Diego Collado's Grammar of the Japanese Language

In Short

This work is a seventeenth-century grammatical study of the Japanese language, intended to equip European missionaries with the tools necessary for evangelism. It categorizes Japanese morphology and syntax through the lens of classical Latin, systematically detailing verb conjugations, pronoun usage, and honorific particles. While its primary intent was religious, the book has endured as a primary source for understanding the Japanese language as it was spoken and recorded during the Muromachi and early Edo periods, preserving a linguistic snapshot of a society in transition.

The Story

The narrative of the book is one of systematic organization. It begins with the premise that Japanese is a language of profound nuance, particularly regarding social status, and that this nuance must be tamed by European linguistic logic. The author sets out to map Japanese sounds and word structures—specifically the "fifty sounds" chart—onto a familiar grid, even when the fit is imperfect. He divides the language into parts of speech, beginning with the noun and its various declensions, and moves steadily toward the more complex world of verbs.

The heart of the book lies in its exhaustive classification of verb conjugations. There are three primary affirmative conjugations and their corresponding negative forms, each dictated by the root of the verb. The author builds these structures with the precision of an architect, explaining how tenses like the preterit, future, and imperative are derived from these roots. He pays special attention to "substantive verbs" and those that indicate honor, recognizing early on that in Japan, the verb itself often carries the weight of the speaker’s social position. He does not merely list rules; he provides a wealth of example sentences to illustrate how these forms function in practice, even when the Latin-based labels feel restrictive.

As the text progresses, it moves from the mechanics of verbs to the subtlety of adverbs—place, time, interrogation, and intensity. The author provides a exhaustive inventory of words used for measuring time, counting objects, and expressing negation, noting how the language shifts depending on whether the subject is a man, a woman, a priest, or a king. He explains how particles like von or mi serve to elevate a conversation, effectively turning a noun into a respectful pronoun.

The arc of the book concludes with a discussion of syntax—the placement of the nominative at the start of a sentence and the verb at the end—and the various particles that dictate the flow of conversation. The author admits that some of these structures are difficult to translate into Latin, yet he insists on their necessity. By the end, the reader is left with a sense of the immense difficulty faced by the missionaries of the era. The author leaves the work open-ended, inviting future scholars to expand upon his dictionary and grammar, acknowledging that his own efforts are merely a foundational tool for the salvation of the Japanese people.

How It Unfolds

The Phonological Grid The author introduces the gojūonzu (the chart of fifty sounds) as a framework for his transcription. He maps Japanese sounds into a broad phonetic notation, using brackets to indicate where certain sounds do not occur in syllable-initial positions.

The Noun and Social Hierarchy The text moves into the declension of nouns, focusing heavily on how particles convey social respect. It catalogs various first- and second-person pronouns, showing how honorifics differentiate the way a speaker addresses inferiors, equals, and superiors.

The Conjugation of Verbs The middle section provides a granular analysis of the three affirmative and negative verb conjugations. It details the formation of tenses—from the simple roots to complex potential and conditional forms—and highlights verbs that inherently indicate honor.

Adverbs and Interjections The author categorizes adverbs by function, providing specific words for time, interrogation, and affirmation. He also includes a list of interjections for pity, joy, and repentance, which serve to capture the emotional register of the language.

Syntax and Counting The final beats examine the sentence structure, noting the standard placement of the nominative and verb. The book finishes with a practical guide to counting days, months, years, and various objects, illustrating the rigid, specific nature of Japanese quantification.

The People

The primary figure here is the author himself, a man driven by the dual, often conflicting goals of linguistic scholarship and religious mission. He is keenly aware of the "great difficulty" of his task, exacerbated by the persecutions of Christians in Japan at the time. He views himself as a servant of both God and his Order, determined not to "wrap his knowledge in a handkerchief." He is honest about his own fallibility, frequently inviting "learned people" to correct his mistakes and continue the work he started.

Then there are the "speakers" represented in his examples: the King, who uses distinct pronouns like chin or maru; the priests, who humble themselves with the term gusô ("worthless man of the cloth"); and the old men, who describe themselves as gurô ("worthless and despicable old man"). The author also populates his pages with "inferiors," "superiors," and "women," each assigned specific linguistic markers. These figures serve as the subjects of his sentences, revealing a society where every utterance is carefully calibrated by the speaker's rank and the dignity of the person being addressed. They are not characters in a plot but archetypes of a social order that dictates every inflection and particle.

In Its Own Voice

"Because I wish neither to be criticized by the Head of our Order and the Lord our God, nor do I wish this knowledge to be wrapped up in a handkerchief; I want by these two works to help and to cooperate in the salvation of the Japanese."

The author explains his motivation for creating such a rigorous guide in the prologue, framing linguistic study as a religious duty.

"There are many particles that form the second person pronoun. They are differentiated to indicate those persons deserving no honor and respect, those deserving some, moderate, great, or maximal honor and respect."

This passage captures the author’s primary concern: mapping the rigid Japanese social hierarchy onto a structured grammatical system.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is about the friction between two disparate worldviews. It reflects the struggle to impose Western, Latin-based logic upon a language that functions through social context and implicit hierarchy. It asks whether a foreign tongue can ever truly be captured by a set of universal rules, or if it remains fundamentally "other." Beyond the mechanics of grammar, the text is an argument for the necessity of cultural and linguistic immersion as a prerequisite for communication. It posits that understanding a people's language is the only path to understanding the people themselves, while simultaneously admitting that such a goal may be perpetually just out of reach.

Why Read It Today

Readers who love the history of linguistics or the meticulous preservation of lost eras will find this book deeply rewarding. It feels like stepping into a seventeenth-century classroom, where the primary objective is to build a bridge across a vast cultural chasm. You will experience the frustration and the sheer intellectual ambition of the early missionaries, who had to invent the very tools required to study the Japanese language.

However, be prepared for the book's inherent difficulties. It is not a casual read; the text is dense, laden with Latin terminology, and heavily focused on conjugations that have long since shifted in modern Japanese. You will encounter archaic spellings and phonetic reconstructions that may require a patient eye to decode. Furthermore, the work is undeniably a product of its time, carrying the period’s attitudes regarding mission and colonial-era religious proselytization. Yet, for those who stay with it, the book offers a rare, intimate look at the structure of a language that was, for the author, both a daunting puzzle and a key to a new world. It remains a essential document for anyone interested in the intersection of language, faith, and the long, complicated history of cross-cultural encounter.