In my hands is an original copy of Marcelli’s _Regole della Scherma_ 1686 owned by Maestro Kevin Murakoshi.
This weekend I had the pleasure to attend and the honor to present a class at the Rose & Thorns Historical Fencing Symposium, a two-day event composed of classes and various tournaments hosted by the folks at Diamond Rose Academie d’armes, Auburn, California. To say I enjoyed it is understatement—it was extremely well run, the quality of the fencing (beginner and advanced) was impressive, and the hosts were open, friendly, and passionate about fencing. My good friend Alex Spreier (High Desert Armizare), who kindly joined me this weekend, and I found ourselves actually enjoying the bouts—on several occasions we approached the fencers to tell them how much fun it was to watch. This is in no way a dig at Issac and company—from all I could gather pre-event they appeared as delightful as I found them to be in person, but there is sometimes a disparity between great folks and less ideal tournaments. Rose & Thorns, in my view, is the ideal.
Before explaining that, I should state that my notion of the ideal meet consists of quality fencing, education, and camaraderie. Many events feature people who get on well, and many do their best to provide classes, but with few exceptions I’ve not seen the level of fencing skill, beginner to advanced, that I did here, whether in the pools or in pick-up bouts. Caveat: this is not to say that such events don’t exist—I’m assured by friends and one recent reader that there are other high quality examples of solid fencing. I believe that, I do, but this said for the events I’ve not attended some of the footage shared from them has proved the rule (hop and chop, all first intention, no use of measure, etc.) rather than the exception. Put another way, Rose & Thorns is what “HEMA” tournaments should be.
Smallsword and rapier, generally, draw a different crowd. Interest in these weapons overlaps with like-minded enthusiasts in the SCA, among others, and given Diamond Rose’s history (iirc it began as SCA), this isn’t surprising, but at the risk of offending friends of mine in the Scadian orbit, the smallsword and particularly the rapier I saw was, by and large, not what I typically see in the SCA. It says a lot that I could often identify the source a particular fencer favored, and it says more that the fencers in question weren’t merely costumed up and aping the plates, but making effective use of the source material. There was also a healthy mix of people—some clearly classically inspired fencers, some from the sport-rapier/black tiger side, and even—importantly—Olympic fencers with one foot in historical. Among the last, it was a treat finally to meet Christopher Bartlett. He’s a seriously nice chap and an excellent fencer.
The blend of classes and lectures, the division of the hall into a teaching/pick-up bout/vendor side, and competitive sections, was smart. I was not able to do it all, and missed a few options that I should like to have attended, but the classes I was able to attend and the people whom I met and had a chance to chat with, more than made up for it. In particular, I had a chance to meet some people I’ve mostly known via fb, such as Matthew Lawrence, Christian Killingsworth, and Maestro Kevin Murakoshi (Maestro, thank you so much for sharing your recent book acquisitions, and, for introducing me to Itto Ryu). Meeting such wonderful humans is one of the things that makes these events so special.
Thanks to two long days on concrete, and a misstep (my own fault) during Christian’s class on Nicolaes Petter, I had trouble with my hip and so was unable to enjoy some pick-up bouts with Issac and his people, among others, and so here I’d like to add that I collectively owe them a bout or two next time we meet.
Thank you Issac Humber and Diamond Rose for hosting and running such a stellar event. I am honored to have been asked to teach and am grateful to you all, and to those who attended my class on Charles Besnard’s Le maistre d’escrime libéral. The Rose & Thorns Historical Fencing Symposium has joined SabreSlash in Prague (hosted by my dear friend Maestro Michael Knazko) and the excellent Russ Mitchell’s St. George’s Day Exhibition of Arms as one of the events I should like to attend again and which I hope never dies.
As so often happens, a student observation yesterday during the first practice session initiated not only a valuable learning moment, but also provided a reminder to me as a coach about the place of detail in teaching technique. How much detail and just when we share it are often part of a balancing act between sufficient explanation to help the student and overwhelming them with too much information. Experience tends to be a good guide to this, but it varies by student, and there are times we misread and unwittingly confuse rather than clarify things.
In discussing a thrust with opposition, the student commented that until that moment he had equated “engagement” and “opposition,” and that this is one reason, so he discovered, that he has struggled to make a glide/glizade work. The two terms can correspond, but they’re different–an engagement merely means that the two weapons are in contact in a specific line; opposition refers to a way of parrying or thrusting that shuts out the opposing steel.
The student, so he shared, had been simply thrusting straight out from guard, say from third, along the blade, but importantly without opposition. In effect, he was only aiding his opponent–performed this way, he was placing the weak of his own weapon into the strong of his opponent’s, basically handing them a parry. It’s not that I haven’t covered how to perform a glide over and over again, because I have, but that the concept hadn’t really solidified for him yet. Both his version and the proper one slide along the other blade, but they do so very differently.
It was a key “a ha!” moment for him, and immediately it changed not only how he fenced yesterday, but how he will fence, how he will drill, from now on. A leftie, the chances of doubling with a glide are greater, because both weapons are in the same plane. Armed with new information, well, better understanding of old information, he was able to adjust his hand to the right height and create the proper parabola to target.
Later, in the hours before my next class, I thought about what had happened. Occasions like this are important and can help us improve our methods. First, I wanted to establish that I had not neglected anything previously. Second, I reviewed my notes for the ways in which I normally introduce this action. One of the things I noticed is that I list terms, but realized that in class I may not always define them or do so adequately. I do my best, but familiarity with the information can blind us to the fact that an “obvious” notion may not be so obvious to others. A similar phenomenon can happen in demonstrating an action–even should we execute it perfectly, students may not understand the finer points that create good execution.
So, for next time, my plan with the glide in a new class is to be sure to define the most important ideas. In this instance, that means making sure they see a distinction between an engagement/contact and the leverage that the glide requires. I will do a better job pointing out the height of my hand, its distance from the line, and how the glide follows a parabola to target. This will bring in other, critical concepts vital for success, from the proper measure to the tempo inherent in the action.
Generally, when we lunge with the glide, the point is lower than the fist, hand just outside our own bodies, angled slightly in, and upon termination of the lunge the hand is somewhere between the chin and nose. Some masters show it higher than that, but it need not be unless one is fighting someone uncommonly tall. It’s normally best to be as efficient as possible. Having engaged the opponent’s weak with our middle, the hand makes a slight arc as we reach for target–this ensures that we maintain leverage for as long as possible, this leverage being vital for opposition. Another way to refer to opposition is that one is “closing out” the opposing weapon, keeping it offline and maintaining that deviation so as not to double.
I’ve used this hastily drawn image before, but it serves well to illustrate the angle from above:
Though in this example the blades are not aligned ideally, one will notice that the fencer at the bottom has their point off-target. Assuming the top fencer shifts measure, either with feet or the arm, to command their weak, then they might perform a glide, and at this angle, the bottom fencer’s point will continue to go off to the left.
The “Point”
This short post is meant to highlight a few things. First, that we always be careful that we explain things well, demonstrate them well, and keep an eye out for problem areas.
Second, the ability to add or remove detail to assist a student is important, but takes time to develop. Start small, start simple. With a more advanced fencer, but new to smallsword or whatever you’re teaching, a lot of basic concepts will likely already be there–in this case it may be demonstrating how the action changes from foil.
Third, very few historical manuals go into great detail or as much as we often need to teach, so a major part of interpretation and implementation is filling in those missing details. This is arguably one of the most important, but dangerous things we do, because we leave the page and have to connect the dots as best we can. For smallsword, given the similarities between it and aspects of traditional foil and epee, this is a little easier to do. However, it remains tentative much of the time, especially for actions that became obsolete. It means constantly checking the details we provide against the text and/or texts which include the relevant action.
We will sometimes get it wrong, but this is part of the process, and if we’re conscientious, honest, and open to correction or new information, we are far less likely to go wrong.
One of the best aspects of teaching is that one learns in turn. I’ve been extremely fortunate to work with talented, insightful people, and few lessons pass where students don’t leave me with a lot to ponder. Yesterday, a student whom I normally meet Fridays, visited my adult smallsword class and wrote an inspired message to me with his views on some of the points I made in class. Jeff, the friend and student in question, and I have very much the same outlook on all this, but working one on one with him he hasn’t seen me present answers quite the same way I might in a larger class.
I’d like to share part of Jeff’s email here and discuss it. He wrote:
In your lesson, you reiterated what you have often said, that the goal is not to hit first, but to hit without being hit—-the double touch being no good to anyone. At least, not if the swords were sharp. I learned this many years ago from Nick Evangelista, and obviously it did not originate with him, and it is good to see instructors passing on this sound advice. The advice is both philosophical and practical. (Philosophical intersections are some of the reasons for fencing’s appeal.)
The application of this philosophy in HEMA highlights how far sport fencing has drifted from the martial art. To determine upon—or even to risk—mutual destruction in order to score the winning point in a match seems like a betrayal of the purpose of fencing. It is, however, worth considering some circumstances in which this might not be the case, if only to show why the exceptions should not tempt us to change the rule. I hope this argument is not circular, but it’s worth pondering what sort of fencing tradition (or martial arts tradition) encourages the double touch and whether it is honorable, respectful, or practical to attach oneself to that tradition.
“Greater love than this no man hath…”
Sometimes, a sacrifice is necessary. A man will deliberately forgo any safeguard in order to end a threat to his family, even if the certain result is death to him. Obviously, he would prefer to hit without being hit, but if a double touch is the only way, he will do it—no matter the weapon, physical or non-physical. We strive to attain skill, build experience, and learn strategy, so that such sacrificial encounters will be rare. We want them to be the last resort, not a clumsy, desperate stroke that we resorted to because our ignorance blocked all other opportunities. But we must admit that such circumstances are possible.
The rest of his message was just as well-written and on point. Taking his first point up, yes, I reiterate the “don’t get hit” mantra often, and have to, because for us it’s highly theoretical. I’ve touched on this at length, so won’t do so here, but we train with friends, no one is angry or trying to hurt another, and we wear safety gear. Generally, the worst consequence we suffer is we get hit. Big deal, right? There is extremely little to no incentive not to take chances, and so, people do. All the time.
Maitre Calvert with the Legion (under the “X”)
There are, true to say, instances in which one might choose to “double-out” or fight even knowing one might lose. A stand-out example, and one related to me over coffee by my late master, Delmar Calvert, is illustrative. He joined the French Foreign Legion at 15, and saw action in France just before it fell to the Germans. Delmar left the Legion for the partisans when fascist sympathizers within the Legion killed a few people in their sleep. In time, the OSS found him and the others fighting in the Maquis, and trained them for commando operations. [1] It was during one mission, after having attacked a German supply column, that they realized they were about to be overrun. One of his mates grabbed a heavy machine gun, and told the rest to run for it. This man knew he was going to die, but for the success of their unit and future operations, he made the choice.
In contrast to that real-world, life and death situation, our context in fencing, historical or Olympic, is specific, and if I may say so, narrow. Moreover, unless someone is doing something especially stupid, it’s safe. Wet assume a one-on-one battle. Even in “HEMA” most of the events boil down to one-on-one bouts, not melees. There are groups like Bohurt/The Armored Combat League that pursue melee fighting, but it’s not the most historically accurate endeavor (topic for another time).
So, as Jeff pointed out, we teach, train, and fight–ideally–under a specific assumption, namely that our opponents, like ourselves, do not want to be hit. This is, however, an assumption, and not one universally adopted or practiced. Perhaps more correctly it’s an assumption many pay lip-service to, which they either have trouble implementing in their practice or fail to realize they need to.
This assumption underpins nearly everything we teach. For me, it’s raised the question again and again of how those trained in ways similar to ourselves converted that training to melee/combat situations. [2] We don’t have a lot of information, not enough anyway, to fill out that picture. The way I normally explain it is that the sport and the historical duel have rules–combat does not. [3] Day to day, however, my task has been how to instill this sense of “don’t get hit” in class for our context, which assumes a room or at least a safe space, and safety gear.
Teaching fencing takes different forms. In the sport, for example, we use ROW in an attempt to instill the proper mind-set, that is, a defensive one, but being competitive, and rules being things people always find ways to exploit, we end up with deviations and if we’re really unlucky, features that undermine the original intent of the sport. Classic examples are the “flick” in foil and epee and the bell-guard slap in sabre. These are suicidal actions, but… since they can score points, and winning is the point, the choice for victory over accuracy tends to win out. That they are as ahistorical as they are senseless is immaterial–they earn one points.
In large part, the classical and historical movements owe their current form to dissatisfaction within the sport in the 1990s and early 200os. As I’ve mentioned before, the rise of the internet, and the speed with which information can travel, allowed not only for the sharing of ideas, thus helping these movements grow, but also made texts available on a global scale, one heretofore unknown. Both movements were, in theory, attempting to put fencing back on track. Of the two, classical fencing has had arguably more success within itself–focused on the three traditional weapons or close relatives, with copious sources, and even now a few elderly masters who remember how things used to be (though increasingly few of them), the classical approach is easier than that for earlier fencing, so little of which–in comparison–has survived if it was even written down at all. [4]
Historical fencing, and “HEMA” in particular, has always been a patchwork of good and poor research and interpretation, but it has been the rise of competition within hema that, ironically, has led that community to commit many of the same sins as Olympic, only under different names. Some people are aware of the irony, but most are not.
The stand-out example is doubling to win bouts. This was/is a standard strategy in epee, but we see it in nearly every aspect of hema now, regardless of weapon. It’s all either “beat them to the punch” or “well I got you too.” My issue with this is that both fail the principle of “don’t get hit.” Again, this is an assumption, but if competition is meant to show anything, then ideally it is meant to demonstrate that one opponent’s skill is superior (on that day at least…) to another’s. What has been proven if both are hit? What is proven if one wins by losing as one wins? It doesn’t make sense.
It’s confused, but then hema by and large is too, even down to vocabulary. One of the words I have come to detest in HEMA is “martial.” People use this as a synonym for “effective,” but the primary denotation of “martial” (e.g. warlike, pertaining to war) undercuts and confuses things. We aren’t fighting mock wars, but duels. A duel between two people isn’t a “martial” situation the way a 14th century field battle was. These are very different things, but since both are “fighting,” the similarity wins out over the many important differences. [5] The fact that hema tournaments want things to be “martial,” but then allow ridiculous, suicidal actions to count goes a long way in explaining why hema is a mess and why most trained martial artists and fencing coaches look down on it. Both of the latter, incidentally, get a lot of grief when they point out these flaws, and adding a self-inflicted bullet wound to their foot, the already concussed body of hema dismisses them as irrelevant.
To practice more combat-related actions at speed, with intent, will injure people and destroy gear, and no insurance company I know or have heard of is going to be okay with that. As I tell the younger folks I teach, we don’t want to hurt our friends because if we do, they won’t want to play with us. In short, there is only so “martial” we can be, and to pretend otherwise makes little sense and is misleading. Some systems, Fiore’s armizare stands out, were not meant for safe-play or competition, and surprise, what we see at events, even in many demos, is what can safely be illustrated. The same issue applies to later period weapons. This is one reason that I view the difference between “dueling” and “military” sabre as chimerical–they both relied on the same body of technique: what differed was how much one might use and the context in which one did.
For me, the best way to do right by the traditions I inherited is to present them as faithfully as they were given to me, and if possible, add a bit more of the historical context, something my other training makes possible. For the most part, since I’m preparing people to fight one-one-one, I teach according to the typical assumptions behind such combat. On the rare occasions I present material intended for different context, say weapon seizures and dirty fighting (punching with the guard, pommel strikes, kicking, elbow-breaking), I also admit up front that we can only gain an appreciation for this aspect as it is, quite literally, unsafe to train. I think there is value, however, for more advanced students in having a glimpse into that side of fencing, one we do not and cannot see short of law-suits.
One take away, and the one I’d like to focus on here, is that what most of us present to students is ONE view of a varied, far more colorful and interesting world. The sabre system I teach, Radaellian sabre, grew out of cavalry practice, and while we retain aspects of the from-the-saddle game, we cannot use it as for horseback. We don’t fight that way. Most of the surviving works for the Radaellian system cover unmounted drill, so happily we have a lot from which to draw, and can provide an impressively deep and robust system. When it comes up, or once they reach a certain stage, this is something I share with students, because they need to know that what I show them for fighting on foot would not work for a mounted context, not without adjustment. [6]
Being aware of the assumptions that underpin our program is vital. It helps us define not only what we teach, but also the “why” behind it all. It should also, ideally, help us delineate what we can teach from what we cannot or should not, the latter in the sense of safety. All the fancy stuff, the exceptions, the unique plays and actions, all of that is fun to explore, but it’s best for one to dive into all that after learning the fundamentals and having some skill with the weapon in question.
[2] For example, some officers learned via private instruction, so one-on-one. battles don’t work that way, so some adjustment from piste to field had to be made, or, one was unlikely to survive. We have hints of this. Hutton, in The Swordsman, remarks with reference to fighting in Afghanistan that
He will not politely salute you, he will not come on guard in correct fencing-room style and abstain from attacking until the blades have been engaged, and he will not in his fighting make use of the lunge and recover to which we civilised swordsman are accustomed, for the very good reason that he knows nothing about these things; but what he must and will do is exactly what our English sword and buckler men did in the days of Shakespeare, at which time the lunge had not been invented.
[“The Grips and Closes,” 127ff, Alfred Hutton, The Swordsman, Leeds, UK: Reprint The Naval and Military Press, LTD. with the Royal Armouries, 2009.]
Hutton’s typical Victorian sense of European superiority notwithstanding, the Afridi warrior he assumes as his example he clearly saw as a formidable opponent, and, one likely to have the upper-hand against a salle-trained fencer.
[3] Modern notions of combat ethics aside, historically and in most areas of the world, hand-to-hand fighting is utterly brutal. It has to be. What supposedly set apart the duel from a mere fight was the ritual apparatus around it, the rules and societal expectations around it. Often, it was better to lose a duel than survive one but break those rules.
[4] Classical fencing, alas, has its weirdos too, but being a smaller enclave of things swordy, it affects very few. Maitre Evangelista, a major proponent for fencing with sense, was vilified unfairly by many in Olympic fencing; he was right, and they didn’t like it.
[5] It’s the same logical failure that the ancient aliens and other conspiracy nutters tout. Reason, evidence, and logic have little sway when it comes to things people want to believe. The fantasy element in hema is strong, ditto the puerile machismo so often on display, but nothing anyone does or says will change that. To fix a problem means recognizing there is one, and that cuts too close to deep personal feeling to happen.
This past Sunday at a Capitale Escrime Historical Fencing practice one fencer raised an excellent question—does one always have the hand at the same height when lunging? As so often happens with drills, this sparked great discussion and steered my plan for the evening in a new, and more immediately useful direction. [1] For those familiar with the source material, hand height at the termination of the lunge varied considerably across masters and time. Different contexts, changing uses of the weapon, all these things explain the variation, but for smallsword fencers today this same variety can complicate study. [cf. “Reach for the Sky—Hand Height in the Smallsword Lunge” 11 November, 2022, https://wordpress.com/post/saladellatrespade.com/2647]
Generally, I recommend that fencers have the hand at a height between the chin and nose upon completion of the lunge. There is ample source support for this, but I’ve also found it works well in most cases. However, when a 6ft fencer and a much shorter fencer are drilling or bouting, this needs adjustment. If, for example, the taller fencer sticks to the rule of chin-nose height, even with the point down, they may be open to an arrest because they create more space under the arm. The shorter fencer, on the other hand, may need their hand slightly higher in order to close the line and/or avoid a double.
Girard, thrust in tierce
The question arose during a drill that focused on the redoublement. The redoublement is a double lunge. In practice, however, we often take an additional forward movement in other contexts, say when stepping or with the advance-lunge/pattinando. [2] These are technically different actions, but should the first movement fall short, sometimes we have the option to redouble. It is not wise in every situation. Normally it works best against an opponent who fails to riposte upon parrying or who takes too long to make the return.
One of the taller fencers found that they were keeping the hand at their own chin height upon the second lunge, but were vulnerable to a shorter’s fencer uncanny point-control and sense of timing and distance with their counterattacks. In the former’s case, it made sense to lower the hand to dissuade the opponent from attempting the counter. Important to note, distance as so often governs much of this—his opponent was merely taking a half-step back to parry or counter, and as a fencer with a longer lunge his hand had to be lower lest it be open. However, had the defender taken a full step or a second short step, the taller fencer may well have needed to keep the hand at more chin height.
But my Source Says… The Picture Suggests…
What we read in a source, and especially the images we often encounter within them, are excellent and helpful guides, but must be viewed against the needs of particular moments in a bout.
There is no platonic ideal for either parry or attack—most often what we read is base-line, a starting place, because in that position or method it sets us up and defends us well, and, because it’s an easier place from which to make adjustments. Fencing is action, a movie vs. a collection of still shots. A parry on the outside line, for example, may be a few centimeters higher or lower depending on the height of an opponent, the angle of their attack, or terrain. We adjust usually without thinking about it.
The same is true with the thrust, with attacks, especially when the goal is to strike and not be stricken. We are at our most vulnerable when attacking, because we’re placing ourselves in the measure of our opponent at speed, and so adjusting the hand, the line, anything we must alter, is vital if we are to maximize safety and reduce the chances of being hit as we strike.
NOTES:
[1] It’s often best to adjust on the fly, uncomfortable as it can be to depart from a lesson plan. This question raised a critical point, a fundamental one, and thus was worth exploring in depth.
[2] To be clear, I’m not arguing that a redoublement and an advance-lunge are the same. They’re not. They are both actions, however, that consist of two movements forward, and outside of a sporting context where ROW (right of way) dictates tactics, both expose one to potential risk being longer actions that cover more ground.
[A short review/overview of the Hussar Sabre & Fokos seminar featuring Russ and hosted by Mike Cherba and the folks at Northwest Armizare, Sherwood, OR, USA, 4-5 Nov., 2023]
Hussar Sabre & Fokos Seminar, 4-5 Nov., 2023, with Russ Mitchell, hosted by Northwest Armizare
A core aspect of teaching, of the Art, is remaining a student. Whenever I can, I take lessons, classes, any seminars to learn, unlearn, or improve, because we’re never finished learning. As my old kendo master once shared, even at his level his own master would fix things as elemental as his grip whenever they met up. In tandem with cultivating a student mind, I encourage my own students (when they’re ready) to seek out other teachers, and, better fencers.
This past weekend I had another chance to work with a better fencer, the excellent Russ Mitchell (Winged Sabre Historical Fencing, Irving, TX, USA), and explore new material. [1] One of the traditions Russ learned while in Budapest was a broken lineage for sabre, one adapted to the unique needs of early 20th century soldiers in greatcoats, carrying packs, and either in ranks or in trenches. Professor Hidán Csaba, with whom Russ studied in the late 1990s, learned this system from his grandfather, a drill master in the later years of the Great War, and from his grandfather’s friends. [2] Russ will be the first to add that we lack much of the pedagogical apparatus for the system, but through study and his time in Hungary, he is confident that much of the physical game is correct. If I may offer a proof for it, I have found fencing his students extremely difficult—they are not duelists where most of us, whether we admit it or not, are.
Movement & Bones
Among the many hats Russ wears he’s also an expert in movement. A student of the Feldenkaris Method, his approach to martial arts includes many of the tenets of the Method, and, for the better. [3] To be quite honest, I had not heard of FM until this weekend, but have now seen, firsthand, its effectiveness. In grade school I fractured my right wrist badly—the bones were all but poking out of the skin. It did not set super well, and so for decades I’ve not been able to supinate fully. Years of fencing, racquet sports, etc. added layer upon layer of compensation for this issue. Then, in 2001, I was in a serious auto accident, one that injured my shoulder and released all the horrors that might not have appeared until later, tennis elbow chief among them.
Sunday, before the second day of class, Russ kindly took a look at my arm. We chatted first and I gave him the history and general problems I experience with it. He examined my arm, had me perform a few exercises, and then had me supinate again. I believe I said, well, shouted, “WTF…” in disbelief. Where I had been able to turn my hand maybe 120 degrees on a good day, here I was supinating to about 170 degrees. I couldn’t believe it. I have homework to do, and I’ve never been more motivated to do it, but I have far more mobility in my wrist, and best of all, did not experience the usual, weekly night of hell with a neck and backache I cannot treat save through heat, ice, and leaning into the pain. [4]
Lest one think that the seminar included certain smokable plants and esoterica, it didn’t. Russ explained much of what we were doing in terms of what bones, muscles, and tendons were working at any one time. The first half of Saturday, for example, explored balance, weight-shifting, and the biomechanics of the lunge. I said last April that Russ had changed my understanding and approach to teaching the lunge—this portion of the class added to that understanding, and, as before, though we spent a LOT of time lunging, no one was tired. For anyone who has spent time in an Olympic school and knows how challenging footwork drills can be, that should reveal just how effective Russ’ system is.
Hussar Sabre
Following the lunge portion, we then learned the rudiments of the Hussar sabre system Csaba imparted to Russ. The footwork, cutting mechanics, and options this system uses are simple, but not simplistic. The videos that Russ has shared on YouTube will give one a far better idea than any description I provide can, so please see the link below to his channel. [5] Of note, this is an unforgiving, effective, and brutally efficient system of sabre.
Russ and Noah demonstrated how to parry low-line
Significantly, this system assumes a curved sabre, and, takes complete advantage of false-edge cuts. Measure is generally closer than someone from my background is comfortable with, but this said it fits the system well. The first four cuts, one through four, bisect the target in an “X” formation: cut 1 descends from the right, cut 2 from the left; cut 3 ascends from the right, 4 from the left. There are other cuts, including horizontal blows, but we spent the most time with 1 and 2, and, options from there as both attacker and defender. This was especially valuable to me as having fought a school of people using this system, and knowing how challenging it is, I know have a better idea of how it works.
Fokos
Sunday we started out with more bio-mechanic work to prep us for working with the fokos or shepherd’s axe. Sometimes described Stateside as a long-hafted tomahawk (an apt analogy), this axe was long-used by shepherds, but was also used in the Great War. Russ showed us the military application he was taught, but also some of the “folk” uses. The latter, for example, might help one collar old uncle Boris after he overindulged at the pub. Like the sabre, one is using more of the hips and torso to propel the weapon and block. This means that one turns to stay behind the weapon.
One thing I did not anticipate, it not being my thing, was the amount of grappling one can do with the fokos, either against someone without the weapon or with one. The hooking ability of the axe can bind up not only an opposing fokos, but limbs. We explored this aspect in the “folk” portion, and like most folk arts a fair amount of learning how to use the axe to assist grappling is experimental. Russ armed us with a few principles, demonstrated a few set-ups, and then had us play with these actions and ideas.
The military portion was more intuitive for me as the starting position is one shared with bayonet. That is not an accident. Given the weight of the average rifle ca. 1915 the fokos makes for a much faster, nimble tool. Our brief exposure to this weapon only increased my sense of horror that attended trench warfare. [6] It’s a delightfully nasty weapon.
Take Aways
Russ told us our brains would be full and he wasn’t wrong. I’m still processing a lot of what we covered, never mind reeling from the fact I can supinate on my right side now. That still seems unreal.
At the risk of sounding sycophantic, Russ is one of a handful of instructors whom I would advise anyone to work with regardless of what he’s teaching. His knowledge is as deep as it is varied, his skill impressive, and he has a fantastic sense of humor. Moreover, and one sees this is his books, Russ is aware that not everyone is 19 and a paragon of fitness. As easily the oldest person at the seminar this weekend, I might have special appreciation for this fact, but what this means is that regardless of one’s shape, ability, or fitness level, Russ can and will work with you, and, you’ll get something out of it. A lot of something.
In addition to his videos (see link below), Russ is a prolific author, and produces works that combine the rigor of his academic training with an ease of reading that is often rare in our field. Buy his books and read them; watch his videos; and if you have a chance to take a class with him, whatever it is, take it. You need not thank me, but you might wish to. [7]
[4] I have spent a lot of time, off and on, studying both yoga and MBSR (mindfulness-based stress reduction), the latter thanks to the cancer program at OHSU (see for example https://www.apa.org/topics/mindfulness/meditation). Much of what we covered echoed what I have learned in these disciplines as well as in various PT sessions for injuries.
[6] My paternal grandfather fought in the Great War, and though he didn’t like to talk about it, I learned from my own father that between the sound of gas canisters and trench warfare, it was utterly terrifying. I can’t imagine having to face one of these axes–they may look small and delicate, but they’re effective and quick.
“Show, don’t tell,” was some of the best teaching/writing advice I ever received. To that end, I’m adding some specific drills to illustrate what I shared in the last post on this topic better (https://saladellatrespade.com/2023/10/31/yes-yes-very-nice-but-how-cultivating-defense/ ). Many, if not most of these drills, are venerable—if anything I may have adapted things here or there, but all of what follows are standard drills or types of drills. [1]
These progressive option drills start with a basic action and build in complexity. If a student is new or struggling, one may stop with the first version and work on that, or, aspects of it. For more advanced students, one can add an additional layer of difficulty as required. In the first example, for smallsword, one could simplify the drill even more by having the student initially deny the engagement and break measure. This would observe the “don’t get hit” rule, but not set them up well for a strike of their own.
Two things I didn’t add below, but which apply are first, that it’s important to switch roles, that is, have both the student and instructor initiate the action. This gives the student a chance to act as attacker and defender. Second, movement and varying distance is critical for success. If one starts “firm-footed,” that is, in place, fine, but then add movement. Chase the student, have the student chase the instructor; start out of measure, start in measure. For more advanced students, another option we can layer in is varying tempo and speed.
Drills & “Realism”
On their own, there is little inherent in most drills to make them impart a defensive mindset automatically. All the drills I provide below, for example, can be gamed to current tourney standards easily if one wishes. How “realistic” or not they are depends on explanation and reiterating correct principles over and over and over again within each element of the drill.
One of the most frequent questions I get in drills and lessons, and a good one, is “but why wouldn’t I just do this?” This simple question has become one of the single most important ways in which I push correct mindset. To cite one example from this past week, one student in a smallsword class asked me why they couldn’t just disengage and thrust against the glide in third. I told them that they could, but then asked what would happen if they did—what is the opponent doing? If the opponent is gliding to target, and one ignores that to strike… one is still hit. Not good enough. IF one wishes to disengage in response, fine, but don’t do so into absence, do so with opposition in the new line, a shift of the body to one side, or both. [2]
Ex. for Smallsword:
Option Drill with the Glizade/Glide in Third
To Start: S [student]: in guard of third I [instructor]: in guard of third *engaged on the outside line
Option 1A: Student Attacks
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own [3]
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and strikes target (forward target or chest)
2A:
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
I: parries 3rd, ripostes; S. parries in 3rd and ripostes [4]
3A
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
I: parries 3rd, begins riposte; S. disengages, engages in 4th, thrusts to target with opposition
4A:
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
I: makes dérobement to avoid glide and engages in 4th
S: via circular 3rd, retakes line and glides in 3rd to target
Option 2A: Instructor Attacks
I: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
I: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
S: parries 3rd, ripostes
2A:
I: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
I: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
S: parries 3rd, begins riposte; S. disengages, engages in 4th, thrusts to target with opposition
3A:
I: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
I: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
S: makes via dérobement avoids glide and engages in 4th
I: via circular 3rd, retakes line and glides in 3rd to target
S: parries in 3rd, ripostes
Ex. for Rapier:
Finta Scorsa or Advancing Feint of Marcelli
To Start:
S: in guard of prima
I: in guard of third
Option 1A: Student Attacks
S: in prima, makes false attack to the high inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line, and strikes target (forward or chest)
2A:
S: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte
S: parries in 3rd (or 4th depending) and ripostes, striking target
3A
S: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte low-line
S: takes 2nd, ripostes with opposition
4A:
S: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte low-line
S: takes 2nd and thrusts; I. parries 2nd, begins riposte
S: parries 2nd, ripostes with opposition
Option 2A: Instructor Attacks
I: in prima, makes false attack to the high inside line
S: parries in 4th
I: via cavazione /disengages to outside line, and thrusts
S: parries in 3rd, ripostes to target
2A:
I: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
S: parries in 4th
I: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; S. parries 3rd, begins riposte
I: disengages to 4th, starts riposte with opposition
S: disengages to 4th, ripostes with opposition to target
3A:
I: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
S: parries in 4th
I: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte low-line
S: takes 2nd and thrusts; I. parries 2nd, begins riposte
S: parries 2nd, ripostes with opposition
I: with parry in 2nd, passes left foot forward in order to seize guard
S: steps back, attacks to body
Ex. For Rapier and Dagger:
Working from Mezzaluna (Marcelli)
To Start:
S: in guard of mezzaluna
I: in fourth guard [5]
Option 1A: Instructor Attacks
I: in fourth guard, makes attack to the inside line
S: parries with dagger; with sword ripostes to target (forward or deep)
2A:
I: in fourth guard, makes false attack to the inside line
S: attempts to parry with dagger (downwards and out)
I: disengages to strike hand
S: parries with dagger (upwards and out), ripostes with sword to target
3A:
I: in fourth guard, makes beat attack against sword to open the inside line
S: parries in 4th to close line, ripostes with opposition
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out), ripostes with sword inside line
S: parries with dagger (downwards and out), ripostes to arm
Option 2A: Student Attacks
S: makes false attack to face
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out)
S: disengages and strikes arm or hand
2A:
S: makes false attack to face
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out); ripostes to arm
S: disengages and strikes to arm or hand
I: parries with dagger, ripostes
S: parries with dagger (downwards and out); ripostes to arm
3A
S: makes false attack to face
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out); ripostes to arm
S: makes circular parry in 3rd; ripostes via glide to outside line
I: parries in 3rd, checks with dagger, ripostes in high line over engagement [6]
S: parries with dagger (upwards); shifts right, ripostes to body
Ex. for Sabre:
Options from an Engagement in Second
S &I: in 2nd, at punta spada/last third/weak of the sword; then, start out of distance
Option 1A: Student Attacks
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: a. performs molinello ristretto or coupé to the arm [7] b. performs molinello ristretto via rising cut to the bottom of the arm
2A:
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: performs molinello ristretto via rising cut to the bottom of the arm
S: secondary attack: pushes through to thrust or cut flank
3A:
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: a. performs molinello ristretto or coupé to the arm
I: parries 3rd, cuts to head
S: parries 5th, cuts via molinello to head
4A:
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: performs molinello ristretto via rising cut to the bottom of the arm
S: secondary attack: pushes through to thrust or cut flank
I: parries in 2nd; ripostes via thrust
S: makes ceding parry in 2nd, ripostes via thrust to target
Option 1A: Instructor Attacks
I: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
S: moves to parry in 1st, parries via molinello to head
2A:
I: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
S: moves to parry in 1st
I. disengages and cuts to arm
S: parries 3rd, cuts head
3A:
I: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
S: moves to parry in 1st
I. disengages and cuts to arm
S: parries 3rd, cuts head
I: parries 5th, cuts to flank
S: parries in 2nd, thrusts to target
NOTES:
[1] To name one example, and analogous to the first one I share here, there is the discussion of options facing an opponent in 4th in Charles Besnard, Le maître d’arme liberal, 1653, 43 (63 [orig. French] and 161 [English] in the translation by Anne Chauvat and Rob Runacres, The Free Master of Arms, Glasgow, UK: Fallen Rook Publishing, 2022).
[2] The use of the inquartata or demi-volte, for example, would work in this instance.
[3] Two ways to vary this are to have the student find measure by a short extension of the arm from critical distance, in order to gain the weak with the middle of their weapon, or, have them step into measure to engage. The first is more conservative, but the second option is important—ideally, students learn to find measure and exploit it both ways.
[4] As set up here, the final actions are a battle of ceding/yielding parries and glides. Both help students cultivate better awareness of presence, varying pressure, measure, and opposition.
[5] Marcelli’s fourth guard for rapier and dagger is depicted thus:
Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, “fourth guard” (L) and “mezzaluna (R)
Mezzaluna, on the right, needs explanation. Chris Holzman points out that Terracusa e Ventura (1725) remarks that the tips of the two weapons are close enough to form a “half moon” shape. Here, there is a much wider gap between them. The accompanying text, however, tells us that the fencer “carries the dagger forward covering all the upper parts in such a way that the opponent only sees the chest below the dagger as target to strike.” [Holzman, Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019, 273; see also n. 115 that page.
Hà portato il Pugnale avanti, coprendosi tutte le parti superiori, di modo che il nemico vedesolo per bersaglio da colpire il petto per le parti di sotto il Pugnale [Marcelli, Regole della Scherma, Lib. I, Cap. III, 4]
[6] Here, the instructor, having parried the incoming sword in 3rd, uses the dagger to hold the opposing weapon in place in order to swing their weapon around obliquely to the right and up (assuming a right-hander) in order to threaten the face.
[7] The coupé , in Radaellian sabre as taken down by Del Frate, is also known as the colpo di cavazione or cavazione angolata. It is made by bending the forearm back a bit to increase power. Chris Holzman, in his gloss, remarks that it’s similar to the last step of the molinello. See Christopher A. Holzman, The Art of the Dueling Sabre, Staten Island, NY: SKA Swordsplay Books, 2011, 234.
Joshua and Noah, two of CEHF’s “Death Needle Cultists,” drilling 29 Oct. 2023. The drill was “foil tag”
This past weekend, while mixing with some of my favorite fellow Death Needle Cultists at Capitale Escrime in Salem, Oregon, one of our number informed me that they had started reading my last two posts. [1] Not going to lie, any time someone tells me they read anything I write it’s nice to hear, but given that the handful of people who do are—for the most part—not in North America it’s a double treat when I encounter a person who reads these posts and lives Stateside. He related that he found what I had to say in re defense over offense in historical fencing appealing, but wanted to know just how one can better cultivate that preference. Damn good question.
What follows are a few suggestions for ways to incorporate the notion of “don’t get hit” into both lessons and partner drills. For the former, this is advice to fellow instructors, and it will read a little differently than the recommendations for students. It’s not that a teacher’s perspective won’t help students, because it should, but that it falls to instructors to make what we call “purposeful mistakes” in order to train fencers. No fencer, least as I see it, should be drilling poor actions. That may be my former competitive experience speaking, but I think it makes sense and holds as a general principle.
Start at the Beginning
The first and most important thing one can do is assess their current thinking and approach, honestly, and see where it may fall short of the “don’t be hit” rubric. How often does one choose to parry over counterattacking, and, how often is one hit when they do so? How often does one double? At what distance is one in most bouts? Does one use measure or jump in and slog it out? How often is one hit when attacking?
The answers to these questions, importantly, cut both ways. As I attempted to point out in the last post, we don’t fence alone and what our partners in the ring or on piste are doing matters too. If, for example, one selects the right time to attack, at the right measure, and makes a decent action, but is continually hit as they do so, it may be that one’s opponent is making the mistake. They may be counterattacking rather than parrying, for example, and though one is “hit,” the fact is that the opponent should have defended. There is considerable static around this issue for most of us—in the quest to be honest we can easily gaslight ourselves into thinking we just aren’t doing something right when in fact we are, or, arrogantly, we can assume we are doing it right and that everyone else is making errors. Both poles present problems. Objective, well-trained third parties can do much to reduce the static.
One’s instructor (provided they have the necessary training) or one’s skilled colleagues can assist in assessing where the faults are. One caveat: we have to be open to criticism for this to work, and, those providing the insights succeed best when these evaluations are shared with compassion and in the spirit of collective improvement. If these keen eyes discover critical mistakes, say an arm too open on the attack, the body moving before hand and weapon, or that one is always in close measure, then these are good places to start corrections. This is a strong argument for teaching fencers how to analyze actions and bouts.
Mindfulness & Defense
I chose “mindfulness” purposefully and not in the sense of tired suburban affirmative wall art. [2] I mean it literally—we have to focus on defense consciously. We should anyway, but because we fence with friends and are thus not fighting for our lives, and because we wear safety gear and are thus unlikely to be injured, it’s super easy not to think about defense. We assume it without realizing that we are assuming only actual injury, not the theoretical injury we incur when making poor decisions in a bout. Consider, for example, how many times we are hit in the average practice. We get used to it and lose the fear we often have just starting out. To combat this, we must actively think about defense.
To do this with any success means emphasizing defense in every aspect of our practice. We have to create a culture of it. I try to reinforce this a few ways, but perhaps the most important is in always treating the weapon as if it’s sharp and all actions as if one might be hurt should they be struck. For example, I often discuss the extension of the weapon as projecting “the sharp thing” toward one’s opponent. In demonstrating and explaining a particular action, in evaluating an exchange in a bout, in answering questions, in any and every way I can I treat and attempt to project a sense that we are training as if we were going to need these skills. It’s artificial, but I’ve seen firsthand how it changes the way people fence.
scarto, from Masiello
The same language and attitude permeate all instruction. For example, in teaching Radaellian molinelli and the scarto, I explain why the latter is critical in certain actions. The molinelli are large cuts, made by rotating at the elbow, and thus can expose the arm if one is in measure. The scarto, because it means we start the cut leaning back (so just out of distance) and let the cut pull us forward reduces the chance of a stop-cut as we attack. Often, a student will ask what to do if someone counterattacks anyway. It’s a good question, but also an opportunity to reinforce the reality of the sharp thing—assuming one made the molinelli at the right time, from the right distance, then the opponent—if they’re smart—should have only one thought: stopping that giant cut. In “HEMA,” sadly, more often than not people choose to race to strike and arrive first, but wholly ignore the theoretical reality behind this choice. Defense is conservative—given a choice between a chancy stop-cut and the security of a parry, the parry is the better option.
Practice like The Blades are Sharp
Announcing that everyone should treat the blades as if real at the start of class or lesson is not enough. We have to create and maintain that attitude throughout practice. Here are a few ideas that emphasize different aspects of fencing defensively.
Mask Tag/Foil Tag: this is a drill that reduces everything to two options. The purpose is to get people moving and to consider how measure not only helps them reach target, but also avoid being one. In the sabre version, Mask Tag, students can only make a cut to the top of the head. That’s it. They cannot parry, only use their feet to evade. I remind them that it’s best to attack when someone is in negative balance or occupied, when they are about to step or make an action, when they are recovering into guard. Much of the game then consists of attempting to lure someone in to take advantage of the opponent’s initial action, or, luring them in to attack so that they fall just short of target and then strike them as they recover. For smallsword and rapier, the drill is the same only the attack is restricted either to the forward target or torso (thrusts only). One variation on this is to then allow each fencer a single parry-riposte in their bout; this means having to select the ideal time to use it.
Only Parries: in this style of bout, one can attack or defend, but cannot make any sort of counterattack. The goal is to focus on defense, and, condition fencers to the choice to parry over attempting attacks into tempo. When first introducing it, fencers often realize just how often they are reacting with counters automatically, a key first step to converting what is automatic to what is chosen.
In Drill: no matter what partner drill I have students do, no matter what weapon, from the initial demonstration and explanation to feedback as I circulate through the pairs, emphasis is on making the actions the way one would were the weapons sharp. It is easy to get lazy in drills, to go through the motions, especially if the drill is familiar. Part of my job is keeping everyone vigilant, reminding them that the glizade in tierce must successfully create opposition as it goes to target, that the beat in sabre must shift the opposing steel from the line and not just make contact to work, and that counterattacks work best if there is time both to strike in tempo and parry riposte.
In Bouting: it’s not always possible to provide a director for each bout, so I put the onus on students. In their bouts, I encourage them yet again to proceed as if it getting hit would send them to the hospital or the dirt. When I can direct them, at the halt I’ll have them analyze the action, provide some feedback, and then we collectively check what happened against the “don’t get hit” rule.
Instructors and Cultivating “Realism”
Though a strong advocate for collaborative learning, much of the culture of a club is set or directed by its instructors. We tend to attract, or at least retain, those with a similar outlook or who come to adopt our perspective. It is easiest for us to inculcate a sense of realism in individual lessons; they’re just more focused since we’re only working with one student.
Everything above holds in individual lessons as well, but in this context we can do something our students shouldn’t do on their own—present them with poor actions to exploit. In terms of pushing better approaches or correcting ones already in play, time spent one-on-one supporting or rebuilding a student’s particular skills can do much to improve their overall performance and understanding.
For example, often as a warm-up or cool-down, I have students work counterattacks. For smallsword and rapier this is typically an arrest drill; for sabre this is usually a stop-cut drill. I see this as not only good eye-hand-foot coordination exercises, but as ways to hone the way they should be viewing counterattacks. To reiterate I’m not against counterattacks, they have their place, but I am against overuse of them and want them made correctly.
Arrest/Parry-Riposte: I approach this the way my masters did it and how they taught me, that is, I chase the student by walking forward with a poor attack. In smallsword and rapier (or foil and epee, whatever you’re using), this means attacking from third or sixth with the inside of my arm more exposed, then the outside, then the underside. The student takes measure (a critical step) and makes the arrest to the exposed target, but importantly then adjusts again in order to parry my attack and riposte. What I do is simulate an attack that doesn’t stop, though when the arrest is made really well it will, quite literally, arrest my arm.
It might help to visualize it this way. To make the counter, the student reaches out to strike as they begin the initial retreat; they either land it or miss and then immediately take another small or half step back to parry and riposte.
Stop-cut/Parry-Riposte: the sabre version is exactly the same only I substitute cuts for the thrusts to the inside, outside, and underside of my arm. For more advanced students, I will have them make stop-thrusts as well. In Radaellian sabre our preferred guard is 2nd, and thrusts from 2nd, followed by parries in 1st, 2nd, or 5th (sometimes referred to as the “first triangle” of parries) are quick to perform.
Perhaps the greatest value in drilling counterattacks this way is that it conditions fencers to make counterattacks at the right time and from the right distance. So often in HEMA counters are just knee-jerk reactions to motion toward one, whether threatening or not. Critical in this drill is the instructor’s follow through—unless the arrest or stop-cut actually stops the arm, the instructor should not break off the attack. The student should be forced to consider defense and parry or at the very least, if the arrest was successful, break measure to remain safe. With period weight weapons this is easier to do, but regardless the student must face in drill what they will realistically experience in the assault.
The Right Atmos
If we fight as we drill (I think we do), then reproducing as faithfully as we can actual conditions, that is conditions that assume the sharp point and edge, we’ll only help our students realize and achieve a more thoughtful, accurate, and sensible bout. For coaches, whether taking some drill from synoptic tables, a treatise, or devising them oneself, be sure to ask how realistic the drill is, and, what steps one needs to take in order to support students in making combat-logical decisions. [3] For students, conceiving of drills not only as skill-building exercises, but also as opportunities to reflect upon the originally deadly purpose of what we do, can do much to make us more effective fighters, as well as help us appreciate just how beautiful and well-designed past fight systems could truly be.
NB: obviously this post addresses those who are more concerned with achieving some semblance of realism in historical fencing. Not everyone cares so much, and that’s fine. It’s important to me, because I don’t really understand the point of historical fencing otherwise, but I recognize that there are different points of view, that we get into this stuff for different reasons. It is not my intent to disparage other points of view—I may not agree with them, but I see no reason to put others down for the choices that make them happy. You be you.
NOTES:
[1] Though we have not settled on it yet, there is a fair chance that Capitale Escrime will either change the name to “Death Needle Cultists” or incorporate it say as a tag-line, e.g. “Home of the Death Needle Cultists.” It’s catchy and might attract more to the cause.
[2] There is nothing wrong with mindfulness, save when used by snake-oil gurus, but this said I typically have some of the lyrics from Jonathan Bree’s “You’re so Cool” in my head whenever I see the word. Cf. https://youtu.be/gxRq23qVE8A?si=VdbPsGIi4bwR0I9U[3] By combat-logical decisions I mean those one might make should the blades be sharp. With older works, those from a time when the sword was still a reality in war or personal quarrels and/or self-defense, drills more likely reflect the concerns of those who relied on instruction to preserve their lives. This is not, however, universally true. Many late 18th and 19th century works geared more for academic foil play rather than smallsword can include actions that would be unwise on the ground. To name one example, the extremely high hand in lunging that one sees in works like that we see in La Boëssière (1818) is extreme. Earlier works recommend a hand-height generally between the mouth and nose. Cf. https://saladellatrespade.com/2022/11/11/reach-for-the-sky-hand-height-in-the-smallsword-lunge/
This post is a follow-up to the last [“They Doth Cut too Much,” Methinks, 19 Oct. 2023] and takes up, again…, the issue of how we make a touch. This issue has been on my mind a lot in part because of teaching, but also because my current book project requires me to explain the challenge of hitting without being hit as simply and clearly as possible. While I’ve discussed this often, which is to say like the drone of a bagpipe in a particularly long air, it’s one of these critical issues that we can never really emphasize enough. The proper mindset determines everything we do.
In brief, rather than focusing on making the touch, we should focus on trying not to be hit. It’s easy to say, but far harder to put into practice. The old adage “nothing ventured, nothing gained” might work in dating, but it’s rubbish as a maxim for self-defense. We focus too much on offense. While the same conservatism would help Olympic fencers, it’s less necessary for those in foil or sabre thanks to the conventions of right-of-way (ROW); epee fencers, on the other hand, would certainly benefit. If the entire point of historical fencing is to approach as best we can how swords might have been used in the past, then fencing in ways that run counter to that ethos is nonsensical.
“HEMA,” the popular expression of historical fencing, has been around long enough that it’s likely that many newer fencers, because they have not had to face the issues that helped create the movement, may be wholly unaware of the place that attempting realism had/has in shaping “HEMA.” To enter this world now is, for the most part, to enter a sword-based sport similar to Olympic fencing, only without the pedagogy, organization, and recognition. This means that many fencers in “HEMA” are, in good faith, learning to approach things more concerned with competitive rule-sets than the logic of the sharp point. So ingrained is the competitive outlook that even those not actively competing often adopt the same methods and mentality. Social media, YouTube, and a few of the organizations, such as the HEMA Alliance, present a seemingly unified mode of play and purpose.
As a caveat, there’s nothing wrong with competition—despite all the bitching I’ve done here about problems with it, the fact is I like competition and have enjoyed it myself. The longer I look at these problems, the more convinced I am that many of them, such as doubles, obsession with the afterblow, etc., all might be remedied by better attention to defense rather than making the touch.
The Logic of the Sharp Point
At the risk of sounding reductionist or like yet another would-be western Zen guru, in the end there is nothing but the sharp point. It is all that matters. The entire purpose of fencing is defense—it’s in the name. “Fencing” derives from Middle Engligh fens, a shorter version of defens, a word used to denote defense, resistance, even fortification (the ME term ultimately comes down via medieval Latin defensum). Italian scherma and French escrime both derive, originally, from a Frankish word, skirmjan, “to protect or defend.” [1] While the denotation of words over time often change, it is worth noting the consistency in the meaning of the terms for fencing, and, how the source tradition reflects the same concern behind what these words mean. Sure, we read a lot about offense, but no master I can recall suggests rushing into the fray minus concern for personal safety or suggesting that winning a contest via afterblow is legitimate.
Maestro Nick Evangelista, so far as I know, is the origin for this phrase, the logic of the sharp point, but what he describes is, and should be, self-evident. [2] Every action we make, every decision, should reflect this logic. Having watched Olympic sabre tank in the 1990s, and having the misfortune to watch HEMA make many of the same mistakes ever since, I believe that this same logic should be present in competition. When it is absent, we see a lot of, to put it bluntly, stupid actions.
It is human nature to game systems, to find ways to work around them. We love loopholes. I’ve not stayed current on the latest trends in bio-social-anthropology or evolutionary psychology, but the studies that emerged when I did were sobering. Put briefly, if people believe they can get away with something, they’ll go for it. [3] As great a tragedy as that can be, when our rule-sets then follow suit and make the loophole canon, it’s a far greater calamity. Now a source of authority enshrines the mistake. Given the value most in HEMA place on competitive success (despite all the flaws in that assumption), to argue anything counter to established practice is treated like heresy. This is true no matter how well-supported the supposition might be. Emotion and identity typically beat out reason and evidence. Concurrently, the opinion of some “name” or “HEMA celebrity” trumps most arguments, however sound.
There is little one can do about human nature, and thus, little one can do to fix the cognitive bias that affects HEMA. Moreover, the increasing distrust of experts, in most any field, compounds the problem. The best we can probably do, following Voltaire, is tend our own garden. [4]
Fencing with the Logic of the Sharp Point
What follows is a quick summary of my approach. I’ll use smallsword and rapier as an example as these are the weapons I teach most (I follow the same methodology for sabre). Nothing here is new or uniquely mine—as I see it this is just doing what we should be doing IF the swords were sharp. Fencing this way requires far more concentration on the imagined danger than it does anything else. After all, we do this for fun and wear safety gear, and thus outside the lunatic fringe should have nothing to worry about. [5]
The first rule is “don’t get hit.” If there is a choice between making the touch and being hit, and avoiding the hit, I encourage students to choose the latter. Even if this means losing the opportunity to riposte, better that than be hit. Defense should govern all, and so I teach them to defend unless they are certain that an attack has some chance of reaching target without danger to themselves. For rapier and smallsword especially this means selecting those actions which provide opposition and which allow them to recover either behind the point, with a parry, or with a beat. This conservatism also means choosing the extended or advanced target over the body. The hand, wrist, and forearm allow one to strike a vital target—were the weapons sharp such a blow might end the fight—and at the same time allow one to stay farther away and better able to defend (there is textual support for attention to the forward target). [6] In order to defend well students must develop a keen sense of measure, tempo, and judgment, three of the most important universals in fencing. Attendant to observing these principles they must be able to move well, quickly, effectively, efficiently, and with balance. They must possess excellent point control. They must be able to read the opponent quickly.
It takes time to develop these skills, a lot of time. There is no royal road to skill acquisition. This said, regular practice, proper drill, and the right attitude can do more than one might think. It goes without saying that proper instruction is everything.
Institutionalized Suicidal Tendencies
My horrific GenX puns aside, HEMA is quickly institutionalizing (if it hasn’t already) an approach to fencing that would get most people killed were the weapons real. [7] The number of students I talk to who experience a peculiar gaslighting in bouts grows all the time. For example, one of the students I see, and who fences at another club as well, has been frustrated by the lack of concern colleagues at the latter seem to possess in bouts. Even when he has the initiative and launches a good thrust, one they should parry, they’re as likely to make some counterattack with a feeble cut than anything else. They have zero awareness of the problem, but my friend does because he fences as best he can to the logic of the sharp point. It is far harder to see this clearly when everyone around us sees it another way. We’ve chatted at length about it, and I’ve assured him that from what I’ve seen of him fencing, what I’ve experienced bouting with him, and from what I know of other clubs, he’s doing everything right, but, can’t and shouldn’t expect others to know that.
This is an uncomfortable place to be. This same friend wants his mates to improve too, but they won’t so long as they continue to fence like they’re playing a game of tag. Our bouts shouldn’t be about who hit first, but who hit and was not hit. I’d be at a loss for why this is even an issue, because it seems so obvious, but the truth is before us: the people playing tag think they are doing it right.
Earlier I mentioned the problem of cognitive bias: this is the best explanation for what my friend, what so many of us experience fighting in genpop HEMA. [8] The people making that ridiculous cut in rapier against a thrust they should be parrying believe they are acting correctly. It matches what they see in tournament footage, what their clubmates do, and so, ergo, it must be right. So, how do we overcome this problem? Can we overcome it?
I’d suggest as a first step entertaining the possibility that we might have something wrong. With historical fencing, we have copious sources against which to compare what we’re doing, and, in some cases, some pretty decent scholarship about it. All of us have to do this, as painful as it can be sometimes, because no one is infallible. We must consider the context of what we’re learning and place that next to our context which, for the most part, is very different. We should also compare notes, which here means visiting other clubs, taking lessons with people at other schools, and fencing with as many different people as we can (the more skilled, the better). If we do these things and are able to step back from it all, and analyze it, we are more likely to see the patterns, and within those patterns, any deviation. Maybe that deviation is correct, maybe not, but it can no more be taken on faith as anything else.
Let’s use my posts as an example—if you read them, thank you, but please go look up these topics and see what others say. Check my facts. I do my best to fact-check and support everything, but I goof up too. It’s one reason I leave comments on and a contact feature on this website—so I can make corrections when people share them with me. Watch footage on YouTube and look for suicidal fencing; look for more defensive fencing. Read. Chat with people. Collect all this stuff and then compare it. I’m not the betting sort, but I’d wager that if you do, and accept the universal principles outlined in so many works on fencing, you may notice the same set of problems. The more of us who do, the more likely we might effect any change for the better in HEMA.
NOTES:
[1] Cf. “escrime” at Trésor de la Langue Française informatisé,
[3] In the 1990s, early 2000s, two scholars at my alma mater (Leda Cosmides and Joh Tooby) produced some excellent work on this topic. See Leda Cosmides, et al., “Detecting Cheaters,” in Trends in Cognitive Sciences 9: 11 (2005): 508-510; a wonderful, but likely dated book on the topic is The Adapted Mind: Evolutionary Psychology and the Generation of Culture, Jerome H. Barkow, Leda Cosmides, and John Tooby, eds., New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1992; Jens Van Lier, et al., “Detecting Cheaters without Thinking: Testing the Automaticity of the Cheater Detection Module,” in PloS One 8: 1 (20-13): https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3547066/
I’m no prophet, but the divisions we see within HEMA will likely formalize in time—this is a pity, but understandable. Many of us, myself included, already believe our approach to be different enough that it no longer qualifies as “HEMA” (as typically defined and expressed). It’s one reason I prefer “historical fencing” or “historical martial arts” over the usual acronym. I’ve covered this too often to regurgitate it here, so will leave it at that (see for one examples, “Disparate Places, Liminal Spaces,” https://saladellatrespade.com/2021/06/15/disparate-places-liminal-spaces/ ).
[5] I hit these notes as often as the others, but again, it bears repeating. There is a weird fetishizing of injury in HEMA that I don’t understand. Whenever someone shares some fb post of some smiling fencer sporting their latest battle-wound I hear the words of Bismarck to a young German cadet. I forget where I read it (still trying to find the citation), but supposedly the young man thought to impress the chancellor with his scars. The latter supposedly remarked “In my day we parried with the blade, not our faces.” Von Bismarck was a redoubtable schlager and fought over seventy duels as a student.
[6] I’m not a fan of self-aggrandizement, but since I put a lot of time into this topic, may I suggest an article I wrote, “The Curious Case of the Forward Target in Rapier and Small Sword,” April 2023, available here: https://saladellatrespade.com/instructors/research-media/
[7] The title of this piece is a nod to the 1983 hit “Institutionalized” by Suicidal Tendencies, a band out of Venice, California, and one of the first punk/thrash hits to get much radio attention. See https://youtu.be/LoF_a0-7xVQ?si=c37NGGbWWPi1k6hn
Capo Ferro’s lunge, p. 49 in _Great Representation of the Art and Use of Fencing_ (1610)
In a recent discussion with a good friend and fellow fencer about differences in perception of success when bouting, we got to talking about how this plays out specifically for rapier. He’s been frustrated when bouting with the folks at his other school, namely by the lack of concern they have for their own theoretical safety, and, their over-reliance on cuts. Having spilt so much binary ink on the issue of failure to focus on how safely one makes a touch (over just making it no matter what), I’ll leave that aside, for now, and focus on the matter of cuts in rapier. [1]
It’s not that cuts didn’t exist within the canon of attacks for rapier, because they absolutely did, but that they tend to enjoy a disproportionate amount of attention in “HEMA.” Moreover, there are some clubs, perhaps the one my friend attends included, that opt for a cut over a thrust more often than they probably should. By and large, the rapier was a thrusting weapon; this use only intensified as rapier play developed, a fact demonstrated well within the surviving corpus of texts. The rapier of Agrippa and that of Marcelli, while similar in many ways, likely boasted an important difference: blade width and overall weight. [2]
Generally, cutting swords have a wider blade profile—there are more knowledgeable people than I am who can verify this. Gus Trim, Tinker, and Peter Johnsson, among others, can provide far more specific, detailed answers. Though not always critical depending on sword-type, many cutting swords weigh a bit more than those for thrusting do. [3] Earlier rapiers tended to boast wider blades than many later ones. None of this, however, was monolithic—there was no committee for rapier width and use. Older swords stayed in service or were re-hilted. Newer swords might reproduce a cherished heirloom. There was the issue of individual preference. And, surviving examples demand caution as not only are there many fakes produced for rich collectors in the late 19th/early 20th centuries, but some extant swords are likely an amalgam of different weapons.
With extant examples all over the map, and few in number relatively speaking, a far better guide to use, at least for suggested use, resides in the treatises on rapier. To cover more than a couple here would be the length of a bible, and since I’m told my posts are “too long” (really? Does no one read anything longer than a headline?), I’ll cover a small sample. What follows is a picture painted with broad strokes—individual texts may be more cut-happy, but compared to the majority of texts and the overall representation of the rapier as thrusting weapon the take-away is that the point is primary, not the edge.
Camillo Agrippa (1553)
Significantly, Agrippa assumed cuts as part of the fencer’s repertoire of actions. This said, he makes it clear that he vastly prefers the point, and, that it is superior to cuts. For example, Camillo in discussing his first guard wrote
Moreover, some people say they can raise a man out of a guard in which he holds his hand extended in this way by cutting with mandritti and riversi, with defensive weapons such as the dagger or the cape, or by seizing the blade with a guanto di presa. I reply that this is nonsense, for, as I have often repeated, someone who tries to beat the point of your sword aside with mandritti is only fooling themselves. That is because you can, in a single action, without moving your arm any, lower the point a little bit to evade the enemy’s sword, aim at his right side, extend your arm while rotating your hand, and step forwards with your right foot to hit him.
Et rispondendo à quelli che affermano poter levar’ uno facilmete da questa Guardia, tenendo tanto innanzi la mano, con mandritti, riversi, & co arme diffensive, come son oil pugnale, et la cappa, overo pigliandola co’l guanto da presa, fargliela distuile, dico replicando quan to ho detto molte volte, che s’ingannano d’ assai, difignando con loro mandritti, batterli la punta de la spada, perche senza movere punt il braccio dal suo loco, abbassando alquanto la detta punta, col schifar la spada contraria, & volgendo la mano in giro, verso la parte destra del nemico, et brevemente, co’l springere d’ esssa mano, & col passer innazi, di pie dritto, tutto in un tratta potrebbe invester l’ aversario… [4]
It is not that Agrippa eschewed these cuts, for he also says just a little farther into the same chapter that one can easily make these cuts from his guard of prima. He also mentions that these kinds of cuts can be useful if the opponent attempts to beat or seize one’s weapon—this implies an attack into tempo from a secure position and distance. It does not suggest using cuts as a direct attack. Elsewhere Agrippa mentions using cuts, such as a riversi to the flank or leg, from grappling distance, which makes sense: it’s harder to bring the point to bear from close measure:
However, if the enemy is so quick that he can make a stramazzone to your head, abandon the first technique, parry him close to your hilt, and follow with the same grappling technique, raising your right hand and aiming the point at his right side in second so that he has to parry—whereupon you can attack him with a riverso to the flank or leg.
Ma se il nemico fosse cosi presto, che volgesse co un stramzazzone per testa, Questo abbandonarebbe il principal colpo, ch’ io dissi di sopra, & volgendo di croce, pararebbe al contrario, presso al fornimento de la sua spada, & sequirebbe à far’ la presa sopradetta, alzando la mano dritta in alto, con la punta verso il fianco suo destro, con la volta di mano, & benche il nemico parata che havesse la Seconda di questo, potesse offenderlo d’un riverso nel fianoc, overo ne la gamba. [5]
Throughout his text, Agrippa does not discount the cut, but uses it in specific instances. For the most part, he advocates using the point whenever possible, and, it makes sense—thrusts are faster, and, more devastating.
Nicoletto Giganti (1606)
Giganti begins his work with the sword alone as “carrying a dagger, targa or rotella is not common in every part of the world,” and even so armed one might lose them in a combat and be left only with the sword. [6] His work starts with focus on the thrust. After introducing guards and counter-guards, and explaining measure and tempo, the very next thing Giganti shares is his take on the direct thrust via lunge.
It is not until his twelfth plate that he mentions cuts, and concerning that plate the topic is delivering a thrust in tempo against someone making a cut. [7] Two plates later he discusses defense against someone making a cut to the leg. [8] It is little surprise given his treatment of cuts in the portion dealing with the sword alone that when it comes to sword and dagger Giganti is also concerned more with defense against cuts than using them. Both cover methods for parrying a head-cut with the dagger, the second being specific to countering a riverso. [9]
This treatise is popular in “HEMA,” and Leoni’s edition is fantastic as he does much to help the reader understand not only terminology, but also the pedagogical approach and principles. Emphasis throughout this text is mostly on the thrust; where he covers cuts, it’s mostly in reference to defending against them.
Capo Ferro (1610)
NO idea what’s up with the formatting
This master’s work, another popular in “HEMA,” like those covered so far, is no exception for preferring the thrust to the cut. In chapter 12, “Of Strikes” (Del ferire), section 116, Capo Ferro states
The cut is of little importance, since it is impossible to use it in the narrow measure. The arc described by my arm and sword leaves me completely open and makes me lose measure; instead, it gives the opponent a good tempo in which to hit me. Although the cut is of some utility, the thrust can always be employed more fruitfully from the same measure and in the same tempo.
Il taglio è di poco momento; perche non posso ferire di taglio nelle dette distanza della misura stretta, che per il giro del braccio, e della spada, ch’io fo, non mi scuopra tutto è non dia misura, & tempo all’annversario di ferirmi, & se pure si trova qualche utilità di taglio non è però, che nella medesima misura, & nell’ istesso tempo non si possa mostrare una maggior della punta. [10]
Throughout his treatise, Capo Ferro’s focus in on the thrust, and in fact, he has a separate section near the end entitled “Some Principles regarding the Cut” (Dalcuni Termini del Taglio), where he makes this clear:
I had thought of adding some illustrations on how to deliver and parry cuts (plus a good number of actions on this topic), but I realized I can accomplish the same with a brief description of the following principles.
Ha vevo fra me stesso risoluto di appresetarvi aclune figure, che vi mostrassero il mod di coltelliggiare, sì del parare, come del ferire, & in quest’attione mostrarvi molti effetti, ma considerando, che quello, che potevo fare con le figure, possolo ancor fare co questi pochid’avertimenti, che vi propongo… [11]
Of note, Capo Ferro mentions cuts within the body of the work, often as options in certain situations, but his plates and the focus is, again, on thrusts.
Francesco Alfieri (1640)
On first glance this master might be said to have advocated for the cut more in his treatise, La Scherma/On Fencing, so it seemed fitting to include him. After all, if he provides an argument for the inclusion of the cut in our own rapier practice, then it would be remiss not to discuss him. However, a close reading will indicate that to say Alfieri was different than most other masters would be to misread him.
In chapter 18, on attacks and types of strikes, Alfieri mentions two types of attacks, the thrust and the cut. He then enumerates the various cuts and explains their meaning, e.g. riverso is a backhand cut, a mandritto a forehand cut. Importantly, just after the explication of cuts, he writes
It is common for all fencers to consider the thrust far preferable to the cut. The reason they point to is that the thrust is more lethal, which is something I don’t necessarily agree with. A shorter, wider sword wielded by a strong man can deliver cuts every bit as fearsome as thrusts—which means that the this reason must be complemented by other considerations to explain the most basic difference between these two modes of attack.
Tutti li Schermitori comunemente vogliano, che’l ferir di punta sia di gran longa, megliore che’l ferir di taglio, e la ragione che ne adducano è, perche la punta sia più mortale del taglio, io non resto in questo sodisfatto, I tagli d’una Spada corta, larga, è d’un braccio forte, si deveno cosi temere quanto le punte, e però alla ragion de gl’altri, par à me che si debbano aggiungere alter considerazioni le quali mostrano con maggior son damento la lor differeza. [12]
The master provides four additional reasons for the value of the thrust over a cut. First, one uses more of the weapon to cut, and casting so much of the weapon makes it easier for the opponent to defend since there is more of the weapon to intercept. Second, the thrust is faster—it traverses a shorter path to target; cuts, he adds, may be stopped by bone and not reach the vital organs. Third, because the arc of a cut is slow, it allows an opponent potentially more time to anticipate one’s attack and prepare for it. Lastly, cuts tire the arm as they require more energy and motion to make, not to mention often uncovering the body.
Plate 5, Alfieri, _La Scherma_, 1640
In his first dedicated section on the attack, Chapter V, Alfieri covers the stocata longa and the two principal cuts (due Tagli principali). Leoni translates the chapter title as “How to Perform the Lunge: The Two Main Cuts,” which obscures the importance of the word stocata. As he himself explains in the glossary of his translation of Giganti, stoccata is a general term for the thrust. [13] In the Italian the title of the chapter reads Come si Tiri la stocata longa, e i due Tagli principali, or, somewhat loosely, “How to Lunge the Thrust, and the Two Main Cuts.” A reader unacquainted with the original text (and Italian), will likely read this as “how to lunge the two main cuts.”
The Italian corpus includes a number of terms for the lunge—arguably stocata longa might be taken as merely a lunge, but next to the passage the title corresponds point for point. To translate this as a lunge versus a lunge via thrust gives undue precedence to the cut. In this very section, Alfieri indicates that the lunge with thrust comes first:
To learn how to deliver it [the lunge], place yourself in the mixed guard and move your hand, sword, arm, foot and shoulder all in a single tempo. By doing so, your thrust will reach farther, travel faster and your attack will be virtually impossible to parry.
Per imparare à tirar la bisogna ritrovarisi nella Guardia Mista, e in un tempo unire à far questo moto, la mano, la Spada, il braccio, il piede, e la spalla, con queste circostanze s’allonga il colpo, va con velocita, ed è poco meno che irreparabile… [14]
Placed together, the direct thrust and the two chief cuts, the mandritto and riverso, illustrate this author’s stance in re cuts: they belong in one’s arsenal. The next chapter likewise mixes these attacks, but notably starts with thrusting options. In sum, while Alfieri clearly valued the cut and provided options for it, he covers the thrust first and argues for its primacy.
Francesco Marcelli (1686)
As a last and late example, I’ve selected the text from which I work most, Marcelli’s Rules of Fencing. That changes in practice had occurred since Agrippa is clear—Marcelli remarks that
In order to fulfill my duty, because the cuts are not so frequently practiced, I must not omit their explanation, and also teach them to avail themselves of them in tempo, so that the studious disciple can, in a regulated manner, avoid the danger of it and turn it to their advantage. Nonetheless, with the warning made a little earlier, that the cuts are less effective than the thrusts, I have intended to delay the cuts for these; since one, as much as the other, can bring grave danger to the actor when they are performed out of their tempo; and those, as much as these, are well-made when they are made in tempo.
Non perche non siano tanto frequetemente pratticati I Tagli, devo tralascirare la di loro spiegatione, sì per coplire al mio debito, come anche per insegnarli à servirsense à Tempo, acciò lo studioso discepolo possa, con la regolata maniera, sfuggirne il pericolo, & insieme convertirlo in proprio vantaggio. E nè meno, con avertire poco fà, che i Tagli sono meno efficacy delle pute, hò inteso di posponerli à questse; poscia che, cosi gl’uni, come l’altre, possono apportar grave pregiuditio all’Attore, quado sono operate furoi del suo Tempo; e tanto quelli, quanto queste sono bone da farsi, quanod sono fatte à Tempo. [15]
Like Alfieri, Marcelli is quick to note that the cut is slower, larger, and therefore dangerous to make out of tempo. He goes on to say
The cut is called the son of the thrust because it must proceed in second intention in order not to be at risk (making it in first intention) of the evident danger of the opponent’s offense. The reason is that the cut is an action very poor for defense, in itself, as it goes to wound and exposes the whole body in the tempo that it makes its circle. It is not like the thrust that, in going forward and returning back, always moves along a line and keeps the body continually covered under the weapon, and is found in presence of the opponent.
Il Taglio si chiama figlio della punta, perche si deve sequire di Seconda intentione, per no arrischiarsi (facendolo di Prima) ad evidente pericolo dell’offesa dell’avversario. Periòche il Taglio è un’Attione per se stessa molto povera di difesa, nel mentre, che và per offendere, e scopre tutto il corpo nel tempo, che fa il suo circolo; e non è come la punta, la quale hell’andare avanti, e nel tornare in dietro, camina sempre per una linea, e mantiene continuamente il corpo coperto sotto l’armi, e si trova in persenza del nemico. [16]
The rest of the chapter introducing cuts describes the various specific uses and then ends with Marcelli’s suggestion that cuts be reserved largely for ripostes:
In summary all of the past discussion it is gathered that the cut must not be made to occur in the first intention, that is to say, other than as a riposte. This is for two reasons; first, because it is a universal rule of fencing that in all its actions, in order to make them perfect, it is necessary to make them sudden so that the velocity of the movement makes them invisible to the opponent’s eye so that he cannot parry them. If the cut, therefore, is also enumerated among those, and is it inferior in perfection and goodness to none when it is performed with regulation, it must also be based on that universal and invariable maxim of this profession… The second reason for which I advise against the aforesaid decision is because the cut has less measure than the thrust. Therefore, having to strike purposefully with it, it would be necessary to bring the torso very forward to accompany it with the body.
In somma da tutto il passato discorso si raccoglie, che il Taglio non si deve seguire di Prima intentione, che è l’istesso dire, che di risposta. E ciò per due ragioni: la prima, perche è Regola universale della Scherma, che tutte le attioni di essa; per far, che siano perfette, bisogna farle improvise, acciò la velocità del moto re renda invisibile all’occhio del nemico, che non possa pararle; se dunque il Taglio, è ancora numerato trà quelle, & a niuna è inferiore di perfettione, e bontà, quando è operato con regola, deve essere ancora appoggiato sù quella Massima universale, & infallibile di cotcsta Professione… La Seconda ragione, per la quale io consiglio il predetto partito, è, perche il Taglio hà minor misura della Stoccata, e perciò, per dover colpire con esso di proposta, sarebbe necessario di portare avanti assai la vita, e di accompagnarlo co’l corpo. [17]
Mondschein’s chart of weapon & blade specs in his translation of Agrippa parallels other studies on the changing nature of rapier blades over time. [18] There are always exceptions, which as I stated before we must be cautious with, but which are still important. Later period rapiers, generally, sport blades less ideal for cutting than they do thrusting. A week ago today (12 Oct. 2023) Matt Easton shared a beautiful 17th century rapier on his Youtube channel. This is a prime example of late period thrusting blades—its profile will not hold a decent edge. It was not meant to. [19] While many later period blades clearly were meant only for thrusting, it is significant that even when wider blades were in use focus was still more thrust than cut-centric.
An Argument for Looking Across Texts
One of the advantages we enjoy is access to so many period treatises. Hundreds reside on sites like Google Books or archive.org, and more and more are translated and published all the time (though not all are equal in execution). Reading the sources can be difficult, even frustrating, but it is important if we are serious about the “historical” aspect of what we study. Anyone teaching historical fencing should be doing this work. They risk leading students astray if they don’t.
Another plus to reading the texts, and to reading more than one, is that our understanding deepens. As the set of examples demonstrates here, despite the inclusion of the cut and the uses to which it might be put, the rapier was what we say it was, primarily a thrusting weapon. If we are not using this weapon as intended, and worse, if we’re teaching trusting folks to use the rapier improperly, then we’re not teaching historical fencing. Least we are not teaching it well. Instructors owe it to their students to do the hard work and represent what the treatises impart to the best of their ability.
As for the cut in rapier, yes, it existed, but as these examples reveal the cut was, normally, secondary to the thrust. If in one’s bouts there are more cuts than thrusts, it might be worth pausing to examine that. Textual support for it is thin, and as historical fencing—supposedly—looks to the extant works on the subject, that might be cause for concern.
NOTES:
[1] Among the many karmic burdens it seems my lot to carry (and inflict on others on this page) is the perennial issue of failure to appreciate that there’s a difference between making a touch and making a touch without being hit. I have no idea why this is such a tough point, but there it is.
[2] See especially the useful comparison chart in Ken Mondschein’s Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, New York, NY; Italica Press, 2009, 120-127.
[3] I had the pleasure to handle a period 1796 light cavalry sabre a few years back. What struck me immediately, so used to modern trainers and clubs like the Ames 1865 sabre, was how flimsy the blade felt. It was wide—an important fact—but thin by modern standards. It was also far more flexible than I had anticipated. It was easy to appreciate just how nasty one of these would be to face or be struck by. NB: our trainers today are made to last, and, with the expectation of far more edge-to-edge contact than most used in period. A “thin” 1796 would not hold up well to modern bouting, but used against the woolen jackets and leather shakos of retreating infantry, they no doubt did just fine.
[4] Mondschein, Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, 17; p. 26 of 158 in the pdf from archive.org, Agrippa, Trattato di scientia d’arme: con vn dialogo di filosofia, 1553, Prima Parte, Ch. 4.
[5] Mondschein, Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, 44; p. 62 of 158 in the pdf from archive.org, Agrippa, Trattato di scientia d’arme: con vn dialogo di filosofia, 1553, Prima Parte, Ch. 20.
[6-8] Tom Leoni, Venetian Rapier, The School, or Salle, Nicoletto Giganti’s 1606 Rapier Fencing Curriculum, Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2010, p. 5; pl. 12 on p. 19; and pl. 14 on p. 21.
[9] Leoni, Venetian Rapier, plates 25 and 26 on pages 36 and 37 respectively.
[10] Tom Leoni, Ridolfo Capoferro’s The Art and Practice of Fencing, Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2011, 18; in the pdf. available via Google Books, Ridolfo Capo Ferro, Gran Simulacro dell’Arte e dell’Uso della Scherma, 1610, 23. Capo Ferro remarks, in the next section, 117, that the cut is useful from the saddle.
[11] Tom Leoni, Ridolfo Capoferro’s The Art and Practice of Fencing, 86; Capo Ferro, Gran Simulacro dell’Arte, 126.
[13] See Leoni’s Alfieri, Part 1, Ch. 5; or p. 92-93 in the pdf. For his definition of stoccata, see Leoni, Venetian Rapier, 57.
[14] Ibid.
[15] Francesco Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019, 181; this passage may be found in Part I, Book II, Ch. XXII, p. 121ff in the pdf.
[16] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, 185; this passage may be found in Part I, Book II, Ch. XXII, p. 126ff in the pdf.
[17] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, 186-187; 127 in the pdf.
[18] See A.V.B. Norman, The Rapier and the Smalls-Sword 1460-1820, Reprint, Ken Trotman Publishing, 2019,19ff; Ewart Oakeshott, European Weapons and Armour: From the Renaissance to the Industrial Revolution, Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press, 2000, 136ff; see also Eric Valentine, Rapiers, Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1968.
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