Yesterday I once again had the pleasure to chat with Dr. Manouchehr Khorasani on Razmafzar TV. This time we discussed the sabre system of Giuseppe Radaelli (d. 1882) and its legacy. I was lucky to have Mike Cherba from Northwest Armizare present to help demonstrate some of the key features of the system. In part 1 of the interview we discuss Radaelli, the works on his system, and his period. Part 2, coming soon, will share the demonstration portion.
https://youtu.be/7V1BZBNBs6s
HAMAA’s First Brick & Mortar Space
My friend and colleague, Da’Mon Stith, one of the key figures in promoting HAMAA: The Historical African Martial Arts Association, is doing important work, the sort that goes well beyond just learning how to use swords or practice stick arts. They do a LOT of outreach in Austin and one of their goals is to create a space for those who can’t always enjoy these things.
Historical Martial Arts, generally, is expensive and thus prohibitive for many people, but Da’Mon and crew have developed programs and approaches that mean many more people can dive in and experience all the history, culture, and fun that comes with studying historical combat. If you’re looking for a good cause, and have a little funding to spare, please consider contributing to their project.
https://youtu.be/dD6I9Na7rs8
Attempting to Realize “Realism”
In historical fencing we place significant weight on the concept of “realism,” here defined as fencing as accurately as we can both in the sense of treating the blade as if sharp and in attempting to fight as closely as one can to the dictates of the system we study. However, outside the lunatic fringe, we also fence as safely as possible. One of the frequent observations I’ve shared here is that our sense of safety affects how effectively we accomplish this. Without fear we are prone to make actions we might not were we fighting in earnest. Short of expensive medical bills, law suits, and jail time, however, there is only so much we can do about it. It’s daft not to wear gear—as I tell kids “eyes don’t grow back”—so we are left with cultivating a strong sense of awareness. It’s not an ideal solution, but the effort isn’t wasted. The proper mindset, and awareness of how our study is hobbled, only improves our understanding and hopefully our interpretations. This subject popped up again for me recently during a rapier lesson and got me thinking about all this in more detail.
To date, I’ve covered this in a general way, mentioning the problem and suggesting that we would do well to keep it in mind. However, a natural question is how; how is one to cultivate this sense and where? Do we think this way all the time, just with certain maneuvers, or only in certain contexts?
‘Tis but a Scratch!
Arguably one of the more serious failures we make in historical fencing is downplaying the effect, physical and psychological, even a non-lethal wound has on a person. More than once I’ve mentioned the kitchen or craft-knife accident, but a shot to the face by a hard ball, the lacrosse stick that misses pads and jabs an arm, the toe that meets a furniture corner, and the car-door that smashes a finger all ought to remind us that even “minor” injuries can ruin our day. I’m not the only person who believes we need to remember this—just his past week Matt Easton of Schola Gladitoria posted a video that discusses a number of examples of how non-lethal wounds can affect us. [1]
Somehow, however, once we don a mask we can forget this. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard someone say “oh that was just my arm” or “meh, you only stabbed my hand,” and yet were we to have a finger smashed or an arm broken or cut-deeply I doubt we’d brush it off so casually. Having broken most of my fingers at some point, having had a near-compound fracture in my dominant arm, and having had stitches for deep wounds I know myself that sometimes one can keep going, and, sometimes one is rendered hors d’combat. I’ve fought on, twice, after having a finger smashed so badly it was bleeding, but only because I didn’t realize how bad it was. Once I did realize it I stopped fighting. I’ve also been bruised hard enough to stop a fight: I literally couldn’t hold the weapon after that hit. The context is important.
We cannot know, in many cases, how we would react in these situations, but even so we need to be mindful of the fact that even a so-called minor wound might stop a fight, incapacitate us, or freak us out enough that the fight would effectively be over. We forget this to our peril if we’re truly trying to fence as realistically as we can. While “HEMA” talks a lot about the after-blow, a shot made after one’s own that lands, we ought to be just as concerned about the incontro, the double, about being hit as we make our attack.
The Role of Teaching
Everything we teach should be in accordance with the source tradition we work in, but it also must abide the reality principle. If we are teaching anything without a concomitant concern for self-preservation, then we’re doing it the wrong way. It’s not just about making the touch, but doing so in such a way that one is not hit in the process. This will feel and present very differently than much of what we see today in historical fencing. It requires us to be more conservative, less aggressive from the off, and far more cautious.
To illustrate this I want to take a look at a few common aspects of most fencing: for offense, feints and beats; for defense the parry/riposte and attacks in tempo. Some of these I’ve mentioned before, but not in one place nor in this specific context. Regardless of consideration of technique or its application, however, we need to revisit what “don’t be hit” means as a guiding principle when making these common actions. How we teach them is everything.
Offense: Feints
Feints are what we often call “fake-outs” in colloquial American English. They are actions we make to force an opponent to move their blade out of the way so we can strike them in a specific line. They are not easy to do. On the one hand there is the technical aspect, the individual motions the fingers, hand, and arm make, the changing of lines, the false strike and real one, but on the other are the critical issues of measure and timing. When we teach feints we focus first on finding the right measure from which to start the feint—in brief, it needs to be made close enough to get the opponent to react, but just far enough out that one can change the line. Depending on the instructor the fine-tuning with this can be extremely specific. For a feint to work it must be convincing, but our sense of safety with a mask and trainer versus no mask and a sharp begs the question of whether we’d react even to a poor feint if it was close enough.
In examining two of Marcelli’s guards, mezzaluna and porto di ferro, last week, my friend Ken Jay and I realized something that might temper the specificity we normally apply to feints. [2] These guards, hallmarks of the Neapolitan School according to Terracusa e Ventura (ca. 1725), are stout positions. [3] Mezzaluna forces an opponent to the low line; porto di ferro, on the other hand, forces them to the high line. Rapier and dagger, deservedly, represent some of the best expressions of western swordplay, and these two guards, in our experience anyway, force one to pay close attention not only to distance and timing, but also to the nature of the attack: a simple attack will rarely succeed, and a compound one, while more likely to meet with success, can likewise be defeated thanks to the defense-in-depth provided by the dagger.
Ken observed, after I made a feint from slightly out of distance, that were my weapon sharp he might still have attempted to parry. This statement really got me thinking. In jackets, with masks, and armed with rebated rapiers neither of us is trying to be hit, but we’re not worried about what happens if we are either. We are not afraid.
This is a point worth long consideration—how perfect does a feint have to be if the weapon is sharp, the person wielding it keen to do us harm, and our own natural aversion to pain in play? Certainly training helps, but more so would experience. By the latter I mean having faced similar situations and having emerged from them unscathed. To do so would, with good reason, build confidence in one’s ability as well as a sense of how far out one can make a feint. However sure of oneself, a sharp point is a sharp point and so unless completely sure the prudent thing to do would be to react, in this case perhaps to take a half step back or off-line and parry, knowing that what looks like an attack might in fact be a feint or vice-versa. Would we take the chance and guess or play it safe? This is where experience and drill can make all the difference.
Beats
If one has spent time in Olympic fencing then one has likely learned a few different ways to effect beats. A beat is a sharp knock to the opposing steel using one’s weapon to deviate it from the line. Where a feint forces the opponent to open the line themselves, a beat is a way for us to force them to shift lines. In Olympic fencing, however, the concern is less over removing the steel from a specific line than it is in establishing right of way (ROW). This is a major difference, and for those of us who came up initially in the sport, it means a shift in view when using beats with period weapons. In the sport, making the beat regardless of shifting the weapon is sufficient to establish ROW—it’s symbolic.
Returning to Marcelli and rapier, facing an opponent in mezzaluna one can beat the rapier, but it’s not enough to make contact and strike. We may or may not have removed the steel: the opponent might replace it quickly after the beat; and of course they have the dagger waiting to intercept too. A beat from the retracted terza/third used in mezzaluna, against the inside line of a similarly held weapon, may move the weapon, but chances are high that one’s opponent will replace the line easily and quickly and thus negate the effort. Significantly, Marcelli touches on this issue in Part II, Book I, Ch. 12, “The Beats with the Sword” in Rules of Fencing.
I have not found a better occasion for making the beats than that, which is encountered in the Fourth Guard, in which the opponent’s point is found convenient for making this action. Although it can be practiced against all the other guards, nevertheless it is made more securely against this, or against any other that keeps the point of the sword forward. So then, he is always found ready to beat the opposing sword, with it standing forward, it stands separated from the defense of the dagger and stands more apt for this action. This cannot be done with such ease in the other, narrower and more united, guards because in those the opposing sword’s point is found defended by the dagger, and going to beat it, the opponent can easily be given the opportunity to take the Cavaliere’s sword with the dagger and would him with the time thrust.
[Occasione migliore per far le Toccate, Io non trovo di quella, che s’incontra nella Quarta Guardia, nella quale si trova commode la punta del nemico per farli questa attione; e benche contro tutte le alter Guardie si possa pratticare, con tuttociò più sicuramente si fà contro di questa, o contro di qual sivoglia altra, che tenga la pūta della spade avanti. Posciache all’hora si trova la spada nemica sempre pronta à toccarla, mentre con lo stare avanti, stà disunita dalla disesa del pugnale, e stà piu adattata per questa attione. Lo che non può farsi con tanta facilatà nelle alter Guardie più ristrettte., e piu unite, per che in quelle la punta della spada nemica so trova disesa dal pugnale, e con l’andare a toccaria, si potrebbe facilmente dar occasione al sopradetto di precarli la sua Spada co’l pugnale, e di offenderlo con li suoi Tempi.] [4]
Time spent working this sword (and dagger) in hand proves the wisdom in Marcelli’s caution. His Fourth guard, being more extended, is a safer bet for a beat than either mezzaluna or porto di ferro—with those, the beat may be a decent preparatory action, but on its own it’s not likely to succeed, not without one also being hit.
Marcelli goes on to explain that just as with feints, the strike must follow immediately after the beat is made. There is the danger that the opponent’s dagger will intercept, so any delay only increases the chances the beat-attack will fail. The beat may disorient, but that is not enough—it must clear the line sufficiently or one risks getting spiked making the attack. The most successful beats we have found were against the sword, but then delivered to the dagger hand with a shift to the side, or, followed by a feint. With the layered defense provided by rapier and dagger compound attacks are crucial. It’s not that simple attacks can’t work, but that against a skilled opponent they are harder to achieve. We have also found that beats from the outside line which drive an opponent’s rapier toward the inside line tend to work better—not only does it open the line more securely (there is no dagger), but also it’s easier to make the thrust and close-out the opposing weapon. Conversely, those beat-attacks we made on the inside to the inside were far more likely to be parried or earn us a spike as we closed the attack.
Defense: Parry/Ripostes
In teaching people to parry, we are attempting to impart to them an action which has a lot of moving pieces, all of which must work in concert, and which not only must begin at the right distance, but start at the correct time. The concept is simple—“stop the other sword”—but the execution is complex. A parry by itself might preserve one, but on its own does nothing to offend the opponent, and so we generally make a riposte afterwards. There is, in short, a lot that can go terribly wrong before one ever sets foot on the piste or in the ring.
Of all the ways to parry, simultaneous parry-ripostes, which block and strike at the same time—what Marcelli calls the “parries in tempo” (Parate in Tempo; 267pdf)—represent a sort of Platonic ideal of a parry for thrust-oriented systems. Marcelli writes:
The parries in tempo are none other than direct thrusts performed in the tempo that the opponent performs his; therefore, the method of making those must be learned well in order to then have more ease in the execution of these. In performing them, it must be advised that the parries in tempo can be made in all the guards, as much as in the guard below the weapons, as outside the weapons, inside the weapons, and in that of the sword forward.
[Le Parate in Tempo non sono altro, che Stoccate dritte tirate nel Tempo, che l’nimico tira la sua; perciò si deve imparar bene il Modo di far Quelle, per havere poi più facilità nell’esecutone di Queste. In opra delle quali si deve avertire, che in tutte le guardie si possono fare le Parate in Tempo, così neall Guardia sotto l’armi, come in quella di for a l’armi, in quella di dentro l’armi, & in quella di spade avanti.] [5]
Parries in tempo or what we might call simultaneous parry-ripostes take considerable time to learn to use effectively. The precision, sense of timing, and fortitude required demand consistent, dedicated training, and time to perfect.
Outside of thrust-oriented systems, however, we usually think of a parry as a block, an action which stops an attack by adopting a static opposing position. Weapon weight, measure, timing, and skill all affect how successful either version will be.
One of the worst mistakes we can make in teaching students how to parry and riposte is to fail to cement in their minds what a parry means. A successful parry is a sign that an attack has failed. This doesn’t mean that the defender is out of danger, but it does mean that the attacker should have one thought in their head: defense. The entire logic behind Olympic “right of way” rests on this principle. [6] Both fencers, early on, can misread this situation. The defender, having parried, may strike with zero regard for the fact the other person is still armed; the attacker, their first attempt stopped, may continue to target with no regard for the riposte screaming towards them. Both children and adults have commented to me in drill “but I hit them,” which is true, but only half-true. Yes, you hit them after or as they riposted, but was that the wisest, safest choice? No. You got hit too.
The defender must do more than parry and strike—they must do so with the awareness that there is still a sharp point out there. The riposte must follow quickly lest the opponent use the extra tempo to remise, and ideally the defender will riposte as much as possible in such a way that a smart attacker will not try to take tempo, but parry in turn. The attacker, on the other hand, having been parried, should realize the attack failed and immediately go on defense. Sure, there are times the defender’s response is slow and a remise an option, but here too one must do what one can to renew that attack safely and cover.
Attacks in Tempo/Counter-Attacks
As mentioned just above, attacks made in tempo against an attack, versus a defensive response, are often an option, but they are dangerous to make. Fencers with an excellent sense of timing—which can be improved dramatically via drill—can avail themselves of this option with more success, but what holds for the less skilled holds for them too: they must consider their own safety in making such an attack.
The standard stop-cut drill in sabre is a good model for this. Ditto arrest drills in epee. In sabre, the instructor attacks poorly, usually in three main ways: cutting to the inside exposing the inside forearm; cutting the outside exposing the outside forearm; cutting to the head with a bent arm exposing the bottom of the forearm. The student makes a counter attack in tempo, either making a cut or an arrest to each of the exposed targets, as they step back, then parries the blow as it terminates in that line, and ripostes. Here, the student employs counter-offense, a blow in tempo, but also covers in case the attempt fails.
Cultivating Caution
None of what I’ve shared here means much unless one’s goals are to fence as “realistically” as possible. Any set of competition rules, by definition, has to make allowances for deviation from realism if for no other reason that the challenge of effective judging, and it’s competition, a game, so that is okay. One should be forthright about it, own that fact, but assuming one realizes the limitations, fine. In teaching, however, in drill, in all we do as learners we need to cultivate a proper sense of caution and do what we can within a given system to avoid being hit. To own the truth, being hit is historical too—sword combat crippled a lot of people and put a lot of people in the ground—but unless one is keen to emulate that, it’s probably wise to consider how our training, in every sense, supports or undermines the guiding principle of “don’t be hit.”
NOTES:
[1] Cf. Matt Easton, “How do you incapacitate someone with a sword?!” 18 March 2022, https://youtu.be/zqADQyPBZmw]
[2] NB: while beats can be made against these guards, they are far less susceptible to beats than say when facing sword alone or against Marcelli’s Fourth Guard with rapier and dagger.
[3] See Nicola Terracusa e Ventura, True Neapolitan Fencing, 1725, trans. Christopher A. Holzman (Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2017), 70. Google Books, p 66 of La vera scherma napolitana rinovata dal signor Nicola Terracusa, e Ventura, Parte II, Ch. III, “Del modo di tirare le stoccate, e delle tre guardie,” or page 68 in the pdf after download. Link: https://books.google.com/books?id=PYcpqbY0e2sC&pg=PA63#v=onepage&q&f=false
[4] Part II, Book I, Ch. 12, “The Beats with the Sword” in Francesco Antonio Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman (Witchita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019), 313; the pdf available on Google Books is p. 29 of Parte Seconda, Libro Primo Cap. XII online, but p. 231 of the pdf after download. Link: https://books.google.com/books?id=yOVEAQAAMAAJ&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q&f=false
[5] Part II, Book 2, Ch. 2, “Method of Making the Parries in Tempo,” Rules of Fencing, trans. Holzman, 369; Google Books p. 65 of Libro Secondo Cap. II, or p. 267 in the pdf after download.
Of note, Marcelli explains earlier in his work that he does not advocate moving anything other than the weapon and arm that wields it to parry. The fencer should stand firm, in guard, and use timing, a solid guard position, and just enough movement to block or deviate the incoming attack. [Part I, Book I, CH. XIII, p. 53ff in Holzman]. In many systems, including among many Italian masters later, the feet are often the first to move, even if a short half-step back. Given a weapon of the weight and length used in Marcelli’s period, however, there is less necessity for using the feet as one does in modern foil or late period sabre.
[6] My go-to example of this is the riposte to the flank delivered by lunge after parrying 5th in sabre. Students young and old have shared concern over the Damoclesian sword poised above them as they riposte. It’s an excellent observation. This said, while one can side step to the inside line if they so choose as they deliver the riposte, the initial attacker should be more worried about that riposte than in dropping their blade to bonk the opponent on the head. The blow was stopped, its energy is spent, so an extended arm grasping a sabre that can do nothing but drop is a poor trade for that fully developed riposte heading for their ribs.
The Value of Historical Fencing for the Olympic Fencer
Two posts ago [31 Jan. 2022 “Further Tales in Continuing Education”] I outlined a few ways the historical fencer might benefit from Olympic fencing’s pedagogy, terminology, and their well-established use of the universals in most aspects of their approach. Here, I’d like to do the same for the Olympic fencer and suggest a few ways they might take advantage of the historical approach. [1]
This post will read differently from the previous one. It’s not that there’s nothing the Olympic fencer can learn from historical fencing, but that what they might learn is more theoretical than practical or tied to specific applications useful in their game. This isn’t to say that time spent on (the better) historical interpretations won’t improve an Olympic fencer’s understanding of technique, even their fencing, but to say that where modern understanding can help “unpack” the sources, the knowledge and practice that emerge from the sources will not help one earn ratings or trophies. The contexts are too different: the rules that govern the sport, while still tied in some ways to the logic of the sharp point, are divorced enough from the original purpose that between the rules and electrical scoring apparatus fighting “historically” will only lose one points. This is something I’ve covered often, too often probably, so for brevity this time I leave that discussion in a note. [2]
Historical Fencing’s Value for the Sport: The Short Answer
More than anything else the modern fencer spending time in historical fencing should gain increased appreciation for the sport. I say “should” because if the Olympic fencer spends time on “bad HEMA,” then they’ll likely experience the same revulsion they normally do. So, assuming they find decent interpretations sans tin-foil hat thinking they should return to the piste with more awareness of their own game. It’s genealogy in a way. It’s time spent looking through a family tree, seeing connections, and ultimately how one’s own story fits into the larger one.
Few modern fencers need be told how complex and sophisticated the Art is, how difficult to acquire and how much more difficult to use effectively (never mind gracefully). On the other hand, most may not fully appreciate how much more to fencing there has been historically, how varied the tools were, or how nimbly people developed weapons and systems for unique contexts. They may also learn how the three modern weapons happened to be the three that “survived” to form the modern sport. It’s easy to assume no other outcome was possible, but even within more recent history there are examples that remind us of this rich past and that modern foil, epee, and sabre might have included other, now extinct branches. [3]
There are also, under the umbrella of appreciation, more specific benefits the modern fencer might acquire as well.
Increased Insight into the Hows and Whys of Technique
Olympic fencers, more so than their cousins in historical, pay careful attention to technique, to the proper use of and positioning that makes an attack or parry succeed. From the first day of instruction this awareness is inculcated; it’s a key aspect of teaching one how to fence. A day-one fencer learns why the sword and hand move first, why the lead foot points straight ahead, and how far the blade needs to move to defend against attacks in various lines. Everything, from the distance the elbow should be from the body on guard to where the knee should be over the foot, is taught as a matter of course. Depending on the club, an instructor may not have much time to explain each aspect in depth, but they rarely teach without this high degree of specificity. Typically students receive instruction, work on it with the maestro or instructor, and then drill it with other students. The average fencer doesn’t need to know how a technique developed, only how to perform and use it effectively. That is the goal, after all, movement streamlined to achieve a specific goal. It’s really only if those students get into teaching that some sense of the development of technique is important, but even here the goal is not history but effective transmission of what students need now.
To illustrate this one can look at a modern method of taking parry five, the head parry, in sabre. Few students are taught sixth, seventh, or first as alternatives, only fifth. Of note, the blade is turned out toward the opponent, not up, the reason being that so turned one’s parry is more easily taken farther out and has a better chance of defeating whip-over. [4] The mid-century method I learned was closer to what it was at 1900, that is, the thumbnail faces down, the blade is angled up, and then turned slightly forward and out. Earlier Italian practice was farther out even than this.
The Olympic fencer doesn’t need to know why they take 5th the way they do, but if they take the time to examine how the head parry has developed over time they will come away with greater insight, not only into what they are learning, but also into the changes demanded by different weights and balances of weapons and how rulesets affect technique. As I often remind students, there is no Platonic ideal of a parry—we have a starting place, but exactly where we take that parry in a given bout can vary in actual practice. [5]
Improved Appreciation for the Role the Universals Play
ROW (“right of way”) revolves around universal principles of fight. As I’ve mentioned before, ROW assumes the same logic we apply in historical fencing, which is to say that the attack takes precedence. If a sharp blade is racing toward us we had best defend. The application across schools, styles, and forms of hand-to-hand fighting may vary, but this principle is always in play. The difference in Olympic is that so long as one has ROW nothing else matters (save in epee where there is no ROW). This means that being hit at nearly the same time or just after, or off-target in foil and sabre, doesn’t mean much. It’s not that the rules don’t govern these incidents too, because they do, but that one is not concerned about being hit, only that one hits with priority.
What historical fencing offers the Olympic fencer is a stricter view of this principle. Our rule is “don’t get hit.” Ever. Whether defending or, importantly in this instance, on the attack, the goal is not to be struck. It’s not enough to hit first or start first; one must land the attack and not get hit while doing so. This doctrinaire approach to universal principles is useful. The reason the weapon and arm move first, also necessary for establishing ROW, is that when the swords were sharp this was primary: we are safest behind that sharp point and threaten best when it moves first. This way the dangerous bits reach target faster and are more likely to get a reaction from the opponent. It’s efficient motion—none of it is superfluous. One benefit of weapon-first is reducing the degree we telegraph an action. Add nerves in the mix and efficiency becomes all the more important; it’s one reason why we drill simple actions over and over again.
The historical approach, because it doesn’t have ROW or off-target, means that it’s unforgiving. A hit is a hit unless passé or flat. Like it or not, much of competitive fencing is performance; sure skill and tactics are vital, but the most successful competitors also know how to play to the director, judges, and audience. It’s as true in “HEMA.” If an Olympic fencer applied the same logic we do in historical, imagine how much more strongly that drama might read. [6] Few things send a clear message to director and opponent like stop-cutting the opposition and then parrying and striking them a second time. Whipover aside it reads a certain way—it implies control, calm, confidence. If anything, given the horrific issue of whipover even to achieve such a close-out once is significant and worthy of note.
Greater Understanding of the Origins and Development of the Sport
Returning to the genealogy of fencing, the Olympic fencer spending time in the average HEMA group will likely feel incredibly grateful for all that the sport has to offer. I don’t wish to rail against the historical community, but it’s a patchwork of clubs, groups, and schools of varying quality, and only a handful of which are able to offer much in terms of solid teaching. Most Olympic fencers will find the “fight club” nature of HEMA off-putting, the lack of drill foreign, the misuse of sources bizarre, and the inconsistency in pedagogy rightly concerning. Most ills in HEMA derive from these problems.
The Olympic fencer seeing the positive aspects of historical fencing will view their own training with new appreciation and awareness. It’s that learning a second language vantage point. With luck—and I confess this is a selfish wish—that fencer may also come to see their ruleset with new eyes. There are logical inconsistencies that make zero sense, which might be solved easily, and which vested interest and inertia ignore. My favorite example is the fact one can score with the flat of the sabre—the Olympic fencer, concerned with ROW, seeks to get the steel on target with little thought to which part of the blade. Needless to say with a live blade striking flat isn’t going to do much and certainly isn’t going to render one’s opponent hors de combat. We have blades now that could easily solve this problem, something a few of us were advocating twenty years ago but lacked decent tools for, and the investment would be worth it. Castille’s 16mm, Darkwood’s sabre blade (provided Scott increases the width and thickness of the tip), and a few others are all light enough that they don’t require a body-builder to wield, are flexible enough to be safe in the thrust provided the usual safety equipment and control, and still allow for complex actions. The net gain is worth the risk or trying something new that is, actually, old 😉 [7]
Case Study: Circa 1900 sabre at 755g vs. Olympic Sabre at 325g
For a specific example of this awareness, a modern sabreur who picks up a sabre with the weight and balance of period originals will find it heavy. Of the three surviving weapons sabre, oddly enough, is the lightest of the three. [8] If they attempt to play the game they do today with yesterday’s weapon they will quickly appreciate how much has changed.
Direct cuts are made much the same with either weight of weapon, but some of the ripostes will initially feel slow, large, and dangerous. The molinello we make from the head parries of 5th or 6th, to name one example, requires more elbow. Weight affects distance too. The feint thrust to the inside line, disengage and thrust or cut to the other line, is slightly slower with a heavier blade, so where one starts that feint must be correct; moving the weapon faster in a pinch won’t work like it does with the s2000. Weight and balance affect speed. A beat made from third, for instance, may displace the point from the line, but it might be easier for the opponent to replace that line too—this defeats the purpose of the beat and can make this maneuver dangerous. This is rarely an issue with the s2000.
The nature of the blade changes things too. The fact one must hit with a cutting or stabbing portion of the blade with each blow will likely make an Olympic sabre fencer pause when trying to make a banderole cut the current way (flat). As nonsensical as it is with the s2000, seeing the wider flat of a 16 or 20mm sabre on target highlights how silly an idea it is. This same fencer will find the curve on copies of period sabres foreign too—modern sabre blades are all straight. This affects how one makes a point in line, how one targets a thrust, and how one makes certain actions on the blade.
Moreover, weapons built along historical lines can immediately explain some of the vestigial artifacts that survived into 20th century if not modern sabre. One reason we turn the hand out slightly in parrying third, which is still taught, is that it puts the edge out to receive the incoming steel. We have the elbow about a fist away from the body in Hungarian third/Italian terza bassa (low third) too. Why? The blade is best supported with one’s thumb behind it, and the forte on sabres wasn’t sharp—it was meant to block. So positioned, if the parry collapses, and depending on the weapon one is facing it can, then the arm is pushed directly into the body, but in a straight line and one that still, if all goes right, keeps one safe and keeps the edge aligned to riposte. A panic-parry made close to the body is possible with an historical blade; with the s2000 chances are high there will be whipover and one will receive a touch.
And, Lastly
Using copies of the weapons which originally informed the system one fences is fun. That’s reason enough to try it out and see how they play. Paired with a decent historical source it’s all the more rewarding. It’s can be a slippery slope, though, so be warned. You might find you like it, and some of the best fencers I know have a one foot in Olympic, one in historical. It just means more fencing and when is that ever bad?
NOTES:
[1] As quick reminder, I use the term “Olympic” and less often “sport” as short-hand; I do not mean them pejoratively. These are descriptive terms and serve only to delineate their branch of the tree from historical. I’ve long been on record for the issues I have with the FIE’s handling of certain problems, and I stand by those complaints, but it’s important to clarify that one can take issue with rules and their interpretation and yet still value the culture those rules govern.
[2] The chief difference between Olympic and historical fencing is purpose. Though intimately related, the former seeks to score points, the latter not to be hit. Both, odd as it may seem, prioritize the initial offensive action, but they do so in different ways. In the sport, right of way (ROW for short), dictates that the first fencer to start an offensive action has “priority,” that is, will score unless the opponent successfully defends and ripostes or successfully attacks in tempo. If anyone is hit after that exchange, indeed if one is hit at nearly the same time, it doesn’t matter—the point goes to the person with ROW. This is meant to reflect the reality of the duel, and does in that one respect, but the lack of concern over near simultaneous strikes and “off-target” touches undercuts this reality significantly. Only in epee does a simultaneous attack automatically penalize both fencers.
In historical fencing, the priority of the attack is supposed to reflect the reality of a sharp point: if the point or edge is thrusting or arcing toward one, then prudence dictates one defend oneself lest one be (metaphorically) wounded or killed. Ideally, one makes that attack and is not hit on the way in, or, hit immediately afterward. There is no “off-target” in historical fencing.
On the face of it this understanding should have obvious appeal to the Olympic fencer, but however much it should help them the nature of their equipment is such that it doesn’t translate. For one example, the s2000 blade too easily wraps around defense to score, and while “one-light” touches happen, more often than not who struck first is determined by the box. It’s common for both fencers to be struck, and more likely in sabre since any portion of the blade, even the flat, may score.
[3] Victorian “HEMA,” such as the longsword and rapier work Alfred Hutton experimented with, is one such example (cf. his Old Swordplay: Techniques of the Great Masters, Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2001; see also Egerton Castle’s Schools and Masters of Fencing: From the Middle Ages to the Eighteenth Century, Mineola, NY: Dover Books, 2003). The man behind the revival of the Olympic Games, first held in 1896, was a fencer and had written a book on mounted fencing (cf. Baron Pierre de Coubertin et Louis Pascaud, Traite d’escrime equestre, Auxerre, FR: 1906) The 1904 Olympics had single-stick and in 1908 there was “three-cornered sabre,” see Richard Cohen, By the Sword: A History of Gladiators, Musketeers, Samurai, Swashbucklers, and Olympic Champions, New York, NY: Random House, 2002, 213). There were also oddities, such as the like longsword games constructed along the lines of Meyer, practiced by some of the Hitler Youth in World War II (see J. Christoph Amberger’s discussion, page 235ff, in The Secret History of the Sword, Burbank, CA: Unique Publications, 1998).
[4] Two posts ago I alluded to some differences in culture between historical and Olympic fencing that came up during a coaching clinic. One such example was the parry of 5th. During an exam, Maestra Connie Handelman asked me to demonstrate and explain 5th, which I did, and this started an interesting conversation about changes in the culture. I do things the old way, partly as an artifact of my own training (which was pre-electric) and partly because of the amount of time I’ve spent in classical/historical fencing with heavier sabres. She explained that the change in 5th had proved better defense against the nature of whipover.
[5] As a newer fencer, I had this mistaken idea that there were Platonic ideals of each parry, that is, a sort of ultimate, perfect example of each. Issues with Plato’s metaphysics aside, the parries as we learn them are a starting place, that spot where we need them most often, but they can and do shift. We see this in the literature, e.g. fourth and low-fourth, but in practice we see it too. We use a low version of prima to protect the inside line of the leg, a higher version to protect the upper body or cheek.
[6] In the 1990s when sabre was electrified in NCAA tournaments one of my coping mechanisms was to obtain the first two points. I didn’t care what happened after that. One of my go-tos was this combination of stop-cut/parry riposte; another was to strike, then cover and strike again. I could not beat the box, however, as the director officially cannot overrule the box, but I felt better for doing something I knew had merit.
[7] A look at earlier sabres used for competition will demonstrate that we have not always used the slight blades we do now.
[8] The official rules for the FIE/USFA (according to the Aug. 2020 version, https://cdn2.sportngin.com/attachments/document/f840-2248253/2020-08_USA_Fencing_Rules.pdf#_ga=2.35042337.1612075356.1646537642-1943816898.1646537641) list weapon weight and length limits:
foil: total weight must be under 500g; maximum total length is 110cm; maximum length of blade is 90cm
épée: total weight must be less than 770g; total maximum length is 110cm; maximum length of blade is 90cm
sabre: total weight must be less than 500g; total maximum length is 105cm; maximum length of blade is 88cm
Since smallswords were, on average, between 350-450g, and sabres 680-800g, it’s significant that the modern versions must both be less than 500 and are usually much, much lighter than that. The Olympic sabre I use most often for lessons with kids weights 340g.
Peeling back the Layers: How to Use Modern Approaches to Examine the Past
In my last post I shared some thoughts about the value of studying beyond our core interest. It can be a hard sell suggesting to an Olympic fencer that there is something to “HEMA” and vice versa, but I stand by this and the longer I investigate the history of fencing the more I’m convinced there is merit to this interdisciplinary approach. But what if someone hasn’t had exposure to one or the other? How might someone who doesn’t have time to take a coaching clinic or attend a seminar on Marozzo obtain the tools they need? This is a fit subject for a lengthy book, but were a friend to ask me “what do I need if I have to teach this tomorrow?” I’d have a few recommendations.
What follows is how a “HEMA” fencer can benefit from familiarity with Olympic and trad fencing–a look at how the competitive fencer can benefit from a study of “HEMA” will follow.
When something is unfamiliar it’s often best to start small. In this case, first, I’d have them read up on and prepare to discuss the universals. [1] Second, I’d have them take one action, technique, or idea and focus on it to illustrate the general principle. Reading both modern treatments and the historical ones they wish to cover side by side is next. In 101 level history courses we refer to this as using “compare and contrast” to discover patterns, see what pops out, and collect data. Next, they need to analyze that data and figure out what if anything is significant about the patterns they have found. There are several ways to do this, but an easy one is to write out what each author says about X and then look at them side by side. Index cards, columns on a sheet of paper, or some digital means of doing the same all work.
It’s one thing to tell, another to show, so here I’d like to take an action or technique and apply this process. Let’s say that someone is working on Roworth’s “battering.” In his The Art of Defence on Foot with the Broad Sword and Sabre (1804), page 65, Roworth writes:
BATTERING
Is striking on your antagonist’s sword to obtain an opening, and requires the same degree of caution as bearing, lest your antagonist slip his blade from your stroke, and make a cut on the contrary side. It can seldom be attended with success against any but the outside and spadroon guards, when used to force an opening on the side at which you batter: but sometimes by inducing an adversary to resist that attack, you may disengage and cut on the contrary side.
Despite the brevity of the passage there is a lot to consider here:
- battering requires the same caution attending bearing
- battering can be defeated by slipping and cutting to the other side
- battering works best against the outside and spadroon guards
- battering sometimes works best to draw the opponent’s parry and attack in a different line
It makes sense to tackle the obvious first. What is bearing? What’s a slip? What does Roworth mean by “contrary side?” What is the outside guard? Spadroon guard?
Defining these means reading through the source. Bearing, for example, Roworth treats just before battering (64-65). He states:
BEARING
Is generally practiced by longeing forward briskly on the outside guard, opposing the fort of your blade to that of your antagonist, and from thence slipping your fort towards his feeble, by which means you may press his sword of the line; this (unless he takes to the hanging guard) leaves his head, neck, and breast exposed to your edge, and from this position a cut over and within his guard may be made, but must be executed with celerity.
Here too there is a lot of vocabulary:
- longeing (lunging)
- fort and feeble
- opposing the fort
- pressing out of line
- hanging guard as counter
- cut-over and within his guard
If one doesn’t know these terms, then mining the text and/or other, related works and seeing what they say is the next step. It may require a slight leap of faith, but some of these terms one will find in more modern works. The reason that more recent sources can help is that old and new are connected—terms change, rule sets change, and individual techniques sometimes change with them, but in looking at them across time it’s a lot easier to see these differences and figure out in the aggregate the nature of the action. It’s not a perfect analogy, but looking at how the definition of a “beat” changes over time generates a sort of Platonic ideal of “beat-ness,” that is, what a beat is and what’s for regardless of time period. We then have a distilled “generic” version that allows us to identify the same or similar action wherever we find it. The caveat to this is that we can’t stop with the similarity; it is crucial to note the differences too, especially looking backward.
There are many books and websites that can help [2]. Let’s use “bearing” as a quick example. The first two sites I checked don’t list it [https://www.britishfencing.com/glossary-of-terms/ and https://www.usafencing.org/glossary-of-fencing]. Another site lists a term closer to “battering,” French battement, which it defines as “beat” [https://queencityclassicalfencing.com/fencing-terms/].
I looked in Gaugler’s Fencing Terminology and Morton’s A-Z of Fencing and didn’t find anything, but Evangelista’s The Encyclopedia of the Sword does have a listing:
BATTERY AND BEATING
In his book Complete Fencing Master (1692), the celebrated swordsman Sir William Hope refers to “battery” as “striking with the edge and foible of your sword [the weak portion of the blade, closest to the point] against the edge and foible of your adversary.” “Beating,” he says, “is done with the forte of your sword [the strong portion of the blade, closest to the guard] on the foible of your adversary.”
The beat, he suggests, is more useful for taking control of an adversary’s weapon than is the battery. [49]
Significantly, the master Evangelista mentions and quotes, Hope, represents an earlier Insular text. That is potentially a decent piece of support—geographically both Hope and Roworth are from the Isles, and though separated by a century, the similarity in their use of battery is suggestive. Both describe the use of the forte against the foible.
It can pay to be thorough, so a check through a few more sources is wise. Looking at Maitre Rob Handelman and Maitre de Sabre Connie Handelman’s Fencing Sabre: A Practical Training Guide for Coaches, Parents and Young Athletes defines “beat” as:
A type of attaque au fer made by tapping the opponent’s blade sharply on the middle or upper part [311]
[attaques au fer: these attacks are actions that are more or less violently executed against the adversary’s blade. There are three kinds of attaques au fer: beat, pressure and expulsion (froissement). Beat and pressure are the only ones performed in modern sabre fencing] 310
Gaugler’s Fencing Terminology (18) offers:
Beat 1. French. a crisp movement of the blade against the opponent’s with the object of knocking it aside or obtaining a reaction, is called a beat. 2. Italian. a blow of measured violence delivered with the strong of the blade against the medium of the adversary’s steel to dislodge it from engagement or its position in line. The line in which the attacking blade encounters the opposing steel identifies the beat: we therefore speak of beats in first, second, third, and fourth.
Looking closer to my own tradition, Holzman’s translation of Settimo Del Frate’s Instruction in Fencing with the Sabre and the Sword (1876), provides a useful entry in his glossary (232):
Beat (Battuta, It.) A percussive blow against the opponent’s blade, meant to deviate it from line. It differs from the sforzo in that it is much smaller in scope and it rebounds quickly from the opponent’s blade rather than sliding on it. Capt. Del Frate’s sword text describes it as the falso pico (q.v.), but the sabre text does not discuss it. The beat in sabre does occur in Parise, Barbasetti, et al.
Now armed with definitions from 1692 to 2010, all of them pertaining to violent strikes against an opponent’s blade, we can better assess what Roworth describes as “battering.” No one definition may match exactly, but they are close enough that using comparison as well as paying close attention to the words Roworth uses we can get super close, and thus, derive a decent interpretation of this action.
Text & Weapon
With a grasp of each term one can then work it out text in one hand, sword in the other. For “battering,” one needs something to batter, so set up another weapon or dowel or similar as target. Returning to the text, Roworth tells us
BATTERING
Is striking on your antagonist’s sword to obtain an opening, and requires the same degree of caution as bearing, lest your antagonist slip his blade from your stroke, and make a cut on the contrary side. It can seldom be attended with success against any but the outside and spadroon guards, when used to force an opening on the side at which you batter: but sometimes by inducing an adversary to resist that attack, you may disengage and cut on the contrary side.
Start small. Set up the target-sword (if you don’t have a partner) so that it approximates Roworth’s “outside guard.” This corresponds to modern third.
Now, strike the opposing steel to deviate it and cut. If you have a partner, do the same, and then try what the author suggests—have your partner react and attempt to parry, then coupé/make a cut-over to the other line (this is sometimes called an indirect cut today).
Mixing Modern and Historical Approaches
Where modern training can help is in the details. For example, traditional and modern fencing teach us to strike immediately after making the beat to avoid the chance of an attack into tempo. Likewise, we make the beat with the fingers and without the hand deviating from the plane of 2nd/3rd—to bring the arm across to beat opens the line and exposes us to a counter-attack.
Modern pedagogy can also help us hone our ability with this action. Start from standing, in distance, and perform the action several times. Then, take a half-step to a step back and perform it with a lunge. This will change things—does one beat first, on the extension, and then lunge, making this a two tempi action, or, does one make the beat as they extend and then flow into the cut in one tempo? Try both. Two tempi beats will be easier to start with and help isolate each action: start of extension, beat, finalization of extension and touch. Now try the same action from just out of distance so that one must advance or cross-step first before lunging. Lastly, try it moving, going back and forth, and then selecting the right moment. This can be practiced offensively (make the beat as your partner retreats) or defensively (make the beat as you retreat).
Depending on weapon weight some of this will need alteration. Weight affects tempo, and thus measure, so it pays to calibrate if one is switching from a weapon under 500g to one of more historical weight between 650-800g. [3]. The good news is that it’s fun experimenting, and in the process of changing weight of weapon, the measure, and varying the tempo will make a single entry, a single action in Roworth far, far more valuable and useful.
Of note, using contemporary progression with footwork or employing similar cautions in performing the action, doesn’t undercut the interpretation or mean one is being automatically anachronistic. These are tactics we use to understand our sources. The footwork Roworth advocates may be different in certain ways, but a knowledge of how we advance and retreat today will only help one in looking at the way the author treats these as well as in what he advocates for the traverse steps, the slip, etc. There is remarkable, demonstrable continuity of theme if not execution in using the sword in one hand. The similarities help us understand the differences that we find so exciting.
NOTES:
[1] The universals, as termed, vary, but the list always includes measure or distance, tempo (rate of an action, its rhythm, the time of a single fencing action), and judgment. Speed, timing(the favorable time to make an action), and initiative (the first person to start an action) are often listed as well. These are concepts, but there are more practical expressions too, e.g. the concept of lines or quadrants of target (inside, outside line; high line vs. low line; inside high, outside low, etc.), the necessity of the weapon and hand moving before the foot and body, the role of evasion, deflect, block, and others.
[2] I’ve listed a few of these above, websites and books, but there are many more. The key thing is to locate credible resources. This is especially true with the web; not everything is equally worthy of your time. Books, at least those vetted by an editorial team and in some cases outside reviewers, are a safer bet than those published by an enthusiast. Historical fencing is an amateur pursuit, and I’ll be the last to knock that, but we have people in the community who are better researchers, writers, and teachers than others and it pays to take the time to consider what you are reading. I rely heavily on the translations by Chris Holzman, but Chris was well-trained, holds certification in fencing, and has his translations read not only by native speakers, but native speakers who are recognized fencing experts. It matters.
Often an experienced, capable researcher can assist us too, but as with the web and books, do your homework. For Insular broadsword my first stop is Jay Maas, but Nick Thomas is another good resource. There is a LOT of broadsword video out there, much of it poor, so consider the poster’s qualifications, how they’re viewed by experts and the more experienced, knowledgeable amateurs.
[3] One “can” beat with sabres over 800g, I have myself, but this comes down to balance and purpose. A basket-hilt or khmali meant for foot combat, because the pob is closer to the guard, can make a lovely beat, but a trooper weight sabre, because the pob is farther out, is less ideal. It’s one reason we see so many single-tempo attacks in competitive HEMA sabre—the weapons they’re using are too heavy to do anything but simple actions (which makes sense if one is in the saddle, but next to no sense on foot).
* The image from Roworth is from The Art of Defence on Foot edited by Nick Thomas, available here: http://swordfight.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/ART-OF-DEFENCE-ON-FOOT-1824-Fourth-Edition.pdf . Barbasetti in third, is from the 1899/1936 The Art of the Sabre and Epee; the last image is from de Beaumont’s Fencing: Ancient Art and Modern Sport (1978).
Further Tales in Continuing Education
ἀλλ᾽ ἄνδρα, κεἴ τις ᾖ σοφός, τὸ μανθάνειν
πόλλ᾽, αἰσχρὸν οὐδὲν καὶ τὸ μὴ τείνειν ἄγαν.
For any man, even if he’s wise, there’s nothing shameful
in learning many things, staying flexible. Sophocles, “Antigone,” 710ff [1]
Tired and sore, but still on a high from a weekend of learning and camaraderie, I returned to Portland today from San Francisco. I was there to attend a teaching clinic at Halberstadt Fencing Club run by Maitres Rob and Connie Handelman. [2] Last year I had the pleasure to take an online/zoom class with Rob on epee, and it was easily one of the best classes I’ve ever taken. So, when the excellent Patrick Bratton (Sala della Spada, Carlisle, PA, USA) told me that Rob was offering another class I didn’t have to think about it—whatever it was, I wanted to take it.
Though I had not met Connie, I had read her book on sabre and the prospect of working with them both was exciting. It was also intimidating. It’s not just that Halberstadt is a premier level competitive school and run by well-known and respected coaches, but that I often feel out of place at clubs like this. There are exceptions, but be it “HEMA” or Olympic fencing I’m never unaware of that fact I’m not a perfect fit in either branch. The discomfort is worth it, because I believe in the respective virtues of both branches. I talk about building bridges, so it’s important to be one myself to the degree that I’m able. Besides, one ought not shun any valuable source of education and improvement.
Common Ground
It’s unfortunate that an over-abundance of ignorance, pride, and a corresponding lack of interest in taking the time to examine the other, is an affliction shared by both Olympic and “HEMA” fencers. Generally, neither camp takes the other seriously. The excesses in both make it easy to point out flaws, but these receive a disproportionate amount of attention. It also obscures a fact that is likely uncomfortable for many: at the root there is less that separates them than unites them. One need look no farther than the central, foundational role that the universals—what Rob calls the “elements of fencing”—play. Fencers within the sport may not see them in “HEMA,” especially in the video most often shared online, and those in HEMA may not understand them (or worse deny their reality), but regardless these universals, measure/distance, tempo, timing, speed, initiative, and judgment are what makes fencing what it is. Even “trade-craft,” a feature the Handelmans include, is as active in “HEMA.” This is how we use rules, drama, and psychology to influence opponents and judges.
This is a long introduction to say that friends of mine on either side sometimes scratch their heads about the choices that I and those like me make when it comes to keeping one foot in Olympic, and one in historical. I’ve spilled enough binary ink on the why and how I got started in classical and historical fencing, so here I want to explore why I look to the Olympic side for instruction. In short, it’s better. It’s the best place to acquire not only technical skill, but an understanding of how that skill reflects and expresses the universals. For anyone interested in becoming an effective instructor Olympic pedagogy and the importance placed on effective teaching cannot be beat.
The mistake that “HEMA” makes about the sport of fencing is that it takes what it sees in competition as the sum. It’s not. Competition footage shows one competitive outcome of the principles and techniques, strategies and tactics, that fencing comprises. For example, every fencer—foil, epee, or sabre—is taught that the weapon and hand precede the foot. Any decent text on the subject, from our earliest extant sources to modern textbooks, verifies this. Put another way, ROW (“right of way”) in the sport and the “true times” of the Englishman who Shall not be Named assume the same principles. The chief difference is context, and within that, purpose.
There were sword-fighting competitions in Silver’s day too, sure, but unlike today there were real-life combat uses as well. We can do all we can to reach for as accurate and historical an interpretation as we can, but in the end this one difference undercuts our efforts. That’s not a complaint, just an observation. It’s something we must bear in mind, not only because it keeps us honest and can improve our interpretations, but also because whatever we come up with is no less artificial than what one sees at a NAC, the world cup, or in the Olympics. For those like me the preference for historical fencing reflects more of a difference in outlook in re rulesets than anything else. To me, off-target or being struck even when one has ROW means that one has still been hit, and I am uncomfortable with that. My friends in Olympic fencing, however, are not ignoring these hits, just assessing them differently and emphasizing another aspect more. The importance within ROW placed on the priority of the attack in foil and sabre assumes the same logic we use—that we should be using—in historical fencing: if something sharp is speeding toward us, we should defend first; if the attack is flawed or our use of measure better, we can attempt a counter-attack into that initial attack, but a smart fencer will still cover themselves as they complete that counter.
All of this is to say that viewed without the mud-splattered spectacles HEMA wears when viewing Olympic what makes fencing fencing is common to both branches. What we emphasize is different, and thus, how we employ technique. The clinic at Halberstadt this past weekend looked at every aspect in a granular way—each idea, technique, could be and was broken down as needed, then rebuilt so that in the aggregate one had a better understanding of it, why we do it and how, and how to teach it. It’s this last part that HEMA lacks most of all.
Teaching: Depth & Breadth
To dive deep into everything we covered would make for longer reading than my already wordy posts tend to be, so I’ll focus on a few examples. The first is attention to types of lessons—there are teaching lessons, where a student acquires a new skill such as a change-beat; there are option lessons, were a student explores a technique or concept from different angles. Using the change-beat, they may start standing, then add a step, a lunge, or advance lunge. They might change the tempo or line; the student might employ the change beat offensively or defensively (moving forward for the former, backward for the latter). There are tactical lessons too. The breadth of what can cover with a single action is vast.
In terms of depth or specificity, each portion of the change-beat can be broken down into component parts. In one drill the coach playing student made a light beat in 4th to start the sequence, the coach made a light beat back, and then the student disengaged and made a beat in 3rd before striking. When the student makes each beat, at what distance, where they make it, how fast or slow they make it, all of that can vary, so understanding each step, its execution and purpose, is vital. For a coach, the ability to identify where something is going right or wrong, what section the student is struggling with, is crucial in helping them correct the mistake, drill the action correctly, and ultimately allow the student to add this action to their toolbox.
This method can be applied to historical fencing too, and, is by the better coaches. Armed with a knowledge of the universals, fundamental classes of actions, and a methodology for breaking actions down a researcher can look at one of the sources and more successfully engage that source. These skills do not automatically mean that one “unpacks” a text perfectly or accurately to the time, but it is better for several reasons. On the one hand the knowledge-base and methodological approach of modern fencing pedagogy is, arguably, the most effective means by which to attack these works. On the other, this same approach provides an international lexicon for describing what we read. Maybe that is as far as we get, maybe we only gain a better sense of the parries that Rosaroll & Grisetti mention but don’t really define, but this is still progress. [3] It is still useful. After all, modern fencing’s theory and pedagogy didn’t develop in a vacuum: it is the latest iteration of an art and science that one can chart in the corpus back at least 600 years. Today’s fencing, for all its differences, is still a grandchild of the sources the historical fencing community examines. They’re related.
Awareness & Cultural Difference
As one of two historical fencing instructors at the clinic this weekend I had a ring-side seat of the cultural differences, or perhaps better the “technical” differences, between say Radaellian sabre and modern sabre. I was there to learn, to catch up in a way, because with few exceptions I’ve not followed developments in the modern game since 1996. I know things have changed, but not having a lesson from a coach using modern understanding there is a lot to learn. For example, the banderole or “bandolier” cut, a quick slicing chest cut that starts in the inside high line and ends in the outside lowline before one snaps back into guard, no longer uses the edge. I learned it the old way, and as a fencer focusing on historical expression, I prefer the cutting edge to that flat. However, when in Rome one does as the Romans do, so, I learned how they make this attack today and why they do it that way. [4]
One of the critiques my fellow coaches and the two maitres made often was that my actions are larger than those they teach. They use sabres under 500g where I use one, typically, around 700-750g. One can make a disengage with either sabre, but the weight of the historical sabre, the fact the blade is curved, and how all of this affects measure and tempo means that sometimes actions are “larger.” Large actions are a bad idea in modern sabre even if by “large” we mean a relatively narrow difference—it’s a lot easier and faster to attack into tempo if one’s disengage isn’t super tight. Size of action, in some degree, relates to size and weight of weapon.
Because I was there to learn, to improve, the last thing I was going to do was argue that they should do it my way. My way won’t work in their context. I did what I think one should do in these situations—where appropriate I explained briefly why I did it that way (this is how they taught me 30 years ago, this is the way the texts I focus on now do it, etc.) but only to explain, not to contest or to make excuses. I followed this with a request that they show me how they do it and a promise to do my best to use their method. To argue that Radaellian molinelli are superior, or double-down on my old coaching, doesn’t signal that I’m there to learn and doesn’t tend to impress those who may be quizzing me later in a certification exam. I may prefer a different, historical method, but to insist on it in a modern school, one I am visiting in order to learn, makes little sense.
For my part, it was kind of fun seeing what stood out to them and what was the same. Their observations provided me not only awareness of what they do, but through their eyes what I am doing, and, how well I might be doing it. These are real time, get-to-know-people opportunities, and importantly a chance for me to represent what I do (hopefully) better than the videos they associate with “HEMA” do. Maybe it fails, maybe not, but trying to meet on common ground, respecting the expertise and culture of others who study the Art, remaining curious and open-minded, embracing suitable humility, honoring the skill and knowledge of others, and doing my best to represent historical fencing well is never wasted effort.
I am grateful for the time, dedication, rigor, and kindness the Maitres Handelman extended to us all, even to us two historical weirdos, and look forward to their next clinic whatever it is.
NOTES:
[1] For the Greek, http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0185%3Acard%3D681 ; for a translation, see https://johnstoniatexts.x10host.com/sophocles/antigonehtml.html; the translation of this line can vary. In The Complete Plays of Sophocles, Moses Hadas, ed., Sir Ricard Claverhouse Jebb, trans. (New York, NY: Bantam Books, 1988), 133 the line is rendered “No, though a man may be wise, it is no shame for him to learn many things and bend in season.” The verb in the last clause, τείνειν, from τείνω ” to stretch, stretch to the uttermost” seems a fitting verb in this context of this post.
[2] Cf. https://www.halberstadtfc.com/. Halberstadt was founded in 1942 and is one of the oldest continuously running clubs in the country.
[3] Rosaroll & Grisetti discuss parries, but do not describe them in great detail, cf. § 81 and §173ff in Giuseppe Rosaroll Scorza and Pietro Grisetti, The Science of Fencing, 1803, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman (Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2018), 110, 161ff.
[4] We compartmentalize many things. Just as I use a Georgian khmali a little differently than an Italian sabre or French smallsword, so too can I use a sabre different ways. The reality of teaching the introductory classes that I do is that not all those students are interested in historical fencing. Some want to be Olympians. My approach in the P&R setting is to provide an introduction and foundation in basic skills, something hard to do in the short time these classes run. The focus is on fun, on getting kids excited about fencing, any fencing, while at the same time giving them a platform from which they can go any direction with it they might want. In SdTS classes and lesson I focus on historical, at CPRD they’re a little more agnostic.
Revisiting One’s Roots—Fencing according to the _Règlement d’Escrime_
On ne change pas une équipe qui gagne. [1]
As the latest mutation of Covid-19, “Omicron,” ravages the area (thanks unvaccinated, unmasked amadáin), everything is affected. Between outbreaks at various schools and the allergy symptoms I woke up with this morning attendance was sparse today at class. While I’m sure that my congestion and itchy nose are thanks to taking down holiday decorations inside and out, and fencing in super warm weather yesterday, I can’t be too careful and so alerted students and gave them the option to opt out. It’s the right thing to do. I met with one student, outside and masked of course, and as a new and younger student we’re starting with foil. Though I had to scrape ice off my windows before driving to meet up, by the time the lesson was over the temperature was again unseasonably warm. It was a good day to fence out of doors. Post lesson, as I sat waiting to make sure no one else was going to show, I went back over the lesson I had given.
My focus at Sala delle Tre Spade is mostly Italian, but there are exceptions. The smallsword I teach relies mostly on French sources; the bayonet I teach does as well; and foil, while I can teach Italian, I’m more comfortable with French. It’s what I learned first. At present, I only have one dedicated foil student, this young chap, and the method I teach is taken directly from the Regalement d’escrime (1908). Since it was designed for the military, it’s straight-forward, and yet imparts all the universals and fundamental actions. Foil is an ideal introduction to fencing. One can learn these in other ways, true, but the advantage with foil is that it presents the core of the Art while also developing skills essential for any fencing—strength and dexterity in the fingers and point-control. The latter might seem limited, but it’s not. Good point-control carries over to other crucial aspects of control. A foilist turned sabreur, for example, is less likely to be a hard-hitter, and, has the advantage over sabre fencers who lack a point-game.
The first fencing lessons I took were in foil. The first master I worked with (a few years later) taught the usual program of foil, epee, and sabre common in the States, one largely French-derived. Sabre, however, which I studied with him was more mid-century and thus not so much French as it was Italo-Hungarian. The last master with whom I worked consistently, Delmar Calvert, was French-trained, and, trained according to the Règlement d’escrime of 1908. As a man who went on to coach at colleges and for the Pan-American team, naturally there were adaptations he made in teaching that were more suitable for the requirements of the sport, but the foundation for his approach was what he learned in North Africa with the Foreign Legion. [2] The difference between the sabre he taught and that I had learned under Maestros Hurst and Couturier was minimal. However, any time I did something less in keeping with French preferences, he’d scold me. This was often amusing, but (seeking to be an obedient student and wishing to be respectful) I did my best not to use sesta or make most cuts with the elbow. Despite his dislike of my “Italianisms,” Calvert’s approach, his mix of English and French in lessons, all of it was familiar, comfortable. Like walking into a dojo or do-jang now, it feels a bit like home when I focus on anything French.
I had a good notion of what to cover this morning, but I reread the relevant section in the Règlement to make sure. My student had one lesson at an excellent Olympic school before coming to me, and we have only met twice, so we are still working on introductory material. He is a quick study, and even over the break had clearly been working on his lunge. Day one material is vital, absolutely critical to get down well-enough before moving onto anything else. I was surprised when my student asked me in our first lesson about compound attacks—having only had one lesson before that I would not assume they had covered anything beyond simple attacks. It’s not impossible, but it is uncommon to work on compound attacks as they require a firm grasp of elementary actions.
For example, in covering the lunge today we explored a few universals. Most of what we covered built up from the basic lunge. For reference, here is the development of the lunge as outlined in Article III, “Développement:”
13. La développement du bras, suivi de la fente, constitue le développement.
Étant dans la position de le garde, pour se déveloper:
Déployer le bras droit, vivement, sans raideur, le corps restant immobile, la main, les ongles en dessus, à hauteur du menton. Porter ensuite le pied droit en avant, le pied rasant le sol, et tendre vivement le jarret gauche. Laisser, en même temps, tomber le bras gauche et le maintenir dans une position sensiblement parallèle à la jambe gauche, la main ouverte, les doigts allongés et joints, le pouce en-dessus. Poser le pied droit à plat, le genou droit sur la vertical passant par le milieu du pied, le corps légèrement penché en avant, la main droite à hauteur des yeux (fig. 7). [Rd’E, 16-17]
13. The development of the arm, followed by the lunge (fente), constitutes the development.
From the position of guard, to develop:
Extend the right arm swiftly, without stiffness, the body remaining motionless, the hand, the nails up, at chin height. Then bring the right foot forward, the food skimming the ground, and quickly extend/stretch the left leg. At the same time, let the left arm drop and keep it in a position approximately parallel to the left leg, the hand open, the finger extended and joined, the thumb on top. Place the right foot flat, the right knee positioned vertically over the middle of the foot, the body leaning slightly forward, the right hand at eye level. [3]
Several things struck me about this passage. First, how much information it contains in such a short passage. Second, how similar this description of the lunge is to that found in sources from two centuries before. There are differences—many texts want the lead knee over the heel and not the middle of the foot—but for the most part the salient parts remain the same: weapon moves first, right foot skims forward, left leg straightens, hand is high to protect the face and high-line.
This sequence is universal. In offense, weapon and hand move first, legs and body after. I’ve seen it in every western source, from every period I’ve examined. I was taught the same thing in kendo and gumdo. It applies to bayonet. It applies to many strikes in empty-hand combat, and those that seem to defy the rule, like a hay-maker, tend to be preceded by a jab or cross to put one less at risk (the jab here being the initial extension).
Moreover, spending time with sources outside our main focus offers not only greater breadth in one’s coverage of a single weapon, but also provides a different point of view on that weapon as we normally approach it. This is to say that by looking at the differences between French and Italian foil we can understand each one better, and ultimately, foil itself better. For historical fencers the value of this can be far greater than they realize. If foil was the training weapon for the épée de combat, itself developed in part to return to the spirit of smallsword as foil became academic, then study of traditional foil and epee will only improve our chances of understanding earlier works, be they on smallsword or rapier. [4] Deep study will increase the worth of this hard work too. Once grasped, an understanding of the universals will open up most any hand-to-hand weapons system far easier than it is without it, and, with less room for error in interpretation.
As a final note, it’s important to start on and stay with the basics until one understands and can perform them well. This is the fencing equivalent of crawling before walking. Give yourself permission to be a beginner when starting something new, and allow yourself the time to master basics. The road ahead, if you stay on it, will be far easier and pleasurable if you do.
NOTES:
[1] “One does not change a winning team,” i.e. “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” in colloquial American.
[2] I’ve been unable, so far, to discover much about my first maestro’s training. What little I know is that Edwin “Buzz” Hurst competed on the team at the Naval Academy. Clovis Deladrier, before emigrating, was the Fencing Master of the First Infantry Regiment and 12th Artillery Regiment of the Belgian army. He was the head fencing master at the U.S. Naval Academy from 1927 until 1947. His son, André, took over in 1948. André was head coach there until 1989, and so was coaching when Hurst as at the Academy. See Clovis Deladrier, Modern Fencing: A Comprehensive Manual for the Foil, Épée, & Sabre (Annapolis, MD: United States Naval Institute, 1948); cf. “The Rigors of Fencing Foil Navy’s Coach,” in The Washington Post, 9 March 1989, https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/local/1989/03/09/rigors-of-fencing-foil-navys-coach/304f232b-c17a-4014-b45e-07addd6b1b8b/
For more about Maitre Calvert, see https://museumofamericanfencing.com/wp/calvert-delmar/; https://www.westcoastfencingarchive.com/2019/07/29/say-goodbye-say-hello/; and an earlier post here, “Gang Affiliation or Natural Allies? Fencers and their Camps,” 22 July 2019, https://wordpress.com/post/saladellatrespade.com/321 ; an excellent source for his military experience is Bernard Coliat, Vercors 1944: Des Gi dans le Maquis (Bourg-Les-Valence, FR: l’Imprimerie Jalin, 2003).
For the Règlement, see Ministère de la Guerre, Règlement d’escrime (Fleuret—Epee—Sabre), Paris, FR: Imprimerie Nationale, 1908, available online at BNF Gallica, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k65577093.texteImage
[3] Règlement d’escrime, 16-17. My translation is loose, but maintains the sense of the original. Native speakers of French my apologies if my version offends.
[4] One way to think of it is that smallsword was a demi-rapier, much the same as its longer predecessor, but because of its shorter blade and lightness made certain things possible that were harder or impossible to do as well with the longer, heavier weapon. Side by side comparison of rapier and early smallsword texts reveal far more common ground than we typically assign them. As the duel waned in Europe, foil qua foil became a game all its own, one increasingly complex and divorced from its original purpose. Writers like de Bazancourt (fl. 1860s), who embraced a less artful style, did so because on the ground salon fencing could get one killed.
Cold Weather Fencing
Above a certain latitude training in winter conditions is common; this is especially true if one lacks a roof or only has access to one part-time. Common, not normal. A master I studied with recently, and to whom we submitted video assignments of us teaching, more than once marveled at the fact that a few of the participants not only taught in the wet, but also participated in the three-hour zoom class in the same weather. Fencing traditionally is an indoor pursuit. For my friend in Pennsylvania, who was taking the same class, and I the choice is simple: adapt to the weather or don’t fence. Not fencing isn’t an option, and so the question then becomes how best to deal with the elements. While not usual, working out of doors is something a lot of us do–colleagues of mine in other corners of the world, such as Carlo Parisi in Italy, as well as closer to home (Mike Cherba, Alex Spreier, and Sean Mueller to name only three examples) also fence outside winter or summer.
Layering & Staying Warm
Between the two I will always choose the cold over heat and humidity. It is easier to stay warm than it is to stay cool. Fencing kit, however, is not designed by North Face or Columbia and thus is not optimized for working outside. Both canvas and nylon jackets are less than ideal, canvas because once it’s wet it stays that way and can make one colder, and nylon because it doesn’t breathe—this makes mitigating moisture, which one would normally manage by unzipping or removing a layer, more difficult (one shouldn’t unzip a fencing jacket while training for obvious reasons).
Depending on the weather, and the length of time I will be outside (especially the degree to which there will be breaks in activity), I layer appropriately. A base layer, t-shirt or rashguard, especially one of the wicking-styles, is smart; a longer-sleeved shirt—if it is cold enough—is a decent second layer. Over this I have my jacket, which is heavy canvas, and then a plastron/coaching vest. [1] For the legs, I normally wear track pants, but fencing knickers/culottes underneath can add both padding and an additional layer. Many people wear leggings.
Head and hands are the most difficult to insulate. Few things fit comfortably under a fencing mask, especially with a face-mask, but there are a few options. The padded cap made by Purpleheart Armory, for example, adds a bit of padding but warmth as well. Fencing gloves are made for two reasons: to provide a decent grip and to provide some protection to the hand and wrist. They are not made for weather. One option is to wear glove liners, thin ones, under the fencing glove, but depending on make these can bunch making a good grip difficult. [2] In a similar way, most of the shoes made for fencing, or that we commonly use for fencing, are not intended for training outside. I have worn Addidas “Sambas” (developed for indoor soccer) for decades, and they work fine, but they are rubbish for keeping one’s feet warm. So long as I’m moving, I’m fine, but the breaks in lessons or similar times when I’m less active the cold begins to set in. One student of mine wears hiking shoes, and these accommodate more appropriate socks, but they are less ideal for lunging.
Maintaining Gear
Much of our gear is steel, and in historical fencing, mild steel. Living in Oregon means rain most of the year, and so cold or not if one works outside then some provision for preventing and combatting rust is necessary. Ideally prevention is something one is already doing since gear maintenance is a critical part of safety protocols as well as a way of reducing overhead (gear isn’t free). Every two weeks or so I check all weapons for burrs, file or sand down those that need it, and reapply a light coat of 3-in-1 oil. Masks are harder to manage, but as important. Most of my masks have painted meshwork—this helps prevent rust and can reduce glare in sunlight. Those that aren’t painted I check frequently and either sand and reoil or if too severe replace. Never economize on safety.
In my fencing bag I carry a small case containing the following:
- –small file
- –fine and coarse emory paper
- –a bottle of 3-in-1
- –an old t-shirt scrap as oil rag in a sandwich bag
- –a few washers and bird blunts; a few foil and epee rubber tips
- –a pair of pliers
- –a rubber buffing block (for rust)
- [I also carry a set of metric and imperial allen wrenches]
These tools cover most of the issues that might spring up and are compact and light enough not to add too much weight to an already hefty fencing bag.
Terrain
This is obvious, but worth stating. Avoid slippery areas. I work mostly on concrete or gravel; neither is ideal and both are even less so when wet. If you want to fence in the snow, go for it, but wear the right clothing and moderate your practice accordingly. It is difficult to fight in snow, but it can be fun. This is something I do not do with younger students unless they are advanced and of an age to manage it well (deep snow and short legs are a bad combination for moving in snow).
Organizing around Weather
Teaching outside means that organizing practices and lessons around the weather is everything. For example, Sundays I teach in a two-hour block where students take turns in individual lessons. The less idle time there is, the more we move and stay warm, so while I teach one student the others work on drills or tactical questions I provide them. [3] Before we do anything, however, we warm up and then do group footwork exercises. These are important at any time, but in the cold warming up sufficiently also helps prevent injury. In a recent individual lesson, one held at night, I ended up straining my left Achilles tendon. Clearly I had not warmed it up enough, and tighter in the cold was more prone to strain. [4]
Hard as it can be, there are times when the prudent thing to do is cancel practice. With adults I’m more likely to see if they’re willing to meet, but with children I tend to make the call and cancel. We had snow this past week, somewhat a rarity in the Portland area, and not everyone knows how to drive in snow. For students of mine who live outside of town, or who are driving from another area, there’s increased risk in traveling. Thus, while the snow was minimal the wiser course was to cancel.
Altering the time and length of practices and lessons is another option. I make sure parents know that they are always welcome to stay for practice, but in the cold many would rather not. Some stay in their vehicles close by, others run errands, but one way to limit a student’s time in the cold and give their parents a break is to have them show up and leave in a certain window. For example, in a two hour block I may have four 30 min lessons. I will have one student show up for that first half hour, another for the second, etc. This means they each arrive only for their individual lesson, but in colder or hotter weather this is sometimes a better choice.
For the instructor, dressing appropriately, pacing oneself, and organizing practice can affect not only the quality of practice, but one’s condition. Better to cancel if the weather is super poor than risk the roads or overexposure. [5] Since instructors often use different footwork, such as walking, they move less and expend less energy—this is great to preserve oneself to teach all day, but not so great for staying warm. One last consideration is one we think about perhaps less often, but which is important. If we work with children then like or not we are another potential role model; setting a good example for them, in every way, is vital. Just as we teach them not to counter-attack at the wrong time, so too should we model for them good sense.
Not everyone likes the cold; not everyone manages it well. There is no shame in that. For me, I love winter—it’s cold, dark, and wet, all things I like—but that is me. Not all of my students like it, not all their parents do, and so while I might plan to hold practice when it’s freezing out I always make it optional. I message everyone ahead of time to see who is interested, and if no one is then fine. What we teach is difficult, and a shivering child doesn’t make an attentive student.
NOTES:
[1] Layering is a tried-and-true approach to staying warm. Ideally one has layers that are easy to remove or unzip to allow heat and moisture out either as the temperature warms or one exerts oneself, but with fencing this is harder to do. In shorter practices it is less of an issue, but for longer sessions it is sometimes necessary to remove say a second shirt and then don the jacket again.
[2] There are a lot of options for glove liners. It’s best to bring your fencing glove—provided it isn’t too smelly—and try on which options least impede grip. For the Purpleheart gel cap, see https://www.woodenswords.com/Liner_for_a_Helmet_or_Fencing_Mask_p/liner.helmet.htm
[3] Drills and tactical puzzles keep people moving, but require supervision in younger or newer fencers. It’s never an easy balance. Keeping people moving in cold weather, depending on practice length, is a practical way to keep them warm. The goal, however, is still drilling technique or applying tactics in real-time.
[4] Instructor movement is less constant, less active, so it pays to be careful. We spend less time with our knees bent and on guard. We still push the student, but since we may see many in one practice this is a way of pacing ourselves. In cold weather, though, it does less to keep us warm so planning for it is important.
[5] I hate cancelling practices. Without a roof it is sometimes a fact of life, less because we can’t or shouldn’t meet, but because not everyone is keen to work out in the rain. I don’t hold it against anyone; I don’t think we should. Comfort levels vary, experience on slippery roads does too, and in the spirit of meeting people where they are it’s important to make allowances for all that. Over-exposure, frostbite, etc. are less a concern where I live, but I have colleagues in Canada like Jay Maas where these are considerations as well.
In Memoriam: LTC J. Boone Emmons
This will be an atypical post and one tangential to fencing in some degree. I ask the reader’s pardon if it is too off topic and self-indulgent. The losses in life, though natural, are important to face and face head on, especially when that loss is the passing of a parent and teacher.
On December 21st I received a call I had been expecting, but a call no one looks forward to: my father’s wife rang to inform me that he had passed. It was a mercy to hear he had died in his sleep, because between Alzheimers and his failing body he had been miserable for months. Among the eccentricities common to that side of the family is a penchant for eschewing funerary rites, memorials, etc. I’ve been told it is to save people trouble, but since funerals are for the living, a way to process loss, that has never really made sense to me. However, that was my father’s wish and it’s important to honor it. This said, there is nothing stopping one from honoring his memory on one’s own, and so in honor of my father, my first martial arts teacher, I am celebrating him here.
Arms and the Man
My father’s family has been in the States since the early 18th century. His namesake and mine, James Emmons, took his elder brother’s place in the army and fought in the Battles of Cowpens (17 Jan. 1781) and Yorktown (28 Sept. to 19 Oct., 1781). After he demobbed, he and several other families headed west. This small collection of families—mine, the Shortridges, Kirks, and Duncans—stuck together, over several generations, and ultimately ended up in the Oregon Territory. His mother’s family arrived early last century from Cork, Ireland, where another ancestor, from Scotland, had settled after retiring from the 72nd Regiment, Duke of Albany’s Own Highlanders. [1]
My grandfather joined the US Army in 1916 at the age of 19—joined or was offered a choice between the army and jail according to another version. A cavarlyman, he served with Pershing in the Mexican Campaign and then in France. I’ve yet to verify this, but some of his old notes from the days when he was teaching equitation at the St. Francis Riding Academy near San Francisco list time spent at the famous École de cavalerie at Saumur, France. He was still teaching mounted combat, State-side, up to 1942. My father was born in 1938 and began his military career as a reservist while at Lewis and Clark College.
Vietnam
Having majored in Latin, and finding teaching less to his liking, he joined the regular army and spent thirty-some years on active duty. Easily the turning point for him, like so many men and women his age, was the Vietnam War. His unit was there in 1968; they arrived just in time for the Tet Offensive. The helicopter taking them to the front was shot down and he spent his first day in country bogged down in rice-paddies fighting his way out. One thing I didn’t learn until later was that several times he had been hit by shrapnel, but because the men under his command were hurt far worse or killed, he refused commendation. [2] There were still flechettes in his back the last time he had spinal surgery.
The war changed him. It changed so many people. His father and adopted brother, Bobby Ringo (who served in the Army Air Corps as a bombardier), had done their part to fight fascism in Europe, and my father like so many of his generation joined up in the belief that they too would protect the world from evil. As he put it, fighting Communist encroachment made perfect sense, assisting another country against great odds was laudable, but discovering that our involvement had less to do with any of that so much as it did with retaining a port in Southeast Asia seemed a lot less noble and worthwhile (South Korea and Thailand both have coasts after all…). [3]
The Art and the Man
After the war, he served for a year in South Korea on the DMZ, and while there began studying Korean martial arts. It is the one thing he spoke about from his assignment there. I know it was an important aspect of his life in Korea, because it remained important to him the rest of his life. When I was down to visit him this past November we chatted at length about various aspects of the Art. Not surprisingly, he was keen to have my sister and I learn too. I don’t remember it, but apparently when I was three I had trouble with some other kid on our street. My father taught me some fundamentals of Moo Duk Kwan and according to my mother’s account that seems to have solved the problem. When I began my own formal study of martial arts at the age of 11 my father was not only supportive, but also helped my sister and I train at home.
My father and I didn’t always see eye to eye, as happens, but when it came to martial arts, to the Art, we spoke the same language. If nowhere else we shared certain values and worldviews thanks to that training. Martial arts did a lot for me—like many kids full of rage it was a more appropriate avenue to process all that, and, learn to manage it. The years I spent in full-contact tournaments did a lot to help me cultivate the specific calm important before a fight, and, prepped me for having to handle the unfortunate moments in life when we call upon those skills. Happily there have been fewer such occasions because I had good teachers. [4]
As a late teen I was working on joining the army myself. Between academic interests and a crippled right-arm, however, military aspirations were not going to work out. What little time I spent studying military science, as the courses were called, I loved, especially map-reading. This was one of three subjects my father had been adamant that we learn in case we had to serve: know how to shoot well, know how to read a map well, and know how to use a bayonet. Since his family had been ranchers in Oregon, where a rifle while riding the fence can be a good idea, and because of the family’s military background I grew up learning to shoot. I still enjoy hitting the range, but these days the cost to do so is prohibitive, never mind the political and social associations one must navigate. [5] I have always been grateful that my father stressed these studies. Map reading I’ve used frequently, but I teach bayonet and might not have had my father not advocated that it was still an important skill. It had, after all, saved his life more than once.
Post-Demob
Having spent his life in the military it was tough for him to adjust to civilian life, a struggle so many Vets know painfully well. One casualty of that adjustment, and the onset of late PTSD, was that my folks, like so many of their generation, didn’t survive as a couple. [6] They split up during my father’s assignment to Ft. Ord, Monterey, California, and thus in high school I split time between northern Virginia and the Bay Area. Life as a base-brat means travelling, seeing different people, different cultures, the positive and the downsides of life (such as severe economic disparity), and it’s a valuable education. It wasn’t easy, but looking back it prepared me well for all the travel I did as a teenager. I’m grateful for those solo flights and chances to navigate the world on my own.
A whiz at organization and logistics, my father found work with a variety of tech companies in the late 80s and early 90s, from NEC to Intel; this was a prime time be in Silicon Valley. He also operated a company of his own, one that used many of the team-building exercises he had learned in the army to help staff at everything from businesses to fire departments work better together. He maintained that company, and taught on the side, until he was physically no longer able to. A life-time of stress on his body, from ranching to combat, will eventually out.
Gratitude
There is much I don’t know about my father; much I’ll never know. He was an intensely private person and even more introverted than I am. He was, however, a kind man, despite some of the things he had seen and done; maybe he was kind in part because of them.
We spent a number of years without communicating much. One plus of this is that I got to know my father twice, once as a kid, and again later as an adult interacting with another adult. This isn’t to say the intervening period was a picnic—it wasn’t—but one of the few advantages to aging is that our own life experiences can temper our views and understanding. I look on my father, his choices, all of it, differently than I did as a younger person. Understanding is a necessary ingredient for empathy.
Though I am relieved that he is no longer suffering, I am sad that he is gone. Reserved though he was the man was a great conversationalist, he had a real eye for fine scotch, and he had brilliant stories. I will miss all of it. I remain grateful for his instruction, advice (good and bad), laughter, and deep appreciation for so many things, and he will be sorely missed. Requiescat in pace Pater/Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.
Notes:
[1] See https://www.nam.ac.uk/explore/72nd-regiment-foot-duke-albanys-own-highlanders
[2] My father was a Captain and thus in charge of a platoon. He was far older than most of his men, 3o to their 18 or 19, and felt personally responsible for them. He also had some old-fashioned ideas and a few stitches or band-aids seemed poor reasons to accept a medal. In the US those wounded in combat can receive the purple heart.
[3] As a GenXer I grew up on stories about fighting fascism and as a base-brat the idea of a Soviet strike was very real. Even now, the Cold War doesn’t feel like history to many of us–if the missiles are still there the threat is still there (wherever they are and regardless of who commands them). My intense disgust for any semblance of fascism should explain why I find the white-washed fundamentalist sort that grew in strength under the last administration so detestable and dangerous. The irony that so many on that side keep raising the specter of a Marxist threat is comical, but then people take it seriously. Outside of the two actual Communists in the nation Marxism is a straw-man State-side, an idea that creates an instant reaction and motivates those easily led to support the fear-mongering the alt-right enjoys so much. Every intelligence agency in the US has demonstrated that the real-threat today is from the far-right. Happy to share the declassified and unclassified reports if you doubt.
[4] The goal of marital arts, outside a combat context, is to avoid a fight; if that is unavoidable, the goal is then defense.
[5] My nation is notorious for its cult of the gun. My father’s generation looked on firearms as tools, dangerous ones, but tools. They have specific and limited uses. The NRA, damn them, has done much to create this sense that citizens must be armed–and thus many people have selectively interpreted the 2nd Amendment of our Constitution. A “well-regulated” militia we have–it’s called the US Army. No one outside of the military needs anything more than a simple rifle or shotgun. I do not talk much about target shooting because I do not wish to be associated with the nutters who whine about their “right” to semi-auto combat rifles. If someone needs such a weapon to feel safe or manly then they have a lot of issues to work out.
An old friend of mine, one who teaches law enforcement marksmanship, once said that if he had his way the only firearm anyone would have is a single-shot, .50 caliber muzzle-loader. Bet the literalists would twist in their pants on that one. Jokes aside, for those who need some macho prop, I issue the following challenge. Buy a .50 musket and learn to load and shoot on the run. This was a popular event in the mountain village where my mother grew up, and to me far more impressive than the couch-warrior who unloads his mag into targets when playing Johnny Tremain at his militia camp.
[6] PTSD is hell. Even a small amount affects a person’s life severely, but combat stress is something else all together. As a kid my father didn’t talk about the war, not with anyone who hadn’t been there or who hadn’t fought in wars prior to Vietnam. One summer, when I was in the Bay Area, he opened up at a family dinner… and no one knew what to do. Luckily, they listened and were super supportive. He spent a lot of time with other Vets working on this stuff, but it never left him.
GenX came of age at a time when the divorce rate was high. When I think on it, or on the trials I see people go through now, I’m always reminded of a line in “Next Stop Wonderland” (1998). Several nurses at a bar listen to one relate a story of how they met their boyfriend; when the latter goes to the bathroom the same nurse opens up and tells them that they actually met through a dating service (this was before dating apps lol). One asks where the mystery is in going that route, and the nurse replies: “Oh honey, it does not matter how you meet Mr. or Mrs. Right. I will tell you what the real mystery is. The real mystery is: What keeps two people together after they meet.”
On Covering, Part II: Teaching Students about Covering
[Part I, 2 June 2020, “On Covering, or, The Difficulty in Hitting and not Being Hit,” covered much of the background and context for the problem—I don’t wish to rehash that here, but reading it first will help: https://saladellatrespade.com/2020/06/02/on-covering-or-the-difficulty-in-hitting-and-not-being-hit/]
One of the aspects of working with new people I most value is their fresh perspective—it’s all new to them, so they ask the questions we should all keep in mind but tend to forget. Fencers take a lot for granted. It’s one reason that even the most expert fencers should continue to drill basic, fundamental actions and study. While most everything is challenging at first, among one of the more difficult conceptual hurdles for many fencers—new and old—is how to keep oneself covered, not only in defense but also and more critically in offense. The artificial nature of what we do combined with cultural influences tend to cloud our reasoning about this. There have been a number of attempts to manage this problem, most famously perhaps the idea of “right of way” (ROW) in Olympic fencing, but no rule-set or explanation will do the job on its own. We need to cultivate an acutely conscious if artificial sense that the blunted weapons we use are sharp. If we do not, then we run the risk of failing to teach our students how not to be hit.
What follows is a quick break-down of how I’m tackling this. Cultivating a sense of realism in practice is a topic I mention often, I know, but it’s because it’s something I struggle with like many instructors and it’s a problem I see at play in most clubs. I don’t have all the answers, but can share what I’ve found to work, and especially, the holistic approach I’m trying to implement.
Start with the Weapon
From the outset I try to instill a sense of weapon-as-live in class. Normally, especially with kids, I have a period piece (unsharpened) on the first day to compare it to the modern versions. For sabre or foil, for example, seeing the blade profile of a period sabre, smallsword, or epee d’combat, and feeling the weight of each can do a lot to increase their appreciation of the difference in the tools we use versus what people used in the day. With adults or older children using historically inspired trainers this is easier because they are using weapons that better approximate those early tools. In both cases, however, I explain the parts of the blade that are sharp. For those that have held heavy blades, say the cheap overly ponderous facsimiles out of India or the HEMA-Bruh weight of a trooper sabre, the easy heft of a 650-800g sabre can seem unimpressive. Depending on audience I relate either contemporary, analogous examples or cite one of the recorded battles in which one of these “light” weapons proved just as nasty as anything twice its weight.
The kitchen or hobby knife mishap is a suitable modern analogy for children. IF they ask about how dangerous this sabre or smallsword/foil was, I ask them if they’ve ever had a bad cut from some accident in the kitchen or in making crafts. Most have had some manner of accident or witnessed one. This makes the danger a little more immediate. For that one kid in Toughskins who plays it off as no big deal, I remind them that the slice we give ourselves in the kitchen or the toothpick that pokes into our hand as we make some craft, are accidents—with swords, the person threatening another with it intended to hurt that person. It makes a difference. I add that we of course do not want to hurt anyone, but that we need to remember that this is what swords were for, because if we forget then we take chances we shouldn’t.
Reenforcing the Idea of Defense First
Teaching affords us many opportunities to remind students about the nature of the weapon they are studying. Repetition of an idea as they repeat actions helps cement both thought and action in their minds. For example, when I teach them the guard position in sabre I have them in 2nd. This was typical of the Radaellian approach, but I also explain why it was the preferred guard. It directs the sharp point at target, and since the arm is somewhat extended this puts us a little farther behind the guard— as a compromise between presenting a threat and staying away from one ourselves it’s thus an ideal place from which to start. [1] When they make a direct thrust from 2nd, I explain that the dangerous bits, the point and edge, must move first and for the same reasons: it ensures that we are threatening the opponent and staying as far away as possible at the same time. If we fail to threaten them, they may counter attack.
One of the places this is most difficult for students is in learning to parry and riposte. For example, in the last two classes I took them through this simple phrase:
1. Fencer A: from 2nd, thrusts to inside line
2. Fencer B: parries in first, then ripostes via molinello to the head
3. Fencer A: parries 5th, makes molinello to left cheek
4. Fencer B: parries in 6th, makes a molinello to the right cheek
[*assuming two right-handers]
This is a progressive drill, one we work up to over the course of the class, and instructive on several levels [2]. That third step, however, tends to go awry, because Fencer B in step 3 or 4 will sometimes remise rather than parry. [3]
I stop them at this point and ask them to explain the action. When they get to step four, I ask who got hit and who got the touch. They should see that they were both hit… It can be a subtle point, because if A holds that parry too long or takes too long to riposte there is sometimes a tempo in which B might remise. However, once an attack has been parried the very first thought we should have is “my attack failed and my opponent is likely to riposte, so, I need to think defense first.”
It’s not an accident that traditionally we don’t teach the remise week one. It’s a maneuver that requires the fencer to have sufficient understanding and an adequate sense of timing and measure to pull it off successfully. New students struggle to see where the blade is going in a direct thrust or cut, so it’s best to hold off teaching them attacks into tempo until they have a decent command of elementary attacks. Even explaining what went wrong in step 3/4, many students will scratch their heads and doubt.
Two Dead Samurai
What tends to hang students up in step 3-4 is that they know they “hit.” B, for example, will often counter “but I hit them.” This is another instance in which I remind them that if the blades were sharp then they would be both be hit, and that since the goal is not to be hit, that the better decision is to parry and riposte. In class with the kiddos I usually refer to this as “two dead samurai”—mixing metaphors here but the words of Anthony Hopkins as Don Diego de la Vega in “Mark of Zorro” (1998) spring to mind, “Oh, yes, my friend, you would have fought very bravely, and died very quickly.” Because they’re masked, wearing jackets, and using blunt swords they feel safe; because the class they’re taking is voluntary and for fun they are excited instead of afraid; and, movies, books, and tv have cemented an impression of sword-fights that are great for stage but not necessarily accurate. Thus, it’s sometimes an uphill battle to keep the past-reality around the current one. If our goal is to mimic as best we can swordplay as it was/would be, then we must keep that earlier reality in mind.
The entire question of who got the real hit explains why ROW, HEMA’s fetish for the after-blow, and other peculiarities within rule-sets have developed. We’re always trying to find a way to highlight, as accurately as we can, just who won an exchange. ROW emphasizes the priority of the attack where HEMA’s after-blow rules are meant to encourage one to cover. Both punish obvious mistakes; they just focus on different problems [4]. Neither, however, is perfect and interpretation not only over what the judges see, but also what a rule actually means are issues which can further complicate officiating. The inclusion of “off-target” in Olympic scoring and the lack of concern over who starts an attack in HEMA (it does matter) are good examples of where our various rule-sets fail us.
The Logic of Sharp Things
In simplest terms, and the way I explain this to younger fencers, is that we want to stay away from an opponent’s sharp point while at the same time threatening them with ours. If both opponents do this, then at least they start at a stand-off, each relatively safe, each facing the question of how to get to target without being hit themselves. We are safest behind the point, steel in front of us, and the moment we change that, even to attack, we increase the risk of being hit.
Imagining the danger can be difficult, so depending on the age I change the threat. For example, with the current crop of intro students, all of whom are 11 or younger, I tell them that the point of the foil and the point/cutting edge of the sabre contain “Great Stink” and if they’re hit then they’re “skunked.” They laugh, but for this age group especially the threat of smelling bad is more approachable. It can also add to the fun.
The goal with this is to help students learn to react and plan appropriately. With younger students, so many of whom are ready to wield a foil in two hands like a lightsaber, jumping into a fencing class is play, a chance to pretend, and even when we structure classes well and keep them busy with games and drills, they will still find ways to act out the famous battles they know from movies. As one example, in my last p&r class I had them repeat the same drill above, and when it opened up after those three initial actions one pair set-to blade banging against blade with no thought to making the touch. It’s an age group that requires constant corralling, and each time is an opportunity to ask them “would you do this if the other blade could hurt/skunk you? How open are you using that foil in two hands? You’re gunsta stink Hoss…”
Why this Matters
I’m all for fun and do my best to make classes enjoyable for the younger set, but at the same time I want them to learn to fence properly. All this early focus on the reality of the sharp point is critical—without this all we’re doing is playing tag. Ensuring that students learn this helps them understand why we do what we do, why technique developed as it did, and if we’re lucky serves as another connection point in retention of new information. At the same time, the sooner we set them on this path the less likely we may need to correct some of the common faults we see as they progress.
Much of what and how we teach comes down to goals. It’s not my intention to disparage any one rule-set or fencing culture; people pursue what appeals to them and that’s fine. If tag is your thing, go for it. What I will say, however, is that for those of us ostensibly teaching historical fencing, a major goal is approaching everything as best we can as if the weapons were sharp, so we must pay some attention to inculcating an awareness of danger however artificial. It’s sort of, well, the point (pardon the pun) of what we’re doing. [5]
NOTES:
[1] The modern preference, and indeed historical preference in some sabre systems, is for what the Italians refer to as terza bassa, but which most people think of as third in Olympic. This version of third (outside guard for fans of English broadsword) derives from Hungarian practice. Both work, but they set up different expectations. A guard in second is at once defensive and offensive; Hungarian third is defensive: the guard and blade are held closer to the body, so parries are made closer to the body and set up speedy direct cuts well. Second, on the other hand, presents a sharp point from the outset to discourage someone from rushing in; parries are taken a little farther out and the hand moves less far in transitioning between second, first, and fifth, the first triangle of parries.
[2] There are many types of drills and ways to structure them. Progressive builds like this one take an action and build upon it. For beginners I lay out each step—this makes it easier as they don’t have to read and decide what to do the same way as when unscripted, and yet still gives them good practice in watching and reacting with one set of appropriate responses. They develop confidence and feel like they are fencing, which given how complex coordinating all these movements is helps them continue working. Adding additional movements within the phrase, changing the actions, adding different footwork, and either limiting responses or adding unscripted portions are all ways to add complexity. With this particular drill, we’ve not moved beyond being in guard and lunging back and forth. Next, they will do this with movement back and forth, advancing and retreating; then I have them start from farther out, out of measure, and work the distance to complete the drill.
[3] The remise is the renewal of an action/attack after it has been parried or while the defender is preparing to riposte. Some refer to this as a reprise, but this normally includes a return to guard (forward or backward) before repeating the action/attack.
[4] Doubling, or the incontro, is one of the most common faults we make, and often it’s because we have a plan and follow it through without considering how facts change in the moment. Rule-sets can support this. Outside of epee, where a double penalizes both fencers, one need only make sure they land with priority, with ROW, to score—if they’re hit, it doesn’t matter, because they had right of way. In HEMA, which generally doesn’t consider who started an attack only who was hit, doubles are particularly thorny. Was it a double or an after-blow? This is cart before the horse. The first consideration should be who presented a credible threat first and how did the other fighter respond? If the defender chose to double or just reacted, they goofed up. Sure, the attacker should do all they can to cover, but that second fencer didn’t observe the don’t-get-hit rule, the primary rule, and shouldn’t be rewarded for it.
[5] In HEMA competitions, for example, a lot of exchanges are deemed doubles that highlight this problem. In fairness to the fencers, the director has significant responsibility for seeing and interpreting what they’re doing, and the quality of directing varies considerably. To illustrate these reasons, we can examine—for the first—something as simple as how we extend the blade, and for the second the gulf we sometimes see between what we think we are doing in a bout and what we have actually done. In terms of technique, we see the reality of the sharp point in how we make a direct thrust: from 2nd in sabre or from tierce in smallsword, the hand is shoulder high and slightly outside the shoulder, because this helps close the line. Held directly in front, stiff-armed—which many students adopt at first—the arm is likely vulnerable. When I correct this, I remind them why we hold the hand the way we do, where we do. Regarding the second idea, that plan/execution don’t always match up, many fencers in bouts, be they practice or in competition, assume they’ve made the touch when in fact they haven’t or have doubled. It can be hard to see this—after all, they had a plan, they executed the plan, and thus are confident that they did what they were supposed to do. However, for anyone who has felt this way and then seen video footage of themselves… well, it becomes easier to see how intent and execution don’t always align perfectly or do but at the wrong time.
Capitale Escrime Historical Fencing 