Suicide and Redress of which (the former known as hara-kiri and the latter as kataki-uchi) many foreign writers have treated more or less fully.

To begin with suicide, let me state that I confine my observations only to seppuku or kappuku, popularly known as hara-kiri—which means self-immolation by disembowelment. "Ripping the abdomen? How absurd!"— so cry those to whom the name is new. Absurdly odd as it may sound at first to foreign ears, it can not be so very foreign to students of Shakespeare, who puts these words in Brutus' mouth— "Thy (Caesar's) spirit walks abroad and turns our swords into our proper entrails. "Listen to a modern English poet, who in his Light of Asia, speaks of a sword piercing the bowels of a queen:—none blames him for bad English or breach of modesty. Or, to take still another example, look at Guercino's painting of Cato's death, in the Palazzo Rossa in Genoa. Whoever has read the swan-song which Addison makes Cato sing, will not jeer at the sword half-buried in his abdomen. In our minds this mode of death is associated with instances of noblest deeds and of most touching pathos, so that nothing repugnant, much less ludicrous, mars our conception of it. So wonderful is the transforming power of virtue, of greatness, of tenderness, that the vilest form of death assumes a sublimity and becomes a symbol of new life, or else—the sign which Constantine beheld would not conquer the world!

Not for extraneous associations only does seppuku lose in our mind any taint of absurdity; for the choice of this particular part of the body to operate upon, was based on an old anatomical belief as to the seat of the soul and of the affections. When Moses wrote of Joseph's "bowels yearning upon his brother," or David prayed the Lord not to forget his bowels, or when Isaiah, Jeremiah and other inspired men of old spoke of the "sounding" or the "troubling" of bowels, they all and each endorsed the belief prevalent among the Japanese that in the abdomen was enshrined the soul. The Semites habitually spoke of the liver and kidneys and surrounding fat as the seat of emotion and of life. The term hara was more comprehensive than the Greek phren or thumos> and the Japanese and Hellenese alike thought the spirit of man to dwell somewhere in that region. Such a notion is by no means confined to the peoples of antiquity. The French, in spite of the theory propounded by one of their most distinguished philosophers, Descartes, that the soul is located in the pineal gland, still insist in using the term ventre in a sense, which, if anatomically too vague, is nevertheless physiologically significant. Similarly entrailles stands in their language for affection and compassion. Nor is such belief mere superstition, being more scientific than the general idea of making the heart the centre of the feelings. Without asking a friar, the Japanese knew better than Romeo "in what vile part of this anatomy one's name did lodge." Modern neurologists speak of the abdominal and pelvic brains, denoting thereby sympathetic nerve-centres in those parts which are strongly affected by any psychical action. This view of mental physiology once admitted, the syllogism of seppuku is easy to construct. "I will open the seat of my soul and show you how it fares with it. See for yourself whether it is polluted or clean."

I do not wish to be understood as asserting religious or even moral justification of suicide, but the high estimate placed upon honor was ample excuse with many for taking one's own life. How many acquiesced in the sentiment expressed by Garth, "When honor's lost, 'tis a relief to die; Death's but a sure retreat from infamy," and have smilingly surrendered their souls to oblivion! Death when honor was involved, was accepted in Bushido as a key to the solution of many complex problems, so that to an ambitious samurai a natural departure from life seemed a rather tame affair and a consummation not devoutly to be wished for. I dare say that many good Christians, if only they are honest enough, will confess the fascination of, if not positive admiration for, the sublime composure with which Cato, Brutus, Petronius and a host of other ancient worthies, terminated their own earthly existence. Is it too bold to hint that the death of the first of the philosophers was partly suicidal? When we are told so minutely by his pupils how their master willingly submitted to the mandate of the state—which he knew was morally mistaken—in spite of the possibilities of escape, and how he took up the cup of hemlock in his own hand, even offering libation from its deadly contents, do we not discern in his whole proceeding and demeanor, an act of self-immolation? No physical compulsion here, as in ordinary cases of execution. True the verdict of the judges was compulsory: it said, "Thou shalt die,—and that by thy own hand." If suicide meant no more than dying by one's own hand, Socrates was a clear case of suicide. But nobody would charge him with the crime; Plato, who was averse to it, would not call his master a suicide.

Now my readers will understand that seppuku was not a mere suicidal process. It was an institution, legal and ceremonial. An invention of the middle ages, it was a process by which warriors could expiate their crimes, apologize for errors, escape from disgrace, redeem their friends, or prove their sincerity. When enforced as a legal punishment, it was practiced with due ceremony. It was a refinement of self- destruction, and none could perform it without the utmost coolness of temper and composure of demeanor, and for these reasons it was particularly befitting the profession of bushi. 

Antiquarian curiosity, if nothing else, would tempt me to give here a description of this obsolete ceremonial; but seeing that such a description was made by a far abler writer, whose book is not much read now-a-days, I am tempted to make a somewhat lengthy quotation. Mitford, in his "Tales of Old Japan," after giving a translation of a treatise on seppuku from a rare Japanese manuscript, goes on to describe an instance of such an execution of which he was an eye-witness:— "We (seven foreign representatives) were invited to follow the Japanese witness into the hondo or main hall of the temple, where the ceremony was to be performed. It was an imposing scene. A large hall with a high roof supported by dark pillars of wood.

From the ceiling hung a profusion of those huge gilt lamps and ornaments peculiar to Buddhist temples. In front of the high altar, where the floor, covered with beautiful white mats, is raised some three or four inches from the ground, was laid a rug of scarlet felt. Tall candles placed at regular intervals gave out a dim mysterious light, just sufficient to let all the proceedings be seen. The seven Japanese took their places on the left of the raised floor, the seven foreigners on the right. No other person was present.

"After the interval of a few minutes of anxious suspense, Taki Zenzaburo, a stalwart man thirty-two years of age, with a noble air, walked into the hall attired in his dress of ceremony, with the peculiar hempen-cloth wings which are worn on great occasions. He was accompanied by akaishaku and three officers, who wore the jimbaori or war surcoat with gold tissue facings. The word kaishaku it should be observed, is one to which our word executioner is no equivalent term. The office is that of a gentleman: in many cases it is performed by a kinsman or friend of the condemned, and the relation between them is rather that of principal and second than that of victim and executioner. In this instance the kaishaku was a pupil of Taki Zenzaburo, and was selected by friends of the latter from among their own number for his skill in swordsmanship.

"With the kaishaku on his left hand, Taki Zenzaburo advanced slowly towards the Japanese witnesses, and the two bowed before them, then drawing near to the foreigners they saluted us in the same way, perhaps even with more deference; in each case the salutation was ceremoniously returned. Slowly and with great dignity the condemned man mounted on to the raised floor, prostrated himself before the high altar twice, and seated[19] himself on the felt carpet with his back to the high altar, the kaishaku crouching on his left hand side. One of the three attendant officers then came forward, bearing a stand of the kind used in the temple for offerings, on which, wrapped in paper, lay the wakizashi, the short sword or dirk of the Japanese, nine inches and a half in length, with a point and an edge as sharp as a razor's. This he handed, prostrating himself, to the condemned man, who received it reverently, raising it to his head with both hands, and placed it in front of himself. Seated himself—that is, in the Japanese fashion, his knees and toes touching the ground and his body resting on his heels. In this position, which is one of respect, he remained until his death.

"After another profound obeisance, Taki Zenzaburo, in a voice which betrayed just so much emotion and hesitation as might be expected from a man who is making a painful confession, but with no sign of either in his face or manner, spoke as follows:— 'I, and I alone, unwarrantably gave the order to fire on the foreigners at Kobe, and again as they tried to escape. For this crime I disembowel myself, and I beg you who are present to do me the honor of witnessing the act.' "Bowing once more, the speaker allowed his upper garments to slip down to his girdle, and remained naked to the waist. Carefully, according to custom, he tucked his sleeves under his knees to prevent himself from falling backward; for a noble Japanese gentleman should die falling forwards. Deliberately, with a steady hand he took the dirk that lay before him; he looked at it wistfully, almost affectionately; for a moment he seemed to collect his thoughts for the last time, and then stabbing himself deeply below the waist in the left-hand side, he drew the dirk slowly across to his right side, and turning it in the wound, gave a slight cut upwards. During this sickeningly painful operation he never moved a muscle of his face. When he drew out the dirk, he leaned forward and stretched out his neck; an expression of pain for the first time crossed his face, but he uttered no sound. At that moment the kaishaku, who, still crouching by his side, had been keenly watching his every movement, sprang to his feet, poised his sword for a second in the air; there was a flash, a heavy, ugly thud, a crashing fall; with one blow the head had been severed from the body.

"A dead silence followed, broken only by the hideous noise of the blood throbbing out of the inert head before us, which but a moment before had been a brave and chivalrous man. It was horrible. "The kaishaku made a low bow, wiped his sword with a piece of paper which he had ready for the purpose, and retired from the raised floor; and the stained dirk was solemnly borne away, a bloody proof of the execution. "The two representatives of the Mikado then left their places, and crossing over to where the foreign witnesses sat, called to us to witness that the sentence of death upon Taki Zenzaburo had been faithfully carried out. The ceremony being at an end, we left the temple."

I might multiply any number of descriptions of seppuku from literature or from the relation of eye-witnesses; but one more instance will suffice. Two brothers, Sakon and Naiki, respectively twenty-four and seventeen years of age, made an effort to kill Iyéyasu in order to avenge their father's wrongs; but before they could enter the camp they were made prisoners. The old general admired the pluck of the youths who dared an attempt on his life and ordered that they should be allowed to die an honorable death. Their little brother Hachimaro, a mere infant of eight summers, was condemned to a similar fate, as the sentence was pronounced on all the male members of the family, and the three were taken to a monastery where it was to be executed. A physician who was present on the occasion has left us a diary from which the following scene is translated. "When they were all seated in a row for final despatch, Sakon turned to the youngest and said—'Go thou first, for I wish to be sure that thou doest it aright.' Upon the little one's replying that, as he had never seen seppuku performed, he would like to see his brothers do it and then he could follow them, the older brothers smiled between their tears:—'Well said, little fellow! So canst thou well boast of being our father's child.' When they had placed him between them, Sakon thrust the dagger into the left side of his own abdomen and asked—'Look, brother! Dost understand now? Only, don't push the dagger too far, lest thou fall back. Lean forward, rather, and keep thy knees well composed.' Naiki did likewise and said to the boy—'Keep thy eyes open or else thou mayst look like a dying woman. If thy dagger feels anything within and thy strength fails, take courage

and double thy effort to cut across.' The child looked from one to the other, and when both had expired, he calmly half denuded himself and followed the example set him on either hand."

The glorification of seppuku offered, naturally enough, no small temptation to its unwarranted committal. For causes entirely incompatible with reason, or for reasons entirely undeserving of death, hot headed youths rushed into it as insects fly into fire; mixed and dubious motives drove more samurai to this deed than nuns into convent gates. Life was cheap—cheap as reckoned by the popular standard of honor. The saddest feature was that honor, which was always in the agio, so to speak, was not always solid gold, but alloyed with baser metals. No one circle in the Inferno will boast of greater density of Japanese population than the seventh, to which Dante consigns all victims of self-destruction!

And yet, for a true samurai to hasten death or to court it, was alike cowardice. A typical fighter, when he lost battle after battle and was pursued from plain to hill and from bush to cavern, found himself hungry and alone in the dark hollow of a tree, his sword blunt with use, his bow broken and arrows exhausted—did not the noblest of the Romans fall upon his own sword in Phillippi under like circumstances?—deemed it cowardly to die, but with a fortitude approaching a Christian martyr's, cheered himself with an impromptu verse:

"Come! evermore come,Ye dread sorrows and pains!And heap on my burden'd back;That I not one test may lackOf what strength in me remains!" This, then, was the Bushido teaching—Bear and face all calamities and adversities with patience and a pure conscience; for as Mencius[20] taught, "When Heaven is about to confer a great office on anyone, it first exercises his mind with suffering and his sinews and bones with toil; it exposes his body to hunger and subjects him to extreme poverty; and it confounds his undertakings. In all these ways it stimulates his mind, hardens his nature, and supplies his incompetencies." True honor lies in fulfilling Heaven's decree and no death incurred in so doing is ignominious, whereas death to avoid what Heaven has in store is cowardly indeed! In that quaint book of Sir Thomas Browne's, Religio Medici there is an exact English equivalent for what is repeatedly taught in our Precepts. Let me quote it: "It is a brave act of valor to contemn death, but where life is more terrible than death, it is then the truest valor to dare to live." A renowned priest of the seventeenth century satirically observed— "Talk as he may, a samurai who ne'er has died is apt in decisive moments to flee or hide." Again—Him who once has died in the bottom of his breast, no spears of Sanada nor all the arrows of Tametomo can pierce. How near we come to the portals of the temple whose Builder taught "he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it!"

These are but a few of the numerous examples which tend to confirm the moral identity of the human species, notwithstanding an attempt so assiduously made to render the distinction between Christian and Pagan as great as possible.

We have thus seen that the Bushido institution of suicide was neither so irrational nor barbarous as its abuse strikes us at first sight. We will now see whether its sister institution of Redress—or call it Revenge, if you will—has its mitigating features. I hope I can dispose of this question in a few words, since a similar institution, or call it custom, if that suits you better, has at some time prevailed among all peoples and has not yet become entirely obsolete, as attested by the continuance of duelling and lynching. Why, has not an American captain recently challenged Esterhazy, that the wrongs of Dreyfus be avenged? Among a savage tribe which has no marriage, adultery is not a sin, and only the jealousy of a lover protects a woman from abuse: so in a time which has no criminal court, murder is not a crime, and only the vigilant vengeance of the victim's people preserves social order. "What is the most beautiful thing on earth?" said Osiris to Horus. The reply was, "To avenge a parent's wrongs,"—to which a Japanese would have added "and a master's." In revenge there is something which satisfies one's sense of justice. The avenger reasons:—"My good father did not deserve death. He who killed him did great evil. My father, if he were alive, would not tolerate a deed like this: Heaven itself hates

wrong-doing. It is the will of my father; it is the will of Heaven that the evil-doer cease from his work. He must perish by my hand; because he shed my father's blood, I who am his flesh and blood, must shed the murderer's. The same Heaven shall not shelter him and me." The ratiocination is simple and childish (though we know Hamlet did not reason much more deeply), nevertheless it shows an innate sense of exact balance and equal justice "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Our sense of revenge is as exact as our mathematical faculty, and until both terms of the equation are satisfied we cannot get over the sense of something left undone.

In Judaism, which believed in a jealous God, or in Greek mythology, which provided a Nemesis, vengeance may be left to superhuman agencies; but common sense furnished Bushido with the institution of redress as a kind of ethical court of equity, where people could take cases not to be judged in accordance with ordinary law. The master of the forty-seven Ronins was condemned to death;—he had no court of higher instance to appeal to; his faithful retainers addressed themselves to Vengeance, the only Supreme Court existing; they in their turn were condemned by common law,— but the popular instinct passed a different judgment and hence their memory is still kept as green and fragrant as are their graves at Sengakuji to this day. Though Lao-tse taught to recompense injury with kindness, the voice of Confucius was very much louder, which counselled that injury must be recompensed with

justice;—and yet revenge was justified only when it was undertaken in behalf of our superiors and benefactors. One's own wrongs, including injuries done to wife and children, were to be borne and forgiven. A samurai could therefore fully sympathize with Hannibal's oath to avenge his country's wrongs, but he scorns James Hamilton for wearing in his girdle a handful of earth from his wife's grave, as an eternal incentive to avenge her wrongs on the Regent Murray.

Both of these institutions of suicide and redress lost their raison d'être at the promulgation of the criminal code. No more do we hear of romantic adventures of a fair maiden as she tracks in disguise the murderer of her parent. No more can we witness tragedies of family vendetta enacted. The knight errantry of Miyamoto Musashi is now a tale of the past. The well-ordered police spies out the criminal for the injured party and the law metes out justice. The whole state and society will see that wrong is righted. The sense of justice satisfied, there is no need of kataki-uchi. If this had meant that "hunger of the heart which feeds upon the hope of glutting that hunger with the life-blood of the victim," as a New England divine has described it, a few paragraphs in the Criminal Code would not so entirely have made an end of it. As to seppuku, though it too has no existence de jure, we still hear of it from time to time, and shall continue to hear, I am afraid, as long as the past is remembered. Many painless and time-saving methods of self-immolation will come in vogue, as its votaries are increasing with fearful rapidity throughout the world; but Professor Morselli will have to concede to seppuku an aristocratic position among them. He maintains that "when suicide is accomplished by very painful means or at the cost of prolonged agony, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, it may be assigned as the act of a mind disordered by fanaticism, by madness, or by morbid excitement."But a normal seppuku does not savor of fanaticism, or madness or excitement, utmost sang froid being necessary to its successful accomplishment. Of the two kinds into which Dr. Strahan divides suicide, the Rational or Quasi, and the Irrational or True, seppuku is the best example of the former type.

References:
Nitobe, Inazo. Bushido. The Soul of Japan ... Fifth Edition, Etc. Shōkwabō: Tokyo; Simpkin, Marshall &: London, 1908.  http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12096/12096-h/12096-h.htm

Digrassi His True Art of Defense - The Sword and Round Target Part 2

Foreword by Dwight
Protect yourself from evil 16th century fencing a-holes! The great Italian Digrassi provides a wealth of information to offset any issues that you may have with these ruffians of the past. His journey takes us to part 2 of the sword and round shield. If you haven't read or listened to the past sections go ahead and catch up!

The Defense of the High Ward at Sword and Round Target

For the defending of the thrust of the high ward, it is most sure standing at the low ward, and to endeavor to overcome the enemy, by the same skill by the which he himself would obtain the victory. In the very same time, that he delivereth his thrust, a man must suddenly increase a slope pace with the left foot, beating of the enemies Target with his own and driving of a thrust perforce with the increase of a pace of the right foot. And with this manner of defense being done with such nimbleness as is required, he doth also safely strike the enemy, who cannot strike him again, because by means of the said slope pace he is carried out of the line in the which the enemy pretended to strike.

The Hurt of the Broad Ward at Sword and Round Target

It is very difficult to strike in this broad ward, if first with much compassing and gathering of the enemy, a man do not affair with the circumference of his Target near his hand, to beat off the enemy's sword. And being so beaten, to increase a left pace and further by adding there unto the increase of a pace of the right foot, to discharge a thrust. But it shall happily be better in the handling of these weapons, not to use this broad ward: for the hand is born out of the straight line, in the which he may strike both safely and readily: and before it return into the said line, there is much time spent.

And further, a man is not then in case with his Target to beat off the enemy's sword: But if happily he be, yet (though he be very ready, as well with the hand as foot) his thrust shall never enter so far that it may hit home: For the enemy, with a very small motion of this Target forwards, may very easily drive the enemy's sword out of the straight line. Therefore, he that would change or shift out of this ward, to the intent to strike, must of necessity be passing nimble and ready, and before he delivereth his blow, must beat the enemy's sword with his Target.

The Defense of the Broad Ward at Sword and Round Target

Because in every occasion or accident a man standeth safe in the low ward, I will endeavor in this case, to place him also in the same ward, for the encountering of the hurt of the broad ward. That therefore which by mine advice he shall do, is that he take great heed, not to suffer his sword to be beaten off any manner of way. And when the enemy without this beating presumeth to enter, he must in the self-same time increase a left pace and safely deliver a thrust underneath with the increase of the right foot. And further, when the enemy shall perform, that is, first, find the sword and beat it off, (seeing of necessity if he would enter and hit home, his sword must pass by circumference of the Target near the hand) then, to withstand the entry, it is requisite that he drive the enemy's sword outwards on the right side with his Target and with the increase of the said pace, that he enter and strike him.

The Hurt of the Low Ward at Sword and Round Target

A man may strike in this ward, the right foot being behind, and before and in both ways, he may bear his sword either within or without. If therefore he find himself to stand with the right foot behind without, he shall say at any hand, before he determine to strike, to find the enemy's sword with his own, and as soon as he finds it shall clap to his Target, and strike perforce with a low thrust, increasing with the right foot. But finding himself to stand within, no more with his sword, then he doth with this Target, he shall prove whether he can find the enemy's sword and having found it, shall strain it fast between his own sword and Target, and then shall deliver a thrust with the increase of a pace of the right foot, the whcih thrust of force speedeth: This being performed, he shall settle himself in this, or in either of these ways in the low ward with the right foot before. And as he so standeth in this ward, he may after the same sort strike either within or without.

Therefore finding himself within, he shall provide to meet with the enemy's sword, and with the increase of a pace of the right foot. And finding himself to bare his sword within the  said ward, and with his right foot behind, he shall endeavor to find the enemy's sword with the Target, and having found it, shall close it in between his own sword and Target, and with the increase of a left pace, shall perforce hurt the enemy, with the increase of a pace of the right foot.

Now, all these thrusts, no doubt shall speed every time that the enemy either maketh no traverse motion with his body, either as he striketh, commeth directly forwards, or else being fearful, goeth directly backwards, for it is not possible that one man go to fast directly backwards, as another may forwards. Yet is therefore diligently to be observed in this ward, never to determine to strike, either in the handling of these, or of any other kind of weapons, if (with one of them) he shall not first find the enemy's sword. The which  redowneth to the great profit of every man, but especially of those, who have strong arms, for that they are the better able to beat back the enemy's weapon.

Of the Defense of the Low Ward at Sword and Round Target

All the foresaid thrusts are warded, by not suffering the sword to be found by the enemy with either of his weapons. For the enemy (not finding it, will not allure himself, or presume to enter, without first finding of the sword) may most easily be stroken and not strike, if a man increase a slope pace, (to the end he may void his body from hurt) and with the increase of a straight pace of the right foot, do also discharge a thrust beneath. And after this order he may strike safely, (not only when his sword is not found by the enemy, but also when it chanceth to be found) if he be ready and nimble to make his slope pace, and to beat off, as forcible as he may, the enemy's target with his own sword and target, thereby forcing a low thrust to enter in , with the increase of a pace with the right foot. And thus much concerning the true striking and defending of the sword and round Target.

Musings
It is unfortunate that you do not see many people carrying shields anymore. I believe the only shields used today are the riot and ballistic shields used by law enforcement and the military. In the next section, we will look at a Case of Rapiers.


References:
"Shields: History and Terminology." Shields: History and Terminology. Pitt Rivers Museum. Web. 18 Oct. 2015. http://www.prm.ox.ac.uk/Kent/shieweap/shgenex3.html

Digrassi, Giacomo. "His True Art of Defence." University of Massachusetts and Raymond J. Lord. Web. 18 Oct. 2015. http://www.umass.edu/renaissance/lord/pdfs/DiGrassi_1594.pdf 

Donovan's The Roosevelt that I know Part 5

Foreword by Dwight
 Would you spar with President of the United States? Well that is exactly what Professor Mike Donovan did in the late 1800s. He wrote a book about his experience in 1909, titled "The Roosevelt That I know". Mike Donovan was considered one of the best practitioners of the sweet science at the time. This section continues with the perspective of Mrs. Carew.


Parries a Delicate One

"What sort of a boxer is President Roosevelt?" I Inquired. Professor "Mike" cocked a blue eye at me, wrinkled up his scarred forehead and said: "Did you ever hear Capt. Jack recite that great poem of his, 'Where the Hand of God is Seen'? No? Oh, Capt. Jack, will you oblige with 'Where the Hand of God is Seen'?" Capt. Jack, nothing loath, obliged with "Where the Hand of God is Seen," and for some time thereafter nothing was said about the President.

But after a while I induced Capt. Jack to entertain the Scientist, the Boy and the Chaperon with the story of his life, including his opinion of Buffalo Bill and the evils of cigarette smoking, and I drew the Professor away. He looked alarmed. "Did you ever hear anybody like Capt. Jack?" he said. "Did you ever hear such lovely sentiments, ma'am? By golly! I'd give anything to have his talent. He can talk right ahead without stopping for two hours. I never heard such language!"

Gently but firmly I detached his attention from Capt. Jack and directed it toward the President of the United States, and when I made it clear that I was not going to try to pump him about Mr. Roosevelt's letters to him or his projected engagement at the White House, he was greatly relieved and didn't mind saying everything else that was in his heart.

"But it makes me feel bad, those letters being told about in the papers," he said. "However, the President knows me, and he will know I didn't do it intentionally.. I wouldn't have told the newspaper boys about it for the world. You've no idea what a nice man the President is. He's the kindest, best, truest man I ever met. Oh, I've known him and boxed with him a long time. He calls me 'Mike,' and we're great friends." "Well, you don't really mind if I repeat all the nice things you say about him?"

"Oh, no; not a bit. I couldn't say too many nice things about him." "Is he a hard hitter?" "Oh, my golly! yes. He comes right at you hot and heavy. And strong - why, he's got an arm as hard as a rock!" "Is he a good tempered boxer?" "Oh, golly! yes. He wouldn't be such a good boxer if he wasn't good tempered. Why, he's a happy man. He was born with that smile."

The Professor set his teeth and peeled his lips in an imitation of the much caricatured Roosevelt grin. "He was born with it, and he's got it in his heart. No matter what happens, that smile is there. I tell you, he's a happy man."

Musings
As we continue to explore Donovan's book, it reveals the incredible aspect that martial arts brings to the ego and mind. If you notice both Donovan and Roosevelt treat each other with vast respect and don't tend to gloat about their boxing abilities. Since, they were both older at this point in time, experience probably taught them to let go that ego. Carl Jung once said, "Midlife is the time to let go of an over dominant ego and to contemplate the deeper significance of human existence." I am not saying that either Donovan or Roosevelt got deeper into level of human existence, but it looks as if they shrugged off their egos and just had a great time boxing. I believe we could all learn from that.

References:

Donovan, Michael Joseph. The Roosevelt That I Know; Ten Years of Boxing with the President--and Other Memories of Famous Fighting Men,. New York: B.W. Dodge, 1909. https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=x7QaAAAAYAAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA8&dq=boxing&ots=MYv8NVrKwf&sig=N21fmrbbSTU8P3S0scqcxphbg9M

Digrassi His True Art of Defense - The Sword and Round Target Part 1

Foreword by Dwight
Protect yourself from evil 16th century fencing a-holes! The great Italian Digrassi provides a wealth of information to offset any issues that you may have with these ruffians of the past. His journey takes us from using the square shield and transitioning to this section on the round shield. If you haven't read or listened to the past sections go ahead and catch up!

(corresponding cast)

Of the Sword and Round Target Part 1

The round target would require a long and a most exquisite consideration because it is of circular form, most capable, and most perfect of all others. But for that my purpose in this my work, is to write that only which I know doth appertain to this Art, giving leave to every man to bully himself in his own profession. And leaving a great part of this consideration to the mathematicians and historiographers to reason of his diverse qualities or passions, either who was inventor thereof, either, whether it be a weapon of antiquity or of this our rage, and coming to discourse of that, wherein it profiteth in this our time, (being a weapon so greatly honored and esteemed of Princes, Lords, and Gentlemen, that besides the use there of in their affairs, as well by day as by night, they also keep their houses richly decked and beautified therewith) and considering only that thing, in the round target, among all other weapons which may either profit or hurt in the handling thereof, I say, that the said round Target hath been diversely holden, born and used, by diverse men in diverse ages, as well as the other square target and other weapons of defense, as well as of offense. And there want not also men in our time, who to the intent they be not wearied, bare it leaning on their thigh as though that in this exercise (in which only travel and pains are available) a man should only care for rest and quietness. For by means of these two, strength and activities, (Parts in the exercise of weapons, both important and necessary) are obtained and gotten.

Other some, holding their whole arm bowed together, have carried it altogether flat against their body, not regarding either to ward their belly or utterly to lose the fight of the enemy, but will at any hand stand (as they think) safe behind it, as behind a wall, not knowing what a matter of weight it is, both to see the enemy, and work other effects, which, (by so holding it) may not be brought to pass.

Of the Manner How to Hold the Round Target

If a man would so bare the round Target, that it may cover the whole body, and yet nothing hinder him from seeing his enemy, which is a matter of great importance, it is requisite, that he bare it towards the enemy, not with the convex or outward part thereof, altogether equal, plain or even, neither to hold his arm so bowed, that in his elbow there be made (if not a sharp yet) at least a straight corner. For besides that (by so holding it) it wearith the arm: it likewise so hindereth the sight, that if he would see his enemy from the breast downwards, of necessity he must either bare his target, or bare his head so peeping forwards, that it may be sooner hurt than the target may come to ward it. And further it so defendeth, that only so much of the body is warded, as the Target is big, or little more, because it cannot move the half arm, from the elbow to the shoulder, which is very little, as every man knoweth or may perceive:  So that the head shall be warded with great pain, and the thighs shall altogether remain discovered, in such sort, that to save the belly, he shall leave all the rest of the body in jeopardy. Therefore, if he would so hold the said Target, that it may well defend all that part of the body, which is from the knee upwards, and that he may see his enemy, it is requisite that he bare his arm, if not right, yet at least bowed so little, that in the elbow there be framed so blunt an angle or corner, that his eye beams parsing near that part of the circumference of the target, which is near his hand, may see his enemy form the head to the foot, and by holding the said convex part in this manner, it shall ward all the left side, and the circumference near the hand shall with the least motion defend all the right side, the head and the thighs. And in this manner he shall keep his enemy in sight and defend all that part of the body, which is allotted unto the said target. Therefore the said target shall be born, the arm in a manner so straight towards the left side, that the eyesight may pass to behold the enemy without moving, for this only occasion, either the head, or the target.

The Hurt of the High Ward at Sword and Round Target

Because the round target containeth in it most great and sure defense, therefore ought not any edgeblow which may be easily warded with the single sword without the help of the Target be delivered. Thrusts also enter very difficulty to strike the body, because the target, by means of the least motion that is seemeth to be, as it were a wall before the body. And to thrust at the leg is no sure play. That which remaineth to be done is, to thrust forcibly with the sword: and when one perceiveth, that the point there of is entered within the circumference of the enemy's target, it is necessary that he increase a left pace, and with the circumference of his own Target, to beat off enemy's sword and target, to the end it suffer the thrust so given of force to enter in. And (having so beaten and entered) to continue on the thrust in the straight line, with the increase of a pace of the right foot.

When he findeth himself in the high war, he shall increase a half pace with the hinderfoot, gathering upon the enemy, as near as he may without danger. And being so nigh that he may drive his sword within the circumference, then as soon as he perceiveth his sword to be within it, (his arm being stretched out at the uttermost length) he ought suddenly to increase a left pace, beating off with the circumference of his own target, the enemy's target: and with this increase of a pace of the right foot, to cause his thrust to enter perforce. This also he may practice when the enemy endeavoreth, to withstand the entrance of the thrust, when it is already past, within the circumference of his target.

But if the enemy (as it may fall out) ward this thrust not with that part of the circumference, which is near his hand, but with that which is above it (by means where of his target discovereth his eyes) then he may very commodiously, increasing his paces as aforesaid, recover his thrust above, and force it underneath, with the increase of a pace of the right foot. And this is a more sure way of thrusting than any other.

Musings

The round shield seems a bit more conventional compared to the square shield or target. Again Digrassi focuses on not blocking your line of sight and it would appear far easier to keep your opponent in front of you and react better with a round shield. I believe the curvature of the round shield would allow the user to ward off attacks with minimal movement as well. I feel that carrying the square shield is much like trying to carry a crappy old barn door. The second part again that Digrassi really emphasizes in every section is foot work. moving in and out left and right of the circumference.

-Dwight

References:
"Shields: History and Terminology." Shields: History and Terminology. Pitt Rivers Museum. Web. 18 Oct. 2015. http://www.prm.ox.ac.uk/Kent/shieweap/shgenex3.html

Digrassi, Giacomo. "His True Art of Defence." University of Massachusetts and Raymond J. Lord. Web. 18 Oct. 2015. http://www.umass.edu/renaissance/lord/pdfs/DiGrassi_1594.pdf 

Donovan's The Roosevelt That I know Part 4

Foreword by Dwight

Damn, Roosevelt has a strong chin! Would you spar with President of the United States? Well that is exactly what Professor Mike Donovan did in the late 1800s. He wrote a book about his experience in 1909, titled "The Roosevelt That I know". Mike Donovan was considered one of the best practitioners at the time. This section continues with the perspective of Mrs. Carew.

(Corresponding Podcast)

The Roosevelt That I know Part 4

He went on to tell how his brother Jerry, who seems to have been a 

famous fighter before him, tried to discourage him from exercising this inborn tendency, and gave him many a thrashing for fighting other small boys, and made him very sore at heart, as well as elsewhere, until one day somebody remonstrated with Jerry, saying, “Jerry, what makes you at so mean to that kid? He'll grow up and be a credit to you if you treat him right, but if you go on pounding him like that, people will think you're afraid of his cutting you out some day.” After which the Sparten Jerry ceased from troubling, and the infant Mike made prodigious strides in the art of fighting. The scientist questioned him about his first fight, and how he felt over it. “Golly! I was the proudest thing you ever saw!” exclaimed the Professor. “Did you win?” “No, I lost on a foul, but it wasn't my fault.

You see, I didn't know the rules properly, and when the other fellow kept 

dropping on his knees to escape punishment it made me mad, and I just picked him up and walloped him good, like this” - and the Professor threw his arm around an imaginary neck, dragged an imaginary head up to the level of his hip and bombarded an imaginary face with his left. 

There were more reminiscences of Fistiana, and I wish I had time to repeat

some of them. And there were learned disquisitions on the finer points of the art and on the comparative advantages of globes and bare knuckles. Briefly, a more cutting blow can be delivered with the knuckles, but a harder and perhaps more damaging one with a glove, because the hand is protected from injury, and a man accustomed to boxing with gloves is in great danger of disabling his hands if he become involved in an impromptu fight with bare hands, because his tendency will be to strike recklessly hard. 

Moreover, Professor Donovan's experience goes to show that a boxer's 

training hampers him in a street fight, because he instinctively observes the rules of fair play, greatly to his own detriment. There was a story illustrating this and I wish I had time to tell it in his own words. He was set upon by a gang of roughs while walking home from the New York Athletic Club, and having spent the day sparring with young stockbrokers and the like, he was very tired.

“Golly! I was tired,” he said. “I was so tired that I walked along with my shoulders bent like an old man.”

I could imagine what he looked like a nice, venerable little old gentlemen dragging himself home to a supper of gruel and dry toast. No feminine pen could do justice to that Homeric combat. Not that Professor Donovan narrated it Homerically. He was strictly technical, but one could read between the lines that it was a showy affair. I forget how many men in buckram there were, but our Professor had knocked down a few of them and never thought of kicking or hitting below the belt, til suddenly he was overthrown by reinforcements and given a terrific kicking. And even then there was fight left in him to such an extent that when a policeman appeared he was in danger of being taken for the aggressor if a sympathetic bystander had not explained that the old gentleman had not started the fight – a climax which the Professor unfolded with much humor.

Musings

So many good parts of this section. First, the mythical place of Fistiana. Absolutely wonderful, where only boxers live to punch each other in the head all day. Secondly, it the section about bare knuckle fighting and how you can hurt your hands is great to note this far back in time. In reminds me of all those old episodes of McGuyver. Every time he punched somebody with his bare hand, it ALWAYS hurt. Lastly, sport combat is not street combat. Even though it seems like Donovan survived, his muscle memory and training blinded his street fighting abilities and he could have easily been hurt or even killed.

References:
Donovan, Michael Joseph. The Roosevelt That I Know; Ten Years of Boxing with the President--and Other Memories of Famous Fighting Men,. New York: B.W. Dodge, 1909. https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=x7QaAAAAYAAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA8&dq=boxing&ots=MYv8NVrKwf&sig=N21fmrbbSTU8P3S0scqcxphbg9M

Nitobe's Soul of Japan Bushido - Education and Training a Samurai

Foreword by Dwight

In this section, Inazo Nitobe discusses the training and education of the samurai class. He discusses the social patterns that samurai took almost no part in, such as finance, mathematics, and science. The samurai are all about action and a little less science.

(Corresponding cast)

Nitobe's Education and Training a Samurai

Life being regarded as the means whereby to serve his master, and its ideal being set upon honor, the whole education and training of a samurai, were conducted  accordingly. The first point to observe in knightly pedagogics was to build up  character, leaving in the shade the subtler faculties of prudence, intelligence and dialectics. We have seen the important part aesthetic accomplishments played in his education. Indispensable as they were to a man of culture, they were accessories rather than essentials of samurai training. Intellectual superiority was, of course, esteemed; but the word Chi, which was employed to denote intellectuality, meant wisdom in the first instance and placed knowledge only in a very subordinate place. The tripod that supported the framework of Bushido was said to be Chi, Jin, Yu, respectively Wisdom, Benevolence, and Courage. A samurai was essentially a man of action. Science was without the pale of his activity. He took advantage of it in so far as it concerned his profession of arms.

Religion and theology were relegated to the priests; he concerned himself with them in so far as they helped to nourish courage. Like an English poet the samurai believed "'tis not the creed that saves the man; but it is the man that justifies the creed." Philosophy and literature formed the chief part of his intellectual training; but even in the pursuit of these, it was not objective truth that he strove after,—literature was pursued mainly as a pastime, and philosophy as a practical aid in the formation of character, if not for the exposition of some military or political problem.

From what has been said, it will not be surprising to note that the curriculum of studies, according to the pedagogics of Bushido, consisted mainly of the following,— fencing, archery, jiujutsu oryawara, horsemanship, the use of the spear, tactics, caligraphy, ethics, literature and history. Of these, jiujutsu and caligraphy may require a few words of explanation. Great stress was laid on good writing, probably because our logograms, partaking as they do of the nature of pictures, possess artistic value, and also because chirography was accepted as indicative of one's personal character. Jiujutsu may be briefly defined as an application of anatomical knowledge to the purpose of offense or defense. It differs from wrestling, in that it does not depend upon muscular strength. It differs from other forms of attack in that it uses no weapon. Its feat consists in clutching or striking such part of the enemy's body as will make him numb and incapable of resistance. Its object is not to kill, but to incapacitate one for action for the time being.

A subject of study which one would expect to find in military education and which is rather conspicuous by its absence in the Bushido course of instruction, is mathematics. This, however, can be readily explained in part by the fact that feudal warfare was not carried on with scientific precision. Not only that, but the whole training of the samurai was unfavorable to fostering numerical notions.

Chivalry is uneconomical; it boasts of penury. It says with Ventidius that "ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him." Don Quixote takes more pride in his rusty spear and skin-and-bone horse than in gold and lands, and a samurai is in hearty sympathy with his exaggerated confrère of La Mancha. He disdains money itself,—the art of making or hoarding it. It is to him veritably filthy lucre. The hackneyed expression to describe the decadence of an age is "that the civilians loved money and the soldiers feared death." Niggardliness of gold and of life excites as much disapprobation as their lavish use is panegyrized. "Less than all things," says a current precept, "men must grudge money: it is by riches that wisdom is hindered." Hence children were brought up with utter disregard of economy. It was considered bad taste to speak of it, and ignorance of the value of different coins was a token of good breeding. Knowledge of numbers was indispensable in the mustering of forces as well, as in the distribution of benefices and fiefs; but the counting of money was left to meaner hands. In many feudatories, public finance was administered by a lower kind of samurai or by priests. Every thinking bushi knew well enough that money formed the sinews of war; but he did not think of  raising the appreciation of money to a virtue. It is true that thrift was enjoined by Bushido, but not for economical reasons so much as for the exercise of abstinence.

Luxury was thought the greatest menace to manhood, and severest simplicity was required of the warrior class, sumptuary laws being enforced in many of the clans. We read that in ancient Rome the farmers of revenue and other financial agents were gradually raised to the rank of knights, the State thereby showing its appreciation 0f their service and of the importance of money itself. How closely this was connected with the luxury and avarice of the Romans may be imagined. Not so with the Precepts of Knighthood. These persisted in systematically regarding finance as something low—low as compared with moral and intellectual vocations.

Money and the love of it being thus diligently ignored, Bushido itself could long remain free from a thousand and one evils of which money is the root. This is sufficient reason for the fact that our public men have long been free from corruption; but, alas, how fast plutocracy is making its way in our time and generation! The mental discipline which would now-a-days be chiefly aided by the study of mathematics, was supplied by literary exegesis and deontological discussions. Very few abstract subjects troubled the mind of the young, the chief aim of their education being, as I have said, decision of character. People whose minds were simply stored with information found no great admirers. Of the three services of studies that Bacon gives,—for delight, ornament, and ability,—Bushido had decided preference for the last, where their use was "in judgment and the disposition of business." Whether it was for the disposition of public business or for the exercise of self-control, it was with a practical end in view that education was conducted. "Learning without thought," said Confucius, "is labor lost: thought without learning is perilous."

When character and not intelligence, when the soul and not the head, is chosen by a teacher for the material to work upon and to develop, his vocation partakes of a sacred character. "It is the parent who has borne me: it is the teacher who makes me man." With this idea, therefore, the esteem in which one's preceptor was held was very high. 

A man to evoke such confidence and respect from the young, must necessarily be endowed with superior personality without lacking erudition. He was a father to the fatherless, and an adviser to the erring. "Thy father and thy mother"—so runs our maxim—"are like heaven and earth; thy teacher and thy lord are like the sun and moon."

The present system of paying for every sort of service was not in vogue among the adherents of Bushido. It believed in a service which can be rendered only without money and without price. Spiritual service, be it of priest or teacher, was not to be repaid in gold or silver, not because it was valueless but because it was invaluable. Here the non-arithmetical honor-instinct of Bushido taught a truer lesson than modern Political Economy; for wages and salaries can be paid only for services whose results are definite, tangible, and measurable, whereas the best service done in education,— namely, in soul development (and this includes the services of a pastor), is not definite, tangible or measurable. Being immeasurable, money, the ostensible measure of value, is of inadequate use. Usage sanctioned that pupils brought to their teachers money or goods at different seasons of the year; but these were not payments out offerings, which indeed were welcome to the recipients as they were usually men of stern caliber, boasting of honorable penury, too dignified to work with their hands and too proud to beg. They were grave personifications of high spirits undaunted by adversity.

Musings

Absolutely fascinating section. Just as we discovered that the French and Italians applied math and science to the fencing arts, the Japanese went for more of the action over science. Obviously, a vast generalization, but that seems to be the case after reading this section. Also the Samurai incorporated calligraphy, poetry and philosophy into their training, which is why I think many people romanticize about the Samurai. Not only warriors, but mindful and artistic.