NEW FROM SHISEI-DO PUBLICATIONS: THE ANNOTATED REMINISCENCES OF LAFCADIO HEARN

Just published by Shisei-Do Publicatons

The Annotated Reminiscences 
of Lafcadio Hearn,

By Setsuko Koizumi (Mrs. Hearn)

Edited by Hayato Tokugawa.

There was no one who did more in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to bring the inner thoughts and ideals of Japan - its religions, its superstitions, its art, its way of thought, all that animates its people - to the West than did Lafcadio Hearn. He lived in Meiji Era Japan and became one of its citizens, linking East with West, but received no public recognition, no decorations; yet, the world places a crown of laurel upon his head. Todai moto kurashi - "The foot of the beacon is dark." In this deluxe editon of Reminiscences of Lafcadio Hearn, Setsuko Koizumi, Mrs. Hearn, has written wonderful, affectionate recollections of her life with Lafcadio Hearn in a book that is simply written, almost naive at times, sometimes funny yet at other times almost tragic, providing insights into herself, her family, and her husband and his wonderful writings on Old Japan. This volume is profusely illustrated with color-tinted or full-color rare, antique photographs from the editor's private collection of Setsuko Koizumi, Lafcadio Hearn, their children, their homes, the places they visited and saw, as well as Hearn's own sketches, including those from his final visit to Yaidzu, making the book an even more personal and enjoyable experience for the reader.

Setsuko Koizumi, the wife of famed author and journalist Lafcadio Hearn, who did so much to bring for the first time to readers in the West, true images and impressions of Japan, many of which still form our own romantic imaginings of Japan, came to the author as a young woman and remained for a lifetime; giving him four children and preserving his legacy. Here she has written wonderful, affectionate recollections of her lifer with Lafcadio Hearn in a book that is simply written, almost naïve at times; sometimes funny het at other times almost tragic, providing insights into herself, her family, and her husband and his Wonderful writings on Old Japan.

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THOUGHTS ON TECHNIQUE IN BUDO I

"One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it."

Ultimately, the reason one practices Budō or a martial art is so that one can make the art an integral part of one’s self. In order to achieve any degree of mastery, that is, competence as well as confidence, it is necessary for one to attain a state in which he or she is able to use the best possible techniques instinctively: without thinking. The only way that one can accomplish this is by learning to deal with every conceivable circumstance.

Alone, our imaginations are not always able to conceive of every possible situation; consequently, in the classes I have taught, as an unwritten adjunct to the curriculum, students are encouraged, actually they are expected, to bring possible variations to a situation up to the class, so that the other students may consider and discuss the circumstance and actively experiment with the various ways to deal with it: good and bad. They work out solutions and in a sense the student becomes a teacher. By doing this, it is possible, through slight variation or innovation, to transform one technique into ten.

One must, however, be wary of allowing their “soul to attach itself to a technique.” That is to say, one must not become obsessed, when for example engaged in combat or practice with a sword or shinai, to become solely focused on technique. If one is simply centered on technique, and not freeing up his mind, if one’s actions and reactions are not instinctive, then the opponent will ultimately have the opportunity to not only strike back but to win.

When in combat or practice, one should not think about “killing” their opponent or what technique will do the job, but rather merging and flowing with an opponent and allowing the techniques to select themselves.

Remember that no matter how wonderful one’s technique may be, if one is focused solely on that aspect of their art, then one, simply put, cannot win. Once techniques are learned, practice without thinking of simply striking, parrying, or thrusting. Let the mind go free so that the movements and techniques come freely from within one’s self.

It is a simple fact that once one has trained themself well, their body, arms, and legs will move automatically; that is, without any conscious effort. So, one’s mind will not be overcome by their physical movements and be able to make use of the techniques they have learned and practiced without having to think. Once this state of mind has been reached, no misgivings or wavering will occur. There is no enemy or opponent, not even a tengu or a demon, who will be able to find an opportunity to effectively attack.

One should train themself meticulously and then forget about it. One should toss aside their mind and thus follow the Way without actually being conscious of it. This is a obscurity of all ways and arts, be it Aikidō, Iaidō, Judō, Karate-Dō, Kendō, Aikijutsu, Iaijutsu, or Kenjutsu.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa, Sekishinkan Tokugawa Dojo, and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: FURYU

Fūryū (風流)

The Japanese aesthetic Fūryū (風流) was derived from the Chinese word fengliu, which literally translated meant “good deportment” or “manners. After its “importation” to Japan in the eight century, the word came to refer more directly to the refined tastes of a cultivated person and to things what were associated with such people. When applied in a more aesthetic sense, the word fūryū took on a reference to the refined, even elegant behavior of an sophisticated person. As time went on, the word was applied to all things that were regarded as elegant, sophisticated, stylish, or artistic.

By the twelfth century, with the evolution of semantics in Japan, fūryū began to evolve into two distinct variations. The first variation applied fūryū to more earthy, ostentatious beauty as marked in popular art forms. In the second variation, people attempted to find fūryū in the beauty portrayed in landscape gardens, flower arrangements, architecture, and poetry about nature, normally written in classic Chinese. It was this second “branch” of fūryū that in part gave birth to cha-no-yu or the tea ceremony, during the Muromachi Jidai or Muromachi Era (1333- 1573).

During the Edo Period or Edo Jidai (1603 – 1868), a form of popular fūryū became evident through a style of fictional prose known as ukyo-zōshi.[i] A second popular interpretation of fūryū became apparent in such art forms as haikai[ii] poetry and the nanga[iii] style of painting; an interpretation that advocated a withdrawal from all of life’s burdens. An example of this version of fūryū may be found in the following poem by Bashō :

the beginning of fūryū

this rice planting

song of the north.

A more contemporary interpretation of fūryū, strongly influenced by Zen, lies in the two characters which comprise the term, 風流, wind and flowing. Just like the moving wind, fūryū can only be sensed: it cannot be seen. Fūryū is tangible yet at the same time, intangible in the elegance which it implies; moreover, just like the wind, fūryū puts forward a wordless, transitory beauty, which can be experienced only in the moment: in the next it is gone. Interestingly, several styles of folk dances, yayako odori and kaka odori, have come to be referred to as fūryū or “drifting on the wind” dances and are quite popular.

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[i] Ukiyo-zōshi (浮世草子 ) or “books of the floating world” was the first major genus of popular Japanese fiction, by and large written between 1690 and 1770, primarily in Kyōto and Ōsaka. Ukiyo-zōshi style literature developed from kana-zōshi (仮名草子 ) [a type of printed Japanese book that was produced largely in Kyōto between 1600 and 1680, referring to books written in kana rather than kanji]. Indeed, ukiyo-zōshi was originally classified as kana-zōshi. The actual term ukiyo-zōshi first appeared around 1710, used in reference to romantic or erotic works; however, later the term came to refer to literature that included a diversity of subjects and aspects of life during the Edo Jidai. Life of a Sensuous Man, by Ihara Saikaku, is regarded as the first work of this type. The book, as well as other passionate literature, took its subject matter from writings of or about courtesans and guides to the pleasure quarters. Although Ihara’s works were not considered “high literature” at the time, they became extremely popular and were crucial to the further development and broadened appeal of the genre. After the 1770s, the style began to stagnate and to slowly decline.

[ii] Haikai (俳諧 , meaning comic or unorthodox) is short for haikai no renga, a popular style of Japanese linked verse that originate in the sixteenth century. Unlike the more aristocratic renga, haikai was regarded as a low style of linked verse intended primarily for the average person, the traveler, and for those who lived a less privileged lifestyle.

[iii] Nanga (南画 , or southern painting) also known and bunjinga (文人画 ) , intellectual painting) was a somewhat undefined school of Japanese painting which thrived during the late Edo Period. Its artists tended to regard themselves as an intellectual elite or literati. The artists who followed this school were both unique and independent; yet they all shared a high regard for traditional Chinese culture. Their paintings, most often rendered in black ink, but at times with light color, were inclined to represent Chinese landscapes or related subjects, much in the same form as Chinese wenrenhua or literati painting of the nanzonghua or Chinese “southern school” or art.

Copyright 2010 by Hayato Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

JAPANESE AESTHETICS: Plants in the Visual Arts (Geijutsu to Shokubutsu)

The graphic or illustrative arts in Japan traditionally have relied on the sensitivity of the artist to nature and thus, have been likely to be simple, compact, and modest, yet elegant. Traditional renderings of landscapes, for example, do not display the wide range of colors that is seen in Western oil paintings or watercolors. This same simplicity and grace applies to sculpture as well: delicately carved and small in size.

Plants, flowers and birds, or at least their outlines are frequently rendered in lifelike colors on fabric, lacquer ware and ceramics. The love of natural forms and an enthusiasm for the expression of nature in idealized style have been the key intentions in the development of traditional Japanese arts such as ikebana (flower arrangement, chanoyou (the tea ceremony), tray landscapes (bonkei), bonsai, and landscape gardening. It is through these arts that the Japanese people have attempted to incorporate the beauty of nature into their spiritual values and daily lives.

For the decoration of a teahouse, a modest flower was selected to conform with the principle that flowers should always look as if they were still in nature. The Japanese have sought to express the immensity as well as the simplicity of nature with a single wild flower in a solitary vase.

Copyright 2010 by Tokugawa Hayato & Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

Amatai no Shugo-ryū: Goals, Ki, and State of Mind

Achieving our two essential goals in the practice of Amatai no Shugo-ryu, that is the cutting of an opponent while avoiding being cut and the perfection of character, require an keen awareness of both the physical and mental aspects of each interaction between training partners or opponents. Equally important is the ability to feel the exchange of energy, ki, between the participants. One’s state of mind is critical to this; for, a negative state of mind will interfere with one’s ability to achieve the purpose of each exercise in practice. Anger, impatience and selfishness can limit one’s awareness and prevent them from determining their opponent’s intent.

On the other hand, proper practice does have a significant, positive effect on one’s state of mind. By putting one’s body and mind into action through the practice of kata and drills, while being focused on the key elements and asking one’s self questions about one’s strategy, the tendency is to disrupt anger and promote patience and cooperation. Happiness, patience and cooperation: all make the smooth flow of ki between training partners possible; therefore, each person is better able to react properly.

The more one is able to live in the moment and put aside all irrelevant thoughts and respond intuitively to perceived subtle changes of strength or weakness, the more one is able to sense the ki. To achieve such a state of mind is not easy; however, once one is really aware of the ki component in Kenjutsu, one can then begin to learn to control their attacker’s intent.

This is a valuable goal and it is not by chance that the same qualities one develops in the dojo will help them to become better people outside. Those who truly seek enlightenment, the “Way”, as Miyamoto Musashi put it, try hard to develop specific qualities within themselves: to live within the moment, to put aside irrelevant thought, and to allow intuition to guide them to correct action. As one studies Amatai no Shugo-ryū, they can attain a similar state of mind both inside the dojo and when they leave at the end of the day.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 4): Strategies for 2010

As we have seen, strategy is a plan of action that is intended to accomplish a specific goal. Tactics are methods that one utilizes to achieve a particular end or goal; thus, strategy refers to one’s general plan of action and one’s tactics are the methods used to accomplish that plan. Methods can themselves be categorized into techniques, which will enable one to establish the proper frame of mind and action that will lead to the efficient accomplishment of their goals.

This is so vital to one’s success in the dojo and one’s success in Kenjutsu; however, with the new year of 2010, we should also be aware that it is these same things – strategy, tactics, techniques – which can play as equally vital a role in our daily lives as in the art of swordsmanship. Let us look to Miyamoto Musashi for his insight into this “strategy for life.”

In Go Rin Sho, his Book of the Five Rings, Musashi made two points concerning this. First, that one must choose a goal before one can accomplish it; and secondly, the more difficult one’s goal is, the more effort they must put into achieving it. Now, Musashi’s goal, one he established before even reaching his teens, was (even though perhaps unspoken) to become a great swordsman: the greatest in Japan. An extraordinary ambition for anyone let alone a youth in Sengoku Period Japan.

There are probably few goals in modern life that could compare with the goals that Musashi set for himself; however, all accomplishment, all success starts with goals. Musashi tells us to be ambitions in setting goals; ambitious goals will help one to focus their energies, abilities, and actions to their maximum effort.

New years, it is said, is a time of resolution. With the coming of 2010, we should reflect on our lives, what we have achieved and what we have failed to achieve. We should take the time to think of what we want and can do in the coming year. We should then take the time to form strategies, and determine the tactics and techniques that will enable us to achieve our goals and be successful; be it at our job, in our homes, with our families, or with ourselves. Realistic goals, well-thought strategies, carefully selected tactics and techniques, should make 2010 a good year for us all.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 3)

One might well ask, “What is the difference between strategy and tactics, or between tactics and technique?” Well, they are each distinctively different; yet, they also go hand in hand. Remember, we have defined strategy as a plan of action that is intended to accomplish a specific goal. Tactics can be defined as a procedure, or a set of maneuvers which one engages in to achieve a particular end or goal. So then, strategy refers to one’s general plan of action and one’s tactics are the methods used in order to accomplish the plan.

Methods can be categorized even further into techniques. Techniques, with practice, will instill in one the intuitive response that will enable one to act within a tactical frame of mind and efficiently accomplish their strategic goals through the interaction of the sword.

As mentioned above, strategy, tactics and techniques go hand in hand and thus, often overlap. It is important to keep in mind however, the distinctions between them. Too illustrate, let us consider a reaction to a straight, downward strike with a katana. The basic goal, the strategy, is to cut the opponent without being cut. There are numerous ways to accomplish this particular goal. One tactic that could be employed to achieve this end would be to move to one’s side, then counter strike. A technique which could be utilized to do this would be for one to step forward and to the right with the right foot, whle rasing one’s sword overhead; then pivot back and out of the way with the left foot while executing a downward cut or lateral, decapitating strike.

Strategy then, is something that is accomplished by means of tactics, which in turn, consist of techniques. By being aware of the different facets of each encounter, one allows themselves the opportunity to focus their attention in such a manner that the effectiveness of one’s training is taken full advantage of. By examining an encounter in broad terms, one can determine their goal. By narrowing one’s perspective, one can then determine what tactic(s) best suit the accomplishment of that goal. Having done so, one should then select the techinque0s) which will make up the tactics and then practice them until they are literally done without conscious thought: automatic or intuitive. Practice, however, does not stop there. One needs to practice and practice more until one’s reflexive abilities and knowledge are such that we perform them at the very instant they are needed. One might consider it in this way: one’s goal is reflexive abilities and knowledge that “kick in” automatically the second they are required. The tactic to accomplish this goal is study and practice of the techniques we are taught.

As will be discussed later, the value of all of this extends well beyond the walls of the dojo. If one pursues their goals in this exact manner, one can accomplish great things and have a significant and pleasing upon their character.

Copyright 2009 by Hayato Tokugawa & Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part 2)

To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut is in one sense largely external, because it depends, in part, on technique and strategies which are taught and learned. The second goal, to progress in the direction of perfection of character, is more internal, as it comes from within each of us; yet, it is equally as valid. Both of these objectives are keys to the proper practice of the art of swordsmanship and every subsequent goal is derived from them.

To cut an opponent while at the same time not being cut is, as noted above, a largely external goal. It relates to one’s physical actions as well as to those of their opponent. If one thinks about it, however, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is also a theoretical goal, in that in modern Japanese society, we do not typically use the katana as a weapon. The modern trend is to place far less emphasis on the killing ability of the katana and instead focus on its character as a tool by which one adds or modifies character and self-discipline. It is however, necessary to keep in mind the true, fighting purpose of the katana. One must maintain a concept of the practical reasons for the art of swordsmanship; thus anchoring one to a sense of martial practicality. Each decision one makes; how to hold a sword, how to stand, how to move, how to think; must be based on the actual principles of fighting with the katana; otherwise one’s actions are no longer fixed in the art and its traditions.

Within our dojo, “to cut an opponent while not being cut” is taken quite seriously, both in discussion of tactics and techniques, as well as in practice. Wearing full bogu[i], it becomes a practical matter of not being “whacked” by bokken or shinai – both potentially a painful experience. The intent of such a practice, among others, is not a competition, but rather to take matters one step further in providing a real, tangible means of fixing in one’s mind in the true, practical aspects, traditions, and history of swordsmanship.

The perfection of character, an internal end, relates directly to the state of one’s mind and spirit. It is equally a real goal although difficult to achieve. It is possible through practice to improve one’s awareness, thought patterns, self-discipline, even one’s integrity and ability to live harmoniously within the community, in keeping with the principles of Wa-Dō. Granted, there is no actual need to develop the skills of sword fighting; yet, there does exist a true need for one to refine themselves and to work toward the betterment of themselves and their community.

The more one follows their quest to accomplish the first goal, the more one makes press along the path to the second. Time spent well in practicing kata, in drills, and in other training with the sword, the more the internal goals are achieved. Therefore, when one speaks of strategy, one addresses both the most successful ways to use a sword and the most effective ways to utilizing swordsmanship to fashion one’s spirit.

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[i] Bogu (防具 ) is the specially developed protective armor used in Japanese martial arts, particulary in Kendō. A complete set consist of: men (面 ), the facefask and shoulder protector or helmet; the dō (胴 ) or torso protector; the kote (小手 ) or hand and forearm protectors (long, extended gloves); tare (垂) the leg and groin protector.

The men which protects the face, neck and shoulders, consists of a facemask with several horizontal metal bars, running across the entire width of the face, from the chin to the upper forehead. To this is attached a long, rectangular, thick cloth padding, which curves over the top of the head and extends to cover the shoulders. A plate to protect the throat is also attached to the bottom of the facemask. The men is held in place with a pair of cords, which wrap around the head and are tied at the back. Note that the men is left open for ventilation and thus the back of the head is left unprotected. This is primarily due to the fact that there is no prescribed nor permitted stroke to the back of the head.

The main component of the dō is the curved stomach and chest protector. In its modern form, the dō has a distinct bulge, which helps convey the force of a strike away from the soft, middle areas of the torso. Lacquered bamboo has traditionally used however, molded plastic or fiberglass is now frequently used instead. The dō is held in place from the shoulders by two diagonal ties from the shoulders and a small set of ties at the back.

The kote are gloves that resemble long-sleeved mittens, designed specifically for Kendō. While they look cumbersome, they indeed provide a high degree of mobility for hands and writs in gripping in gripping and wielding the shina (the traditional split bamboo “sword” of Kendō.

The tare is a thick, padded, cloth belt that wraps around the waist and ties under the front flap. The padded flaps that hang from the belt protect both the upper legs as well as the groin area.

Copyright 2009 by Sekishinkan Tokguawa Dojo/Takayama Budokai, Shisei-Do Dojo, Shisei-Do Publications, and Hayato Tokugawa. All rights reserved.

Strategy in Amatai no Shugo-ryū (Part I)

Saya no uchi. Saya no uchi no kachi. Victory with the sword still in the scabbard. The words almost shout at the swordsman, exhorts him, to remember that physical combat is always the last resort. No matter how confident one may think they are, how many techniques they may know, a master of strategy will always find a way to win without fighting. This is a message that is not unique to our dojo; rather, it has been passed down through the ages.

Sun Tsu once said:

To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence;

Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.

Did not Miyamoto Musashi make this a central point of his Go Rin No Sho, The book of the Five Rings? Did not Yagyū Munenori, founder of the Edo Branch of Yagyū Shinkage-ryū from which Amatai no Shugo-ryu draws so much, preach this very thing time and again?

The path to mastery of Amatai no Shugo-ryū, Yagyū Shinkage-ryū, or any form of Kenjutsu is long indeed. Before anyone can achieve success by virtue of intellect or willpower, they must have a deep understanding of the principles of swordsmanship and of a nature which will allow them to act in keeping with those principles. One can only acquire this through constant, long-term practice and the study of strategy; which includes the old texts by those Musashi and Yagyū Munenori, among others.

Simply put, strategy is a plan of action with the intention of accomplishing a specific objective. A true swordsman practices his art with two very definite objectives in mind:

n To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut.

n To progress in the direction of perfection of character.

To cut the opponent while avoiding being cut is in one sense largely external, because it depends, in part, on technique and strategies which are taught and learned. The second goal, to progress in the direction of perfection of character, is more internal, as it comes from within each of us; yet, it is equally as valid. Both of these objectives are keys to the proper practice of the art of swordsmanship and every subsequent goal is derived from them.

CHA-DO: It's Not Just For Ladies!

Even during the Meiji Era, the Era of Enlightened Rule, it was required, pre-marriage training for women. In the preceding Tokugawa Period, its study was encouraged among samurai and its practice the mark of a cultured gentleman. In the current Heisei Era, the time of Emperor Akihito it is becoming a much-sought out weapon in Japan’s war on stress. It is Cha-no-yu, Cha-Dō: the tea ceremony.

Throughout Japan, on any evening, and particularly on weekends, you may find Japanese men, business men, merchants, engineers, academics, gathered together in suburban tea houses, wearing kimono, hakama, and haori, to immerse themselves in traditional Japanese culture and in particular, this traditional Japanese art as a means of shedding off the stress and strain of modern life. How? With what would be termed in the West as a “tea party.” On any evening at the Urasenke School of Tea, one can find an ever increasing number of Japanese men studying the traditions and art of tea; indeed, on some evenings the number of male pupils (largely men over 40) outnumbers women. Japanese people, regardless of age or gender, are rediscovering the beauty and emotional calming effects of Cha-Dō, as a transcendental interlude, a time of peace and re-focusing one’s life. Numerous magazines have recently produced articles, even special “tea” editions, which were quickly sold out as Japan discovers that “new” is not always better and the old ways, tradition, can have a place of significance in the life of the modern Japanese man.

“Cha…it’s not just for ladies anymore!”

The Tokugawa Period: An Overview of the Western Concept

My view of historical scholarship is that of an attempt to write about the events of the past and as such, it is dependant upon documents from the period(s) being studied. I have also pointed out that many historians, particularly in the West tend to “cherry-pick” their documents, selecting records that tend to match their preconceived notions of history. The result is that such written history fails, sometimes miserably, to provide clarity and truth.

I do not exempt Japanese historians from blame in this matter of imbalanced or distorted history, particularly in the portrayal of the Tokugawa Shōgunate and the period of Japanese history that it encompasses, 1603 to 1868; as a period marked by military dictatorship and oppression. In viewing the Mieji Restoration and the years that followed, one can come to understand how such distortions were possible. Meiji historians took on the attitude and viewpoint of the era, an obsession with Westernization. The entire country was lost in all things Western: Western culture, Western technology, Western politics, even Western scholarship. What was past, what was “Tokugawa” was cast away as unenlightened and thus, of no value to the “New Japan” and the age of Enlightened Rule.

With the end of World War II, during the Showa Era, historians both in the West and in Japan, looked for reasons for the war. Ultimately, their collective fingers pointed at the Tokugawa Period, not only as the Japanese dark ages, but as the root cause of the wars that followed the conclusion of that era. Japanese feudalism was equated with authoritarianism rather than the Confucian concept of a decentralized political system as evidenced in the Zhou Dynasty, a concept idealized by the Tokugawa. Certainly Japanese feudalism (hōken) was not compatible with liberal Western post-war views, often tainted by not so hidden traces of Marxism, political correctness and the European 18^th century “enlightened” view of Europe’s feudalism as their own dark ages. These historians thus superimposed their viewpoint over Japanese history, tainting what lay beneath.

Western history, particularly that of Europe is viewed as having three major eras: a classical era, a feudal era, and a modern era. Japanese history is far more complex, with a myriad of twists and turns, hundreds if not thousands of threads interwoven much the same as a fine tapestry. To overlay Japanese history with the restricted views of Western scholarship simply does not work: it is to ignore the depth and character of Japanese history and culture.

In conclusion, one should be more inclined to view the Tokugawa Period as a forerunner of modern Japanese social and political concepts rather than as the dark depths of tyranny. The Tokugawa brought unity to Japan, for the first time, an actual feeling of nation and country, unique in the Asia and the world, which continues to live in contemporary Japanese values.

THE EDO PERIOD'S POPULATION

THE EDO PERIODS'S POPULATION

Do you know how many people there were in Japan during the Edo Period? It is said that there were some thirty million (30,000,000) with the samurai population at about 2 million. The samurai therefore accounted for from 6.7% to 7% of the total Japanese population. At tat time there was no large-scale census conducted on a national level; rather, it was performed by each province and clan, to be recorded in the 宗門人別改帳 (Shumon Ninbetsu Aratame cho, しゅうもんにんべつあらためちょう) or Residential Register.

Edo’s (Tokyō’s) population began an upward trend from the Kaei era (1624 – 1644) and continued to increases through the Genroku era (1688 – 1704), when the population of the city was the largest urban population in the world; to the Tenmei era (1787) figures of 1,626,500, according the census performed in 1721 and then again in 1736. While the proportion of samurai in the national population did not significantly change through the Edo Period, the percentage was significantly higher in Edo, due to the policy of Sankinkoutai (the system of alternate annual attendance between the home of a daimyō in Edo and his home in his fief).

The general analysis of the Edo (Tokyō) population was as follows:

Farmers – 80%

Tradesmen – 10%

Samurai – 7%

Other – 3%

On a slightly different vein:

A scholar of Japanese history at Havard Universtiy, Harold Bolitho, wrote the following:

The Tokugawa Period, in fact, was a time of almost total samurai dominance; they dominated government, they dominated society, the dominated city life, they dominated education, they also dominated cultural life, providing most of the painter, most of the poets, most of the playwrights, and most of all the philosophers, mathematicians, and botanists…there was no government apart form them, no laws but what they devised, and no order save what they imposed.

Note that the word “dominated” is repeated – extensively. This ia a good writing technique by which to instill an image that one wants to impose on readers; yet actually, as I read this statement by Professor Bolitho, I could not but help to imagine the citizens of Japan in a jail, with no means of escape! What a terrible thought! According to the Professor, there was no freedom for the Japanese people; however, what he said was not entirely true; certainly, he need to add some supplementary notes or commentary. Keep in mind that the merchant culture of Edo flourished during the Edo period under the Tokugawa. Such things as Ukiyo-e or Kabuki, human splendor and tragedy there to see and experience in theaters or as woodblock prints found in the shops of the Yoshiwara, Edo’s largest, licensed “red light” district, thrived. Even the kimono was a product of the refined town culture, an outgrowth of the merchant class of the socially stable Edo Period.

It is easy for one to write that the samurai dominated Japanese society, laws, art, culture, etc.; yet in truth, how can a samurai population of approximately 7% dominate 93% of the entire Japanese population. Simple logic would dictate that it is not so easy to do. If 93% of the population was to riot or revolt, could the samurai put it down? Certainly not. Yet, the Tokugawa Shōgunate lasted for over 200 years. How could the Bakufu keep peace in a nation for such a long period of time? Simply wielding the sword and the power of a privileged class cannot dominate much of anything. Early in its history, the Tokugawa Shōgunate found a great way to “control” its citizens. This is not a simple topic and requires far more room and time than is available here today, but we will discuss it again soon; but for now, think about this, using your imagination. If you were samurai, a member of the privileged class, how would you bring peace to Japanese society? Before the Tokugawa Period, your job was fighting, but now that is no longer necessary because Japan has peace. What do you do? Do you sleep all day? Probably not. Nevertheless, if your people do not obey, do you bring them into submission by force? Remember that 93 % of the population watches you; how you speak and behave, solely on the basis of your social ranking. What could the samurai, the 7%, possibly use to control the other 93% of Japan? I think it was their dignity.

Yamaga Soko (1622 – 1685) said, “The peasant’s job is to plow a field, a craftsman’s job is to make things, the merchant’s job is to sell and buy [or barter].” What then is the samurai’s job? Think with all your heart about the question. The true answer will not come by just reading a book, but by also thinking with all your heart about what a samurai’s job was. Yamaga further added, “A samurai’s job is to achieive Jinrin no Michi in the world. Jinrin no Michi (人倫の道) is the way of humanity, morality. Jinrin means moral principle, that is, to behave in a moral way. Michi means the way, path, or journey. This is the most basic principle that a samurai must realize in Shidō a samurai code far different from Bushidō.

More on Tokugawa society and the samurai next time.

Submitted by Aoi Tokugawa-sensei

Copyright 2009 by Shisei-Do Publications and Aoi Tokugawa. All rights reserved.

Musings on a View of History

Musings on a View of History

kishamichi ni
hikuku kari tobu
tsukiyo kana

low over the railroad
wild geese flying –
a moonlight night

-Shiki

The warm days of summer are now gone and the soft, gentle breeze that drifted through the open doors of my study and rustled the papers on my desk has grown teeth. In summer, it would make its way through this old “samurai house,” blending indoors with out, lending a certain tenderness and ease to life. Today, sweater replaces yukata, iced tea is now traded for steaming coffee. Last night the wind shook the closed shutters over our doors and windows, as though demanding entry: equal time with the zephyrs of mid-year. Now our warmth comes from the electric heater and the fire which crackles and snaps from the pit in the main tatami room, on which rides the smoky incense of oak rather than the perfume of flowers and fresh grass.

As I look through the sliding glass door of my refuge, filled with the volumes of Japan past which stir my imagination and answer my questions, only then give birth to new queries, I can see the cats at play in the garden; enjoying the day in their newly fluffed coats. The old puss perches high up on the gate, surveying her domain, as though she is some ancient daimyō watching over her han (domain). The two young ones dart here and there; games of hide-and-seek or perhaps imagining themselves as tigers in the wild; hiding in the now brown grass; waiting for some elusive prey to venture too close to their place of cover. Occasionally one cat ventures out to the edge of the pond and looks in. Yes, the koi are all still there in their places. Then he’s off again to pounce on his preoccupied sibling who just found a mouse. All too soon, the pond will be covered with ice, the ground will be blanketed in snow, and the garden mice will be safe in their nests below the porch.

One cannot help but to smile a bit at the moment, and then I look at the volumes of history that line the walls of my room and think about autumns long ago. Did Tokugawa Ieyasu look out his window at Edo Castle, or later at Sanpu in Suruga, and see similar scenes? Some might say no, he was without doubt too busy plotting and scheming. I think he did see such things and probably thought deeply upon them in his later years. Nevertheless, that is a difference in the viewing of history.



History is merely an attempt to write about events that belong to the past. What is written depends on documents: manuscripts, essays, and articles from the period being written about. Modern-day topics and events are often regarded as being too ordinary and thus, unworthy of documentation except as television newsbytes or a few short columns in a newspaper.

I often find myself wondering how historians, perhaps two or three centuries from now, will regard the last few years, and especially this year of 2009, in viewing Japan or the United States. Will they describe 2009 as a year when America began to once again find direction and to re-assume a position of world leadership, this time for the betterment of the world in general and in particular for its own citizens; or, will they perhaps hold 2009 up as enduring evidence that a once great notion grew too big to sustain itself and its ideals, and in the end failed?

Will they say that Japan continued its socio-political decline, and that its culture continued to erode, giving way to the forces of globalization, just as a beach is consumed by the waves of an approaching typhoon, or will they perhaps say that 2009 was a year when Japan, at last, broke free from the miasma from which it suffered, beginning at the end of World War II? Did Japan at last find its feet and stand up to demand equity with the United States among the nations of the world and cast off its acquiescence to Western domination?

Recently I wrote a short essay on the topic of Bushidō and its core. The article, much to my delight, stirred more than a little controversy and debate, which in itself, was a very good thing; for in my mind, such writing has little point unless it stirs thought and stimulates discussion. The essay and resulting commentary became the subject of conversations among myself and other Japanese with a more than passing interest in Japanese culture and history. Some were outraged by the views expressed by a group from the San Francisco Bay Area: others were simply dismayed. More than one comment was made that they should “admit their shame and end their life.” The comment was also made that some, whose samurai heritage had been insulted, would be more than willing to assist the group in the called for acts of seppuku. Some may indeed by surprised that one’s samurai heritage can be insulted, more than one hundred and forty years after the conclusion (note I did not say fall) of the Tokugawa Era. Most Japanese, even those who we might term as “liberals” are far more conservative than their American liberal cousins are. Most Japanese still attach great significance to their family histories: their clans and their samurai heritage. That is being Japanese.

Certainly, the group, Asians Art Museum, which parodies the San Francisco Asian Art Museum, has every right to express their views and opinions; indeed, I encourage it. Yet, the Japanese who read it and expressed their opinions to me, felt that the group’s views were tainted, that there was a certain “agenda” not too well hidden beneath their words: expressions marked with an irony that does not translate to Japanese thought.

Among the Japanese students of Japanese history, none of my associates regard themselves as scholars but simply as students, since history is an unending process of study and analysis– a process we often engage in over coffee, tea, sake and snacks (we try to do things with a bit of flair), the view was frequently expressed that aspiring or pseudo-historians tend to notice or to select records which match their own pre-conceptions of the past and support (or can be bent to support) their own personal, revisionist agendas; that is, they have an ax to grind.



Certainly there exits confusion about the complexities of Japanese history, even among Japanese. In this particular case, however, we have Western historians giving interpretation to Japanese history. In the West, modern historians still are greatly influenced by 18th century theories of history and long-past Age of Enlightenment in Europe. They still regard the European medieval age as the “dark ages” and as a corollary, the age of Japanese feudalism: cruel, dark, dismal. Certainly some Japanese historians and intellectuals (such as Nitobé Inazo) are equally as guilty of this view, having themselves imported ideals of Western feudalism and overlaying them on unique, Japanese concepts. Add to that a certain taint of Marxism interlaced with the American penchant for political correctness, and the overall result becomes skewed. A result is the compartmentalization of Japanese history into Japan’s “Classical Era,” Japan’s “Feudal Era” or Dark Ages, and the Modern or “Post-Tokugawa Era”, when it is far more complex than that. This tends to perpetuate the selective (and often simplistic) reporting of history: ignoring the complexities of Japanese history, which can be likened to the weaving of some fine tapestry.

Nevertheless, the overall result of the discussions was twofold. First, that certainly, everyone should be free to express their thoughts and opinions, even though it may lack wisdom or good manners – expression is essential. The second conclusion was that Japanese history and its interpretation should be left to Japanese, since the West is not equipped to understand and appreciate Japanese thought and the depth of Japanese culture and the intricacies of its history.

(To be continued)

-Tokugawa H.

Copyright 2009 by H. Tokugawa and Shisei-Do Publications. All rights reserved.