hema research – Page 4 – Capitale Escrime Historical Fencing

An Ugly Truth about “HEMA”

Many in the “HEMA” community dislike academics. Actively, vehemently, dislike them. Unfortunate as that is, it gets worse: they tend to look to people who have somehow convinced the community that they have the training and background to expound upon historical sources when in fact they don’t possess that expertise. It would seem logical, given the nature of investigating past fight systems, that one might lean on subject experts, of whatever type, who might best help one do that, but for some complicated reasons that’s not the case. Many of these fencers are quicker to dismiss trained scholars than question those claiming the same expertise. While they wouldn’t take their cars to bakers for a tune-up, or visit a plumber when they need open heart surgery, somehow it’s perfectly okay to dismiss historians when it comes to history.

Nothing one says, does, writes, makes video of, etc. is going to sway most of those who dislike academics. Formed as it is by both prevailing culture and personal experience, the hatred runs too deep.

The purpose of this post is not to persuade—a recent, local disagreement with people I both respect and love has made the reality of the uselessness in trying to convince anyone that we should be on the lookout for charlatans (and pay better attention to real scholars) all too clear. Beyond any personal hurt this caused me, which is fleeting and with time and reflection easy to put in perspective, I thought that on the off chance that anyone reads this that maybe, just maybe I might be able to disabuse one or two people of some of the misconceptions they have about academic training, academics, and why some of us, me for example, so often play Chicken Little when it comes to those who spread poor information.

Academia is a Meat-Grinder

Francisco de Goya, “Saturno devorando a su hijo,” (1819-1823)

The picture of academia as a mix of Hogwarts and ca. 1920s Cambridge is persistent, but inaccurate. Academia is more Oliver Twist meets Mad Max—it’s a hard living with low pay, violent competition, and few rewards. It’s become a business first and foremost, and in good American fashion that means championing the bottom line, not the product or those who make it. Much as wider society is wary of academics, no one perhaps cares less about academics than other academics. To put it bluntly, most any grad program has more narcissists and similarly self-worth-compromised folk, that ego is everywhere a problem. Dogs fight hardest when there are so few scraps that fall from a table.

The academic world eats its own young. Before the 1990s, when there were fewer people obtaining advanced degrees (MAs, MPHILs, PhDs), and jobs were more plentiful, there was less competition for work. With the glut of PhDs in the late 1990s, early 2000s, there were suddenly more people vying for the same jobs, and with so few rewards attending these jobs (academics are not paid much, do not get stock options, and have piss-poor benefits) competition was fierce between perspective hires. To name one example, I applied for a part-time position at a college in rural New York in 2002 that, so the thin letter told me, had 500 PhDs apply for it. [1] For every PhD hired that feels lucky, there are more who see the choice of themselves over their colleagues as some manner of divine right. Clearly, so they believe, they were just better, others less than worthy. If one has had the misfortune to spend a few minutes with any graduate of a “name school,” a new vegan, or a crossfit cultist then this will seem familiar.

Most schools took and continue to take advantage of the situation. A friend of mine from graduate school, now teaching at a major university, told me that her department set out to hire a lower division workhorse—the job was intended to put all the courses they didn’t want to teach on the new hire, and, this same new hire, while full-time, would not receive benefits, have any chance for promotion, or any hope of tenure. My friend’s question to them about the ethics of this, her concern over the complete lack of sympathy, was all shrugged off; they had theirs, right? They filled the position. People who want to teach are that desperate, and despite the abuse, are told sotto voce that maybe, juuuust maybe things will work out for them. It never does.

The cycle is one where the carrot of full-time employ is held out, but never awarded. Best of all for the schools, if one quits in frustration they are immediately replaced. There are that many people willing to knife a nun or toddler to get a job. Why? Because they were trained to teach, and in a society where teachers are held in low esteem, the options outside of teaching are bleak. Add school debt to this, something they will never be able to pay back without full-time work, and their plight is all the more desperate.

My point in sharing this is that these days most academics are more likely serving you coffee or pumping your gas than they are teaching, never mind engaging in research. It takes funding and department support to conduct research. Worse still, with the advent of online serials, most journals—where the most cutting-edge scholarship resides—are behind paywalls that small schools can’t afford. This creates, for those poor bastards teaching at community colleges, another level of inequality with their better-positioned peers. If one is an adjunct or part-time hire on contract, it’s even worse: one is so expendable that zero funding is available for improving one’s position. [2]

The reality may not change one’s views of academia or academics, but I thought it worth the time to explain that it’s not a rosy world where people feel smart and important all the time, and consider all others as beneath them. No. Most academics these days question the decision to take on such a poor career and the debt that so often comes with it; most are anxious because they may not have a job next term or be able to pay rent; and, whatever achievement earning an advanced degree might be, with very few exceptions there’s not much in place to make one feel like celebrating it. That is especially true when that PhD is the albatross around one’s neck trying to find work outside academia. As I’ve often said, in popular culture, academics are either clowns or villains, not heroes.

Why do People Hate Academics?

Some are, to put it Bluntly, Dicks

First and foremost, thanks to so few rewards and so little respect, there are, alas, many academics who lord their training over those who don’t have it. There are several notorious examples active in HEMA and they have not only hurt themselves, but the rest of us with similar training. Bitterness, frustration, and the sense of injustice at having worked so hard for something makes some academics into annoying snobs. Others, so cowed by experience, so accustomed to scraping by, barely if ever acknowledge their training, especially if they have experienced prejudice because of it. [3]

Gilderoy Lockhart as portrayed by Kenneth Branagh

Arrogance is ugly and it’s small wonder that the HEMA community dislikes these people, and by extension, anyone like them. While I understand the arrogance behind the sort who insist that people use their academic titles (a defense mechanism), I don’t like it and resent what it does to the rest of us. Nothing quite like suffering for another person’s sins. There is a time and place to use those titles, and generally, it’s not in amateur pursuits like historical fencing.

In the past week I’ve been made aware that I come off like the very academics none of us find pleasant. Worse, not only have my own meager efforts to make things better gone unnoticed—the advice I’ve provided for reading mss on this website for example—but also that I’m an asshole for refusing to let academic posers off the hook. Sharing concern about this, pointing it out, doesn’t read to people like a warning or an attempt to caution them and steer them to better resources, but as rants. It comes off as bitter attacks on respected “contributors.” They see only the volume of the message, not the message itself, or maybe, they do see the message and either don’t get it or don’t care. The result is the same. People aping experts have more clout than actual experts, and any of the latter calling them out are the real problem.

People don’t really Understand what it is Academics Do

In fairness to most people, HEMA being no exception, most people lack the perspective to evaluate any difference between real scholars and a person playing at being one. Unless one has been in that mix or close to it, it all appears to be the same. Real scholars look at sources, but people playing scholar do too. So, they’re the same.

TV, movies, and popular fiction’s take on history has not helped this–at least one generation of people has grown up seeing the ancient aliens nutters treated with the same dignity as actual scientists, and if anything, because it gets ratings these shows shit on actual researchers and champion the loons who attract an audience. If one’s exposure to history, as such, has largely been pseudo history, then it’s little surprising that the difference between proper history and entertainment is indistinct. On a certain level, many people who enjoy shows about ancient aliens etc. know the hosts are nuts, but given that these are the “experts” they see, it’s hard not to conclude that this poisons opinion against actual experts too.

One of the worst results from these shows is that they impart poor reasoning and half-baked methodology. It boggles my mind that there are people who think that archaeologists are hiding evidence of giants, ufos, or Atlantis. The truth is, if there were evidence of giants or ufos scholars would be racing to share the news and murder any other scholar who so much as suggested a threat that they might steal their thunder. Such a sensational find would equal funding, a tenured chair, and more fame than most could ever imagine.

There’s Room for Both Amateurs and Academics

Despite the number of times I’ve stated this, that we need many different points of view, types of expertise, and a healthy mix of amateurs and academics, the recent attack I’ve made on charlatans obscures it.

To be clear: I do not have a problem with amateurs. When it comes to most things we’re all amateurs. What I have a problem with is first, people claiming expertise who don’t have it and who thus mislead people, and second, the general bias against academic expertise of any kind.

One of the things we were taught in graduate school is responsibility for our work. It is vital we do our best, to be as honest, transparent, and as evidence-based as possible. To own the truth, not every historian follows this, and in fact, some have actively falsified, mislead, or misrepresented ideas or people in their work. Consider only the monster that alleged, falsely, that vaccinations are linked to autism or the halfwits who maintain fluorinated water will poison the world. Again, I speak from experience about this—on a minor level, a visiting prof stole my dissertation title for their book, and on a more serious level, a PhD student I never met not only misrepresented the purpose of my own dissertation, but also attacked me personally in her own thesis. [4] Like I said, there are no doubt some serious stinkers in academia. I’ve met way more than I’d like.

As a final clarification: my purpose on this site has been the same as with the books I’ve published to date and the hundreds of pieces I wrote for an academic database—to share information more widely and to do my best to do so fairly and accurately. Monographs, while key for landing an academic job, are not of interest to me–that’s why I never wrote one. The four people who study the same thing I did already know all that and don’t need another tired dust-collector on the library shelves. If the so-called Ivory Tower is to have any meaning, any use at all, then the work it does must be shared outside the tower and as widely as possible. All the research in the humanities, at least, is pointless otherwise.

To those I offended with the vehement complaint I made about posers in HEMA: my motivation was duty, not some personal beef. If the language was more pointed, it’s because of frustration and disbelief that no one else seems to care about the ramifications of propping up people who mislead others. My concern with doing it right is professional responsibility, not sour grapes. I have no grapes, and don’t want them. I not only do not want the notoriety, but I’m more than happy to share the job. I just want it done right. In fact, I’m happier if other people deliver these papers as I’m naturally introverted and have to work exceptionally hard to address groups (never mind the recovery afterward). [5]

Just. Do. It. Right. And, if one isn’t trained to conduct research, then maybe consider collaborating with one of the myriad un- or under-employed academics out there. Most would be happy for the work even though it doesn’t pay—it might suggest that their hard-earned skills are worth something after all.

NOTES:

[1] There is ample literature about this for those interested, and, not all of it behind paywalls. See for example Kevin Carey, “The Bleak Job Landscape of Adjunctopia for PhDs,” The New York Times, 5 March 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/05/upshot/academic-job-crisis-phd.html, accessed 6 Sept. 2020; Stephen Werner, “Reflections of a College Adjunct after 31 Years,” Inside Higher Ed, 1 March 2023, https://www.insidehighered.com/opinion/career-advice/2023/03/01/plight-adjuncts-reflects-academes-dysfunction-opinion, accessed 6 Sept. 2023.

[2] A friend from graduate school, one who got a job, was in my town for a conference and invited me to go. More than once I was asked, as one is, for a business card, and enjoyed the awkwardness of having to explain why I didn’t have any. Embarrassing as that was, it beat out the experience of a friend of mine who was an adjunct professor at one of the CalPoly schools who was told he, as an adjunct, had to pay for the free coffee.

[3] As a rule, I don’t talk about my training, not unless someone else brings it up or it’s actually germane in a conversation. Having that degree has been more often a liability than a plus. It’s not that I don’t value the training, I do, but I am suspicious of anyone who manages to complete graduate school and has a big head.

Working toward an advanced degree is an extremely humbling experience, least it should be, but naturally a lot of people come out of those programs thinking they are Einstein. Mixing with people smarter than we are, and spending a decade on the smallest fraction of the smallest fraction of all we know (never mind all we don’t) should serve to remind each of us that we’re tiny, insignificant animals and can never know enough. Ego, however, begets ego, and in a world as cut-throat as academia, the Peter Principle is alive and well.

[4] The person in question was a student at Queens University Belfast who dissertated in 2013. Though my dissertation has next to nothing to do with her own study, which concerned the dating of a collection of saints’ lives, my work was one of the only ones at that time on the subject of a particular Irish saint within that collection, and thus was worth a footnote (though nothing more). The points I made about the dating of this group of saints’ lives were minor and present in my own work because there was controversy over the dating at the time (2002) and not to address it would have been poor work. The author of the 2013 dissertation cherry-picked from my dissertation and misrepresented not only the point of my work, but also individual arguments I made. Worse still, she included ad hominems about my intelligence, ability, and suitability as a scholar.

I am not sure how her dissertation committee allowed such a breach of propriety and such egregious unprofessional behavior, but they did. Celtic Studies is a small field; most of us, at least when I was active, knew of one another if we hadn’t actually met, and this behavior was atypical. Mention of my Celtic prof in her diss, and her comments about his work, leads me to wonder if maybe she or her committee had issues with him, and if perhaps her attack on me, a virtually unknown, minor scholar not even active in the field, was actually an attack on him. He’s well-known, respected, and an absolute delight to be around, so it seems doubtful, but one never knows. Academics are pretty rabid sometimes.

[5] I acknowledge the irony of being extremely introverted and training as a teacher. In part, I was drawn to teaching as a way to combat my reserve. For me, it has always been the material, the subject, that interested me, not my role in it. A lucky thing, as it turns out, as my career path… as such… has been, well, “non-traditional.” In class, and even now teaching fencing, my focus is on the subject and sharing it, not my experience of it or how I come across. Apparently I need to worry more about that.

Old Wine in New Bottles: Fencing Theory and Interpretation

passing attack from _The Art of Fencing_ 1730

The much-maligned maestro, Nick Evangelista, turned a phrase that I have long used, “the logic of the sharp point.” [1] For anyone interested in fencing as more than an elaborate game of tag in unfortunate polyester uniforms, the logic of the sharp point should guide all they do. In short, this logic boils down to one idea:

If attacked, defend

When we don’t envision that point as sharp, we make poor choices—most doubles and the obsession with the after-blow stem from misunderstanding or misapplication of this logic. Why is it that in historical fencing, supposedly keen for fostering “realism,” we see such a gap between theory and practice? In short, the divergence stems from failure to learn and apply the most basic tenets of fencing theory. The reason for that is simple: too many historical fencers refuse to examine what modern fencing has to teach them.

This is a topic I’ve spent a lot of time on, but when a problem persists, we keep at it or quit. One fact I must accept, however, is that no matter how much time I or anyone spend on this, no matter how much evidence or analysis we throw at things, it won’t matter to most people in “HEMA.” There is daily proof of this, but there is also precedent: similar issues plagued the Olympic fencing world in the 1990s and early 2000s and then as now most people didn’t care. That doesn’t make them right. Their discomfort with a truth in no way changes the fact of that truth. I will argue until I’m worm-food that one should extend on a thrust, that the flat of the sabre shouldn’t score, and that off-target is, ultimately, illogical.

In like manner, not to avail oneself of modern fencing theory is to hobble our efforts at understanding fencing of the past. Modern theory was not created in a vacuum—it is the product of quite literally centuries of work. As always, one must distinguish between theory and how that theory is applied or misapplied. They are separate things.

For a quick example, applying right of way (ROW) to sabre, in theory, is sensible. ROW, in its way, attempts to enforce the logic of the sharp point, but being a game, a sport, this rule is less doctrinaire than it is for historical fencers. Historical fencers balk that ROW allows consideration of off target, and that one may win the point but still be hit. However, despite those aspects, despite the tyranny of electric scoring, the rule states that an attack should be dealt with, not just reacted to via counterattack out of time. One should defend if attacked—that is basic logic, the point, really, of fencing, defense. Thus, the ruling idea is sound, but how that rule is abused and interpreted is a mess.

Case Study: Passing Attacks

In one of the most recent and unfortunate fracases on social media, over a specific type of attack [see the post 13 August 2023, “Shadows in Caves,” https://saladellatrespade.com/2023/08/13/shadows-in-caves/], we have another example of the perils of interpretation. As I stated in an earlier post, part of it vested interest in maintaining a perceived status within the community, part of the problem was vocabulary, and partly it was a failure to understand how the sources and modern theory intersect. I’m fed to the teeth criticizing the all-consuming horror that ego plays in all this, so this post will instead focus on terms and misapplication of theory.

One mistake that people are making is equating a modern version of a species of attack for one of the same class from the past. It might help to illustrate how the terms relate. “Passing attacks” comprise a category of attacks where the rear foot passes the lead foot. Just how one does this changes. The terms and description vary as well. For two examples, we have the lunge made on the pass in de la Touche (1670), his “thrust of the pass” (l’estocade de passe), his “the finished pass” (la passe finie), and the modern flèche. [2]

de la Touche, 1670; the fencer on the right is making a thrust of the pass

No one in de la Touche’s time called any passing attack I’m aware of a “flèche.” Those quick to decry the use of a “flèche” in a recent Canadian tournament cite the use of a passing attack as modern and anachronistic, and thus out of keeping with period practice. It’s important to break down the attack, and criticism, to see if this criticism holds.

I’ve selected de la Touche in part because detractors have cited him for proof, but also because de la Touche did a fantastic job of explaining many aspects of technique. He was not the only one to include thrusts of the pass, but he is a good example. [3] The section on his thrust of the pass is long, thorough, and informative. In speaking of thrusts generally, de la Touche reminds us that one should be careful to aim for the most uncovered section of target, and, that one must thrust with conviction, that one should let oneself “go and extend as much as you can, so that the action has more force and swiftness of reach.” [4] I note this because swiftness, speed, is a critical consideration, one detractors downplay.

The master observes that one’s reach is longer with the thrust of the pass, and thus that the measure is larger so it requires more time to make. This is a crucial point. If one can hit with a thrust of the firm foot, then one shouldn’t use the thrust of the pass, unless one was initially aiming for the arm and decides to go for the body. It is particularly useful if the opponent is breaking measure (retreating) and if one wishes to surprise the adversary. Most importantly, one must accustom oneself to “execute the thrust of the pass with great swiftness, in order to compensate for the length of the action by the promptness of the execution.” [5]

Important to note, and a point in favor of the critics, de la Touche’s thrust of the pass assumes that the lead foot does not move. One advances the weapon, arm, body, and rear foot, but the front foot remains in place. [98] However, in the next section, De la Passe finie, “Of the Finished Pass,” de la Touche remarks that

The finished pass is an action by which, commanding the weak of the enemy’s sword with the forte of one’s own, one advances the foot which is behind the other in order to take the enemy in the body or to seize the sword to strike or snatch it.

La Passe finie es une action, par laquelle en dominant le foible de l’Espee de l’ennemy du fort de la vostre, on avance le pied qui se trouve derriere devant l’autre, a dessin deprendre l’ennemy au corps, ou de luy faisir l’Espee pour le frapper, ou pour luy arracher. [6]

De la Touche discusses this action, of moving the rear foot past the front, within the context of weapon-seizures. Such seizures are, as he observes, incredibly dangerous and chancy, especially if attempted when attacking (he is less uncomfortable with such seizures when defending). [7] One question arising from this is whether or not the master recommended this passing step only for weapon seizures. In answering this question one must interpret since de la Touche is not specific. How best to do that?

First, we must examine the action in the context in which the master shares it. It makes sense to include this passing step in a section relating to seizing the weapon as the distance one must travel is, arguably, longer than it is when lunging or lunging on the pass. Of note, this step is more connected to attempting a seizure when attacking than defending, as ostensibly the opponent is either standing firm-footed or breaking measure to defend.

Second, we must compare the advice in this passage with the rest of his work, with the general timbre of his approach. This is, granted, where we enter the world of conjecture. Thus, it is all the more important to work from the text, not just one passage or section. We must apply logic to any such comparison; it is, really, the only way to avoid the more obvious pitfalls, such as selecting only what supports our point of view or cherry-picking.

Whenever evidence works against us, we must deal with it honestly. In this case, the thrust of the pass itself does not appear to include moving the front foot from its place. De la Touche makes this clear. Those unhappy with the attack my friend and colleague made at An Cruinneachadh this past month are not incorrect about that. [8] However, I believe they are on far less firm ground if they suggest that the finished pass, that is a pass where both feet move, is only advisable when attempting a weapon seizure. Yes, that is the section in which it appears, but on its own that doesn’t make for a strong case. De la Touche covers the lunge in one section too, but one assumes that he wants one to use it whenever applicable.

Herein lies the crux of the problem—applicability. What follows is my take, my interpretation of de la Touche, and I will be the first to admit it is more spirit than letter of the law. I have reasons for that—we do our best to conform to what a text says, but we must remember the purpose of a source. De la Touche was concerned first and foremost with effective fencing. The goal, quite literally, was to strike and hopefully not be struck as one did so, because failure meant injury or death. If that was the goal, then slavish attention to any action makes little sense. Put another way, if one attempts a thrust of the pass, but the opponent retreats slightly more, one can either break off the attack, or, continue it (assuming the same elements of surprise and safety) by moving that immobile front foot. Fencers make different choices depending on the situation; technique, ultimately, backs up tactics, not the other way around. The attacker is at risk regardless—should they continue an already long attack, they increase the chance of failure, but should they recover needlessly just to follow the letter of the law they may create an opportunity for the adversary to attack in their turn.

In my reading, what Jay used in that match follows the logic of the finished pass and the thrust of the pass. Both fencers were working measure, but Jay launched his attack (about :07/:08 seconds in the video on fb) as his opponent (the chap in green) was in negative balance, as he was just about to initiate an action. Jay threw his arm and body forward, a la the thrust of the pass, but then crossed his feet a la finished pass in order to reach his now retreating opponent. Nothing in this action is out of keeping with what we read in de la Touche.

In fact, Jay used the proper speed to execute this attack successfully, an aspect de la Touche was quick to point out. Judging by both video of their fencing and from what I have observed on my own in person, many of Jay’s detractors do not employ speed in their own fencing, and one fears that they may not realize its importance. No attack made from just out of distance will succeed without it.

But his Fleche!

Now, what is the modern, well, 20^th century flèche? It depends upon how one defines it. Generally, in French fencing, the fleche is a “running attack,” but in this can be further explained as Gaugler put it, as “a running attack executed following a loss of balance by an exaggerated forward displacement of the center of gravity.” [9] Maitre Robert Handleman provides a fuller description:

Flèche: an accelerating offensive footwork progression that may start from on guard with a rapid extension of the arm and back leg which causes the body to lean forward and become unbalanced. The front leg then releases like a coiled spring causing the fencer to leap or run forward. The rear leg comes forward to land first, in a running-like movement; the hit should arrive as the legs cross or before. The flèche is used in foil and epee and may be delivered at any distance but is most effective as a surprise in shorter or medium distance. Another variation includes bringing the front foot towards the rear to shift the balance forward and then a rapid extension of the arm in the attack and a forward drive off the front leg. [10]

Handleman’s work was published in 2014, the flèche outlawed for sabre in 1994, but older works discuss the use of the attack in all three weapons. The flèche is still legal in modern foil and epee competitions.

So, did Jay flèche? Yes and no. Yes, he made a running attack, and going by just one definition, Gaugler’s above, we can call it a flèche. However, nothing in that action was out of keeping with what de la Touche, among others, described in their coverage of passing attacks. So where does that leave us?

Old Bottles, New Wine

Often in historical examinations we employ the simple tools of comparison and contrast. Examining patterns of what is similar, what different, we can unpack a source and see relationships, connections, and with further analysis, reach conclusions about what we are studying. In some cases, one type of comparison may reveal more to us. As a related example, from the study of myth, Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces does a great job of finding cross-cultural similarities in what he called the “monomyth,” but his study is only so useful because he did not, and did not intend, to examine the differences in how this motif was or is used. A hero’s motivations, for example, may be vastly different even if the narrative construct is similar; those differences will be far more revealing about cultural values than similarities.

In contrast, the situation here is one where similarities should help make sense of the sources, but which do not thanks to bias. Prejudice against the “new wine” of modern fencing, an outgrowth of the reactionary period in which modern historical fencing was born, has persisted and continues to affect how those suffering this bias view the “old bottles” that are period sources. The flèche as they see it is an artifact of modern, 20^th century fencing, not that particular century’s version of an old and time-worn attack. Why? Because in their view nothing modern is legitimate.

In fairness to his critics, if one places a photo from mid-century where a fencer is nearly horizontal in the air as they flèche, and then a plate from de la Touche side by side, then the differences are obvious. It’s clear these are not exactly the same, but they’re not the same in execution, and it should be easy to see why: the contexts are different.

This has been obvious to other scholars of fencing. Morton’s A-Z of Fencing contains a lengthy entry on the flèche as well as one for the pass which, so Morton states, was an older method of movement, and, one in which the lead foot might, if necessary, move as well. [11] As a last example, Nick Evangelista, in defining the flèche, echoes the same cautions as de la Touche, reminds the reader it is best used sparingly and as a surprise, and most importantly, that “the pass on avant of the eighteenth century is considered the forerunner of the flèche as it is practiced in modern times.” [12] These writers see continuity as well as change, versus change alone, and with good reason. No aspect of modern theory was created ex nihil—all of it is built on precedent.

De la Touche on more than one occasion is at pains to warn the reader against actions that will get them hurt, because in 1670 people were using swords and intended harm with them. No one of sound mind is fencing in that context today—realistic as we may wish to be, we do this for fun, not because our lives may depend on it; we fence with friends, not people keen to kill us; we use safer trainers and wear safety equipment, not a simple shirt or the lack of one. In contrast, fencers using the flèche in Olympic fencing, and especially in sabre in the late 1990s, not only had no fear since they were going for points, but especially in the case of the latter could stretch the action to ridiculous lengths to game the system. Indeed, so abused was the flèche that they outlawed crossing the legs in sabre.

Wine is Wine, Old Bottle or New

In the sitcom “Schitt’s Creek,” one of the main characters, David Rose, explains his sexual outlook to Stevie, a woman who works at the hotel where he is staying, and with whom he had hooked up:

Stevie Budd : So, just to be clear, um… I’m a red wine drinker.

David Rose : That’s fine.

Stevie Budd : Okay, cool. But, uh, I only drink red wine.

David Rose : Okay.

Stevie Budd : And up until last night, I was under the impression that you too only drank red wine. But I guess I was wrong?

David Rose : [nods knowingly] I see where you’re going with this. Um… I do drink red wine. But I also drink white wine.

Stevie Budd : Oh.

David Rose : And I’ve been known to sample the occasional rosé. And a couple summers back, I tried a merlot that used to be a chardonnay…

Stevie Budd : Uh… okay.

David Rose : …which got a bit complicated.

Stevie Budd : Yeah, so… you’re just really open to all wines.

David Rose : I like the wine and not the label. Does that make sense?

Stevie Budd : [smiles] Yes. That does. [13]

In addition to being a wonderful way to explain pansexuality, I see an analogy in re fencing theory. Fencing is, ultimately, fencing, and it is either effective or not. Contexts, purposes, equipment, and ethos all change, but should one lay out the better modern works on fencing side by side with those from the past the kinship becomes absolutely clear. Yes, there are differences, and in historical fencing in particular to ignore those differences makes what we do ridiculous. However, it’s double-edged—to ignore what modern theory provides any fencer, especially those attempting to interpret past sources for the Art, is to handicap one so terribly that the interpretation too easily becomes something other than what it should be, fencing. A prime example, which I’ve covered in other contexts, is the abject devotion to the images in the Bolognese corpus which produce versions of fencing more graceful than effective. [14] The desire to make “sidesword” different obscures the fact it was a cut and thrust weapon, and, that cut and thrust weapons existed before and after the 15^th century. If pose becomes more important than purpose, one has lost one’s way.

The logic of the criticism used against the passing attack Jay used at An Cruinneachadh is faulty. The operating assumption is that anything that looks like a flèche, or indeed may be one, is automatically illegitimate and anachronistic. That doesn’t follow. One can make a fair case that the passing attack Jay employed abided all the cautions and guidelines that masters like de la Touche put forth, and as such, should not be classified as some aberration. [15]

NOTES:

[1] Nick Evangelista, “When Classical Fencing Goes Bad,” The Evangelista School of Fencing, 20 April 2014, https://www.evangelistafencing.com/blog/2014/4/20/9swnz7n7n709uvg9cko2hkh5a1h3n5

[2] Philibert, Sieur de la Touche, Les vrais principes de l’Espée seule, 1670, 66 (plate just before page 65); see also Reinier van Noort and Antoine Coudre, The True Principles of the Single Sword, Glasgow, UK: Fallen Rook Publishing, 2016, 88ff.

[3] For other examples, among others, see de Liancour’s passes to the inside and outside p. 24ff in Le maître des armes (1696), Girard’s pass of quarte p. 71ff Traité des armes (1740), and Angelo’s pass in carte over the arm p. 62 The School of Fencing (1787). Of note, many works cover passing steps in connection with weapon-seizures.

[4] Van Noort and Coudre, The True Principles of the Single Sword, 90.

[5] Ibid., 100.

[6] de la Touche, Les vrais principes de l’Espée seule, 75; cf. Van Noort and Coudre, The True Principles of the Single Sword, 108. I translated this passage myself, so it differs from that of van Noort and Coudre.

[7] de la Touche, Les vrais principes de l’Espée seule, 75-78; cf. Van Noort and Coudre, The True Principles of the Single Sword, 108-109.

[8] For the bout in question, see https://www.facebook.com/groups/261251458841817/permalink/835017504798540/?ref=share&mibextid=NSMWBT

[9] Willam M. Gaugler, A Dictionary of Universally used Fencing Terminology, Bangore, ME: Laureate Press, 1997, 34.

[10] Rob Handelman and Connie Louie, Fencing Foil: A Practical Training Guide for Coaches, Parents and Young Athletes, San Francisco, CA: Pattinando Publishing, 2014, 444.

[11] E.D. Morton, Martini A-Z of Fencing, London, UK: Antler Books, 1990, 67; for the pass, see 132-133.

[12] Nick Evangelista, The Encyclopedia of the Sword, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1995. 250. Queen City Classical Fencing’s glossary, supplies

passe avant [Fr., “pass forward”]: a step in which, from the en garde position, the fencer places his rear foot in front of the lead foot and the latter is immediately replaced forward, returning the fencer to the en garde position. [https://queencityclassicalfencing.com/fencing-terms/#p]

Important to note, the terms for passing attacks varied. Hope, for example, referred to the “true-pass” and the “half-pass:”

According to the Rules, a True-Pass is a running Motion, which a Man makes bye his Adversary’s Right-Side, in the time he is performing his Thrust against him; whereas a Thrust is commonly delivered with a close and fixed Left-foot. ‘Tis true, both of them terminat in a Thrust; but there is this Difference, that in all Thrusts wherein the different Lessons terminat, the Left-Foot is generally kept fixed; whereas Passing is performed, as I said, but a running Motion, the Body stooping forewards and the Thrust delivered, just as a Man is passing bye his Adversary’s Right-Side.

[Sir William Hope, A New, Short, and Easy Method of Fencing, Edinburgh, 1707, 136-138]

[13] This quotation was obtained from IMDB, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3653932/characters/nm2391794

[14] 10 June: Lecture Transcript: “Prance or Pounce? Interpreting Images in Bolognese Treatises,” Northwest Armizare Weekly Online Meetup, https://saladellatrespade.com/instructors/research-media/

[15] Jay’s fencing is effective and he is doing well in competition, so it is possible that maybe that is the real issue: envy.

Jay, like me, like others, approaches past sources with the tools and theory that they bequeathed to modern fencing, and he is an effective fencer. Those aping the plates devoid of actual understanding are not doing as well, because their study is incomplete. When one is absolutely convinced that one’s point of view is correct, and especially when that stance is backed by those believed to wield authority (however true or untrue), then one is not only losing matches but forced to confront an even harder possibility: their training, however long, however passionate and dedicated, has been flawed. This is extremely painful and unpleasant, and my heart goes out to them. At the same time, it is something one can fix. Jay, in fact, can speak to this better than I can, as it happened to him. He didn’t quit, but put his disappointment and regret aside and started over with a better training regimen.

Leaning… into the Molinelli

from _Istruzioni per la sciabola di sciabola_ [_ (Instructions for Sabre Fencing_], by Arnoldo Ranzatto, first published in 1885, Venice; this is from the third edition, 1889.

Thanks to long-standing injuries and their maintenance I’ve not been teaching as much sabre than I have in the past, but I still have a few students grand-fathered in as well as one or two new people whom I’ve agreed to meet for Radaellian sabre. This summer I’ve had the pleasure to work with two adult fencers, both with experience, but new or newer to Radaelli’s method. As a firm believer that a teacher is (and should always remain) a student, I’ve found that no matter how many times I’ve taught the same, day-one material, that there’s always something new to learn, or, to appreciate in a way that I didn’t before. Students have a way of asking questions that help me refine answers, make them more succinct and intelligible, and that changes not only how I see the material, but also and importantly how I teach it.

The Scarto

In this post I’d like to focus on the scarto, a “shying away,” which was a key feature of Radaellian sabre, and, what sometimes proves a missing piece in modern reconstructions. In March of 2021 I added a post here entitled “Italian Sabre & ‘HEMA'” where I explored some of the reasons for the lack of popularity for this system. [1] One of the major criticisms leveled at the Radaellian method is the size of the cuts and the relative time it takes to make them. I’ve hear this from people in the community as well as from new students with some experience. It’s an important observation, and reveals to me that those of us teaching Radaellian sabre likely need to make the purpose of the scarto far more clear in our lessons.

What’s Up with this Leaning Stuff?

A natural question comes up in viewing the scarto–why should one do it? Everything we teach should have a solid reason for inclusion; it’s never satisfactory to say “because it’s in the treatises.” The why is critical. In origin, this shift of the trunk likely derives from fencing in the saddle. Giuseppe Radaelli, after all, was a cavalryman and his system was designed to revamp then current practice. Before Radaelli, the wrist was used as the axis of rotation for cuts, but in actual use some troopers found it ineffective in battle and thus Radaelli’s innovation, the elbow-driven cut. [2]

Christopher A. Holzman, who more than anyone else has opened up the Radaellian corpus to the English reading world, discusses briefly the connection between the scarto and mounted combat. His take on the scarto in The Art of the Dueling Sabre, which provides a translation of the 1876 edition of Del Frate’s manual–the first to codify Radaelli’s method–is corroborated by the evidence contained in Ferdinando Masiello’s 1891 Sabre Fencing on Horseback [3]. In short, from the saddle, both cuts and thrusts include a slight lean towards the target; in part this is explained by the height of one in the saddle, but it also helps ensure, for cuts, that enough of the weapon meets target to be effective.

Remember that when mounted one’s feet are in stirrups, one’s thighs grip the flanks of the horse, and one’s left-hand grips the reins (all troopers regardless of handedness were trained as right-handers)–all of these contact points affect movement of the upper body. Reach and angle are both affected–even in late cavalry practice we see troopers leaning forward if not to the side in stills from drill and maneuvers.

French Dragoons illustrating the lean in the saddle

Though I’m not a great fan of Patton’s sabre, his Sabre Exercise from 1914 is another excellent point of reference for the place of the lean or scarto:

Patton, Sabre Exercise, 1914

Moreover, and without meaning to upset animal-right’s activists, the lean we often see in period photographs and illustrations owes something to the fact that the horse’s head and breast offered some cover as one faced the enemy. Though most late period cavalry engagements did not assume one-on-one melees between troopers, the lean toward the enemy may have helped one void the enemy’s weapon as well as assist reach to target. In reverse, leaning back to parry introduced that much more distance to attempt to defend.

Unmounted cavalry sabre exercise in Italy, as in other places, included the use of the lean. [4] Even for exercise on foot, which is to say not standing as if mounted, we see this lean:

Compare the angle of the trunk here, in line with the rear leg, to that in Del Frate:

Del Frate, 1868: while rendered rather extended, as the red lines I’ve drawn indicate the trunk should be no farther than the angle of the rear leg.

What the Scarto Achieves

The historical precedent for the scarto is important to know, but for the vast majority of us fencing only on the ground vs. in the saddle, what good does it do us? Everything. The scarto, combined with proper management of measure, tempo, and judgment is what makes the system work against those traditions which rely more on quickly made direct cuts.

It’s the scarto which provides that additional bit of insurance when we attack or defend, and which when used properly discourages counter-attacks to the forward target. It should anyway. If you’re a Radaellian fencer and you’re experiencing stop-cuts or an arrest when you make your cuts, then add the scarto.

There is one caveat and a vital one for anyone mixing with non-Radaellians in “HEMA:” many if not most opponents will try to hit you anyway.

I forget which number of dead horse this is that I regularly beat, but many opponents will ignore the giant cut speeding toward them and select the ify counter-attack. They will argue that they hit you, and sure, they did, but they should not have: they should have opted to defend themselves first. Here as in most things we must artificially remove the mask and safety gear and imagine the weapons in our hands are sharp. NOTHING we do in historical fencing makes sense if we neglect this.

For example, imagine an opponent makes a cut to your head. You parry in 5th, then start the molinello from 5th to the inside cheek (assuming two right-handers). Made with the torso upright you might get the cut out without being hit with an incidental slice, but with the opposing steel there, and the tempo the elbow-generated cut takes, it’s possible for the opponent to draw the sabre back to guard and rake the arm as they do.

Now, add the scarto. When you take 5th, you add a little more distance with the slight lean back; this not only charges the blow a bit more, but importantly means that you start the cut from slightly farther away. The weapon always leads the way–it’s a universal–so… with the cut starting sooner, from juuuust out of distance, they have a choice: stop the giant cut or go for the counter.[5] One of these is sensible, one stupid. For it to work, however–and this is the important part–the opponent has to recognize the difference. Thanks to the fact that too many in HEMA are thinking more in terms of points than imagining sharps, one is likely to be hit a lot trying this out.

Do it anyway. We shouldn’t limit ourselves because our opponents are poorly-trained and approaching bouts as if slapping bells, however “martially,” with their cousins, Olympic sabreurs.

Incorporating the scarto will take some practice if you’re not already doing it, but it’s worth the effort. Start by employing the scarto in solo drills. [6] Next, use them in pair drills–a simple parry/riposte exercise is perfect for this. Once you’re comfortable, add it into all drills and into any bouting. With your fellow Radaellians, this will improve your appreciation for the system. Used against skilled opponents, the addition of the scarto will demonstrate why it is Radaelli who has been called the “father of modern sabre” and not someone else. [7] Lastly, remember against the average “HEMA” sabreur you cannot expect them to understand why despite their sense of victory they’re actually getting spanked, but you can take some comfort in knowing that you’re doing right by the system we study and more closely approaching what historcal fencing should be.

NOTES:

[1] Cf. https://saladellatrespade.com/2021/03/22/italian-sabre-hema/

[2] For the impact of Radaelli’s innovation, see William M. Gaugler, The History of Fencing: Foundations of Modern European Swordplay. Bangor, ME: Laureate Press, 1998, 166-167; see especially 194-205.

[3] Much of Chris Holzman’s work is available at Lulu Books, https://www.lulu.com/search?gclid=CjwKCAjwloynBhBbEiwAGY25dD4EsfGlo8I0X-ZcEcP7Pb5PF4NejSh4IpqJtYqE0iGWEChGQcQiRRoCBhMQAvD_BwE&page=1&q=christopher+a.+holzman&pageSize=10&adult_audience_rating=00, but his seminal The Art of the Dueling Sabre (2011) is of print. He has plans to revise and reissue it, but no word yet as to when.

[4] We see use of the lean in other systems–this image from Aldershot, for example, would suggest the influence of Masiello on the 1895 English Infantry Sabre Exercise. NB: Radaellian sabre was split into three expressions–mounted practice, drill as if mounted but on the ground, and, on foot, the latter intended for combat as well as the growing agonistic sphere. What does “unmounted cavalry drill look like?” Like this:

English cavalry recruits, unmounted drill, 1914

[5] Counterattacks are a risk against a certainty. In the sport, so long as one makes the touch before the light (i.e. as if “in tempo”), fine, but it doesn’t work that way when they’re sharp. Put another way, if something sharp and pointy is about to hit one the smartest thing to do is go on defense, to parry, not to think “oh yeah, I’m just gonna go for it and hit them first; should work fine, no problem.” No, it might not work out if one’s goal is not to be hit too. In teaching counterattacks, regardless of weapon, I generally advise students to counterattack only if they’re at least one tempo ahead of the opponent’s attack; it follows, then, that in most cases the opponent has made a tactical error. They might have started the attack from out of distance; they might have started the attack with a bent arm or foot/body before weapon; or maybe they’ve just failed to cover their arm on the way in; in these cases one should, distance, timing, and judgment allowing, have a chance to attempt the counterattack and cover with a parry/riposte should it land or fail. If it looks like one might not have time to cover, don’t try it. Just parry and riposte.

[6] For a great example see the gifs Sebastian Seager made for his site: http://radaellianscholar.blogspot.com/2017/10/

[7] See Gaugler, The History of Fencing, 194. See also, https://www.ars-dimicatoria.cz/en/italian-military-sabre/

Addendum, Shadows in Caves

It’s never my intention to be mean or divisive. To the best of my ability, I try to focus on the material and evaluate both arguments and support. The more directly and clearly one does that, the better, but directness, especially online, can read differently to people. It’s easy to take any criticism personally even when it’s not intended. [1]

I didn’t pull any punches in my last post, but no blow was aimed at people as people—my intent was to target interpretations, argumentation, and issues of authority either widely acknowledged as problematic, such as “HEMA” lacking any real oversight, or, concerned with questions about credentials that have long been under discussion. [2] It’s important.

As an instructor and historian I have a responsibility to my students and everyone else to be honest about my training, how I arrive at the interpretations I do or why I use those by someone else, and to be as transparent as I can. When I get things wrong (and I do), I owe it to all involved to own it, correct it, and give credit where credit is due.

Few things are harder than declaring, publicly, that one made a mistake, but it’s one of the most important things we can do. First, it’s honest—everyone screws up. Second, owning mistakes and trying to correct them argues for one’s credibility. Third, because our interpretations are shared, we owe it to those who use them to keep them in the know. My own experience with this has demonstrated to me that not everyone will appreciate it, but it’s the right thing to do regardless of reception. Thus, whenever someone offers us valid criticism, it’s on us to consider it and if necessary adjust our conclusions.

Working remotely in a tiny corner of the world, and rarely able to travel to events, conferences, or seminars (though I try), I know of, but do not know, most of the people engaged in the current debate within smallsword circles. I know them only via their work or participation in the community. Even if I did know them, I should not judge them as people (provided they’re not bigots or overly arrogant) but evaluate their work. I expect people to do the same with anything I might share of my work. That is how research works, well, how it’s supposed to work. [3]

All of this is to say that if you are hurt reading my critique, please remember I see you as a colleague in a difficult endeavor; that we, all of us, owe it to all using our work to do right by them and produce the best work we can. Good research is a collective pursuit—we rely on others for support, for correction, and for making our work better. In like vein, we also owe it to our students and one another to be honest, frank, and ready to back up any credentials we claim. The study of martial arts, any branch, relies on trust, and we establish that trust more in action than words.

Notes:

[1] Even in person it can be hard to face criticism, but it’s part of the job. Online communication is notorious for confusion; lacking facial cues, body language, etc., we have to work harder to be clear in what we write and be sensitive to how things might read.

[2] The burden of proof for one’s credentials is on the individual. Normally, it’s easy enough to prove should one question things—maestri, for example, are handed a diploma produced by the organization that granted it and that displays the signatures of those masters that evaluated the candidate. There shouldn’t be any mystery around it.

[3] Work in research long enough and you will see the best and worst in people when it comes to using or evaluating one’s work. For every instance of helpful, well-intended help, there are a legion of people who fail to read it completely, or worse, misconstrue and misrepresent our work. For example, one reviewer of a book I wrote failed to read the preface; had he done so he would have realized that his major criticism, that the book was less monograph than he expected, was targeted towards undergraduates. For a more serious example, a dissertation from 2014, and which mentioned my dissertation from 2002, not only resorted to insulting language, but also misrepresented my work (how her dissertation committee let that go is anyone’s guess—mine would have read me the riot act for such a breach of professionalism).

Shadows in Caves

One of the benefits of not having to suffer the tempests in teapots that boil over on social media is that I only hear of them second-hand. I’ve heard a lot in the past few days about an unfortunate debate on one of facebook’s smallsword pages concerned with a particular action. Controversies like this have a way of forcing people to show their colors, and this latest hullabaloo is no exception.

The lines, as I understand it, are drawn between those upset by the inclusion of a passing attack, a collection of enthusiasts including a number of English fencers, at least one sword-maker, and a few vocal students, largely American. Their opposition consists of an assortment of historical fencers who have argued for this attack based on the sources. If one is familiar with my posts here it will not be difficult to determine where I land in this debate (not that what I think will matter to many participants). However, as an instructor and historian I feel a duty to those I work with to say something.

False Equivalencies & the Fleche

The action in question is a rapid attack meant to surprise an opponent and one made by passing the back foot in front of the lead foot. To work, one chooses the right measure and tempo, and then applies the right speed and weapon angle to close the line. Whatever the name, these are the component features. It is, in truth, a dangerous action, especially if made poorly or at the wrong time or distance, but the fact that it shows up in so many works means it is worth study.

The criticism aimed at the passing-step proponents centers upon this action being too “sporty,” too “modern,” and since that first generation of classical and historical fencers arose in large part because of the excesses in the sport, anything remotely whiffing of the modern piste is immediately suspect. I know because I was there, and like these poor folks, once over-compensated and over-corrected. This was easy to do in the 1990s and early 2000s for several reasons. The complete lack of concern and disdain from fellow fencers about over-use of the fleche, of the flick in foil, of duck and cover, or any of the other aberrations was hard to understand and unpleasant to face. Second, and in ways that echo in the current debate, none of the evidence–and there was plenty–proving that these were departures from the point of fencing and ahistorical made the slightest dent in their resolve. On the one hand, older fencers unaffected by much of this failed to see the danger. On the other, many newer fencers, having made their reputations on these dubious actions were loath to condemn them; to do so would be to condemn themselves, to call into question their own position.

Ego drove much of this, and, ego drives the anti-passing step side now. Combined with misunderstanding of the problem the anti-passing step faction has taken the suggestion that a move like the fleche is viable as a personal affront. Ironically, they decry the action despite the evidence from the very sources they claim to use. Ego is the first barrier: an inflated sense of self and one’s importance tends to blind one to reason. The second barrier is mistaking issues with a particular action for the action itself. Memories of fleche after fleche in the late 1990s and all the daft measures the FIE took have made any attack like it, never mind the fleche itself, anathema.

Of note, the pro-fleche camp, for lack of a better term, has not argued that the passing attack in Vadi or L’Abat is exactly the same as the flying leap sabreurs so took advantage of in the 1990s. Contexts are different, the weapons different. This said, the idea of a rapid, surprise attack made by throwing the weapon forward and passing the rear leg past the lead one is present in our sources. Whether one chooses to use it or not is another question. Whether one makes the attack well is another matter. Whether a master advocated it or merely included it is an additional consideration. Some masters specified that they didn’t care for an action, or, that it was dangerous outside the salle, but often we don’t know where they stood on its effectiveness or safety for actual fighting. [1] There is ample precedent for fleche-like actions on the record, so to poo poo the use of an effective passing attack in modern historical competitions, which we do for fun, is about turf and ego, not the sources.

Why the one faction should stubbornly argue against the evidence of the sources should make one pause. For smallsword works alone, the inclusion of the passing-step attack is common. It should be little wonder as to why. Given the place of cross-steps forward and back in earlier works (de Liancour, 1686, is a good example), adding speed to the same method of advancing follows logically. The same attack, however, appears earlier in the sources, from Vadi to many rapier treatises. What separates historical fencing from other branches is, supposedly, reliance on the sources, so to ignore the basis for interpretation, particularly when we can trace this action over time and across masters, is odd. If the source tradition isn’t their basis for support, then what is?

The Problem of Authority

One of the bugbears within “HEMA” is a blind appeal to assumed authority. In this case, a number of early researchers and their fan-base appeal to the early success and acclaim these luminaries enjoyed in the belief that it’s as valid now as it was in the early 2000s. That is, sadly, not often the case. Research has not stopped since their time, yet many of these same people stick to outdated theories and flawed interpretations.[2] Their argument, thus, is not made from evidence and analysis, but from ego, from fear of losing the status they depend upon from their acolytes. They fear being eclipsed. The last has already happened as this latest fracas, one skirmish of many in the past twenty to thirty years, demonstrates.

Time-in is another supposed source of authority. It can lend one credibility, but depends on other factors. On its own time-in means absolutely nothing. If one has been in “HEMA” for thirty years and has not only been working from poor theories, but also continues to argue that they were correct despite the evidence, then time-in means very little. This happens a lot–I’ve met many people who have wasted years with charlatans or in glorified fight-clubs or working from once key interpretations that have been superseded.

Complicating the stagnation is an often surprising lack of understanding of fundamental actions and concepts. For example, a well-known fencer recently quoted de Bazancourt with respect to rushing in, which not only demonstrates a failure to understand the intended use of the action, but also serves to corroborate the fact they are basing their view on misuse of the action. Preparation is everything in fencing, and attacks like the passing step and even its much abused 1990s version (ideally…) relied on setting an opponent up for it. The sabreurs who flung themselves stupidly at “allez!” and who never varied the game are a different animal. In the footage I’ve seen from a recent Canadian event, the fencer employing the “fleche” used it wisely, and, as intended: as a surprise against an unprepared opponent. I am a fan of much of de Bazancourt’s wisdom, but the quotation supplied is misapplied. Used at the appropriate time and in the right setting, the passing step or fleche is no more dangerous than a lunge. Both put one at risk. Every form of attack potentially does.

Another issue plaguing “HEMA” is the echo-chamber effect. Adherents to this idea or that group focus increasingly only on what those within their section of the community teach, believe, and use. Their views become myopic, limited, and prone to precisely the ego-driven arguing we see in this current example, because for them the debate is less about sources than it is their reputations as “authorities.” They view the shadows cast on the wall by the tiny flame in their hands or in those of their heroes and take those shadows for reality. It seems real and legitimate to them because they refuse to consider any other well-made argument. In like vein, if any light is cast from someone they don’t know or who fails to pass the anemic view of authority they employ, they ignore it, or, call them heretics.

Proof is in the Teaching

Perhaps it is the Hollywood notion of 18th century manners, of high style, and the romance around the waning influence and power of European aristocracy, but many of the interpretations from the anti-passing-step camp are wooden, slow, and lacking in vigor. They present more like demonstrations or dance than a fight. It’s form over function. For all the formality and etiquette that people of the past attempted to apply to personal conflict, in the end it was a sword fight. The intent was bodily harm or semi-acceptable ritual murder, and no evidence we possess suggests that two people, potentially angry and emotional, fighting fear, and terrified of public opinion, were more likely to square off and fight as if dancing. All evidence is to the contrary. Surviving footage of late period duels is no exception, and many of those were first-blood affairs, not to the death. For all the blather about “realism” few in “HEMA” spend much time if any pondering what that means, or, what it should mean in our context. [3]

The flaccid yet florid approach these fighters take to fencing reveals too much concern for aping the elegant plates within the treatises rather than what those treatises were meant to help teach: fighting. I am not the only one cautioning fencers about over-reliance on images, but time and again many in the community gravitate to the images because they don’t understand the text. [4] While language and diction are often challenging, the deeper issue is that these same fencers lack sufficient understanding to read the text. The one place they might go for help, a solid Olympic or traditional fencing program, is anathema among them, and so, they do their best to adopt what they see in the illustrations and produce pretty bouts largely devoid of any intent.

In the footage of their bouts, in their instructional videos, and especially in their attempts to shout down opponents, the shallowness of their understanding and skill emerge vividly. The inability to fence beyond a snail’s pace, the poor use of measure, and the more choreographed timing are red flags. No one fought in slow motion. It’s hard not to conclude that this is one reason that the clubs and cliques against passing step attacks avoid bouting anyone outside their little world. Against fencers with legitimate training and armed with sufficient knowledge they come up short. Such defeats should suggest to these fencers that maybe there is more to learn or better ways to learn it. In fairness to the newer students among them, hearing from their clubs that these defeats don’t count because others are wrong or too dangerous etc. is easier to accept within their echo chamber, when the only voices they hear are all part of the same program. [5]

Make the Bold Move

It takes courage to accept new ideas, even when well-presented and argued, but it remains the right choice if one wishes to retain any respectability. Lacking any official organization to manage these things, we are left only with each faction’s arguments and how to evaluate them. The best approach is to evaluate the respective arguments in light of the evidence, and, against what the purpose of fencing used to be. The masters who wrote these works, many of them anyway, meant for their books to help teach students how to fight. Sure, some, especially later, were more concerned with salle play than with duels, but for those clearly self-defense oriented, like many mentioned in the debate over the passing attack, the goal was effectiveness first and foremost. There was ample attention to deportment and conducting oneself with grace in many works, but this was, outside a fencing hall, a secondary goal. No master stayed employed long if their students died or were maimed for life. [6]

Those quick to condemn historical fencers using the passing step attack should take their example from other members of the older guard, people like Paul Wagner, Stephen Hand, and Dave Rawlings, all of whom have continued to learn, adapt, and alter their thinking based on new and better information. Though well-known, they have remained humble and thus open to learning, and between these factors and being gracious opponents, they have stayed relevant. They have not been eclipsed.

When it comes to past fight systems, no one has a monopoly on the truth. Every interpretation must be tested and compared against the sources, and when new and better ideas make sense, when they follow from the sources, then they’re worth consideration however much that may disappoint one. At such times, hard as it is, once those shadows on the cave wall have been revealed for what they are, it’s time to do the hard thing and turn around. When one does, one sees better and grows, and often, one finds that those they have perceived as enemies turn out to be staunch allies.

Notes:

[1] De Liancour, for example, believed counter-attacks better suited for salle play than affairs on the ground (Le maitre d’armes/The Master of Arms, 1692, 13 in the pdf, 29; in Lynch’s translation, 36); Capt. John Godfrey, in his A Treatise upon the Useful Science of Defense, 1747, 12-13, expresses his dislike of the flanconade.

[2] A prime example is the demi-pointe lunge. See my papers related to this topic in the “Research” section found at the bottom of the Instructor page.

[3] I’ve spent a lot time on this in previous points, so here I’ll only add that while we strive to be historically accurate and as “realistic” as possible, the fact remains that we do this for fun, wear protective gear, and have no real need for this skillset in our own time and cultures.

[4] See my pieces on using and misusing images in historical fencing under “Research” in the Instructors section.

[5] Most fencing schools, most of the better martial arts programs, include working with and/or competing against those outside one’s own school. It’s critical for growth. It is never a good sign when instructors fear this or actively preach against it.

[6] Even in self-proclaimed self-defense works we see concern for deportment. In James Underwood, The Art of Fencing, Dublin, 1798, p. 7, he explains that he doesn’t like the off-hand arm forward because “I think the beauty of the figure is strangely disfigured by it, and that all fencers will allow that they cannot help being pleased with a symmetrical posture.”

Alex Spreier on Grappling & the False Dichotomy between “Ancient” and “Modern”

This might seem an odd inclusion, especially if you know me and my aversion to grappling (I have a weapon, why should I touch you? Hey, not everyone washes their kit… just saying…), but personal preference aside wrestling is a foundational martial art, one of the oldest, and as such worthy of attention even by those of us who would rather hit someone from a short distance. Alex is one of the people I go to for questions about wrestling, grappling, etc., and makes some excellent points in this short piece.

Without wishing to steal his thunder, much of what he says about wrestling here applies to fencing as well. Some students of Fiore dei Liberi’s armizare may gasp in horror, but the difference between the first master of longsword (largo) and a coupé is type of weapon, how it’s held, and the context in which it was used. It is, however, essentially the same action. This is why, as Alex notes (see his footnote 4), those with a solid grasp of fencing theory and movement, of technique and tactics, tend to do better than those without it in historical fencing and “HEMA” (issues with judging notwithstanding).

Grappling with Rule Sets

Paul Wagner & Dan, Four Antique Small Swords

My thanks to Sean Mueller, High Desert Armizare, Bend, Oregon, for this link. Paul and Dan share four excellent antique small swords and discuss their features.

Curricula, Completeness, & Choice

The Noviciate of a Macaroni. Ranelagh. 1772. Colonial Williamsburg Museum

One of the best things about fencing are the interesting people one meets along the way. Say what one will about “nerds” and niche interests, rarely are they boring, and in some cases it’s precisely their eccentricity that bridges the gap between niche-folk and those just other side the creative wall. For example, a few years ago a writer contacted me with questions about sabre for a project he had in hand. Over the course of our many conversations, we became friends. In a discussion this morning, he asked me for my take on the issue of true teachers versus the McDojo sort who just out to make a buck.

One point I made was that there is often, sadly, a gulf between what we can actually use in martial arts, should we need it, and what a school or teacher makes their focus. For example, in one ruleset for competitive Tae Kwon Do, one can kick at the head, but not punch. [1] If one is studying at a school adhering to this ruleset, they may be doing themselves a disservice if the goal is training to keep themselves and others safe. This is not to say that competitively focused schools are inherently bad, they can be fun and build one’s confidence, etc., but one should not mistake them for what they’re not, either.

As we continued to chat, I brought in a few examples from historical fencing, and this raised a related set of questions. Do we try to share all aspects of a particular treatise? Should we? What if an action is dangerous? What if it’s safe to do in our context, but would be dangerous were the blades real? My short answer is “it depends.” There are sometimes reasons to teach dangerous maneuvers, but any time one does considerations of safety must come first.

Not all Masters Agreed; Not all were Equal

One of the most “medieval” aspects of historical martial arts, and “HEMA” in particular, is an almost blind faith in written words of the past. Textual authority, given that it is 90% of our evidence, makes sense, but reason must still be applied. Modern doctors do not rely on ancient Greek medicine for guidance in obstetrics, and it would be both unethical and criminal if they did. [2] Not everything written in the past was good.

An Englishman and his Fencing Master, British Museum

It can be difficult to assess the worth of an old fight manual. Our distance in time, methods of conducting violence, notion of law, everything is different. This said, there are times when we get help from within the texts themselves. For example, in de Liancour’s Le maitre d’armes/The Master of Arms, 1692, he says of the counter attack that

C’est une chose si difficile à prendre que les Temps, l’Epée à la main, que je ne conseille personne de s’y trop hasarder. J’estime mieux une bonne parade, ou un bon battement sec & tiré droit le long de l’Epée ennemie, sans oster la sienne de devant soy…

Je m’étendrois beaucoup sur ce Chapitre, mais comme j’ay résolu de ne parler que des choses essentielles, je dirary seulement que c’est in jeu de Salle, où ces coups se pratiquent allez souvent, mais fort rarement l’Epée à la main.

It is such a difficult thing to take on the Times, sword in hand, that I do not recommend anyone to risk it too much. I consider a good parry better, or a good dry/sharp beat & thrust along the enemy’s sword without removing his from your own.

I would dwell long on this Chapter, but as I have resolved to speak only of essential things, I will only say that it is a Salle game, where these blows are often practiced, not often sword in hand. [13 in the pdf of 1692; Lynch, 36] [3]

Here is a master pointing out the inherent danger in choosing a counter-attack over a solid defense. It’s an important point, and one I am quick to mention when I cover counter-attacks, but I still teach it. For one, though we aspire towards realism, the fact is we do this for fun and no one is in danger of actual injury. Second, and more importantly, though I advise students not to select a counter-attack save under specific circumstances, they need to know how to recognize them and practice defeating counter-attacks when this action is used against themselves.

For another example, Capt. John Godfrey, in his A Treatise upon the Useful Science of Defense, 1747, rails against an action common to most small sword works, the flanconade:

That Thrust called the Flanconade, I pronounce an Anathema upon, as being easily proved to be the most lewd and vile Debaucher of the Art, the Dignity of which consists chiefly in its generous Allowance of a proportionable Chance to the weak man. The other Thrusts depend upon a timely Swiftness mostly: Though to say, that equal Knowledge with more Strength has not the Advantage, would be preposterous, as certainly the greater the Velocity is, the greater the giving Strength must be… [12ff]

Godfrey’s argument is that a weaker person will be less likely to pull off the flanconade than a strong person. He was correct. His pro-English and anti-French bias, given his background, are not surprising but likely informed his position as well. He published, after all, during the War of the Austrian Succession (1744-1748), where the two nations were in conflict over territory in North America (among other theaters). One example should suffice:

The Art we had from the French; no Flaconade was thought of for some Time; but upon finding us very apt Scholars, and being willing to be our distinguished Masters, they brought the Flanconade and many tawdry Embroideries, which they are as famous for inventing, as, I am sorry to say, we are degenerate enough to imitate, and even mimick. Pity! that we should be so fond of imitating a Nation, who have always been deceiving us. Rouse then, though noble British Spirit! (for sure no Time more calling than the present) lift up they brave fronted Head above these dandling Actions, and become thy wonted self! Love thy King, love the Country; stay they Heart his these, and thou art safe.

Thus I take my hearty farwel[sic] of the Flanconade. [13] [4]

The Flanconade, Domenico Angelo, The School of Fencing, 1763/1787

Tin-foil tri-corn hats aside… the flanconade is a relatively difficult action to learn at first, but easier with practice. It does require, as Godfrey points out too, that the off-hand must come into play to stay the opposing blade after parrying in order that one doesn’t double as they go to target. [5] I teach this action too, and as with counter-attacks, because while difficult one must still know how to defend against it.

For a last example, this time in re position, James Underwood’s The Art of Fencing or the Use of the Small Sword, 1798, is instructive. In many, maybe most treatises the author advises one to be back-weighted while on guard. Underwood, however, disagreed:

I am of opinion, that the distribution of the duty laid upon each leg ought to be equal, and the more equally they share in the weight, I will venture to say the body will be so much more supported. But let us examine into the consequential practice, by the disadvantage of laying a greater stress upon one leg than the other, or the advantage to be expected from the strength accruing from the proper weight given to both. If too great a stress lie upon the left leg, your retreat must be obviously the more unsteady, and weaker; if upon the right, you are crimped and checked in your advancing. If the greater share of weight lie upon the right, the left leg must take that share off, before you can advance, and so, vice versa, the right must act for the left in the retreat. But then this is the loss of your time, upon which every thing depends; whereas by equilibrial weight upon the legs, that time is saved. Here your body will be equally supported, therefore stronger and steadier; but by recovering and shifting in the other way, the motion of the body must be so much greater, that your arm is more likely to be thrown out of line. [4-5]

Many fencers are taught this way today, that is, instructed to distribute their weight equally. It works fine. However, the rear-weighted stance was common and works equally well provided one distributes one’s weight properly. I had doubts about it myself, but in discussion with Russ Mitchell, and especially after his how-to-lunge class, I finally understood how it is supposed to work. [6] I teach students both. First, I show them what a majority of the texts advocate and why—our en garde position, and the lunge especially, are compromises between proximity to target and removal of our own target. Next, I show them the equi-weighted stance. Purists may balk, but I focus on the goal of our stances, not the letter of the law—bodies are different and so supplied with a few principles, I advise students to find a position that is comfortable and yet still meets the critical aspects. The front foot should be straight ahead, their bodies turned about 3/4, and fist and weapon just outside the body if on guard in tierce. If the rear heel is not precisely on the line of direction and in line with the front, no matter—are they stable, balanced, and can they move in any direction required? That’s what’s important.

Selective Reading & Teaching

When using a fencing treatise, I read it all and more than once, but I do not necessarily include all I read in class. I am selective in what I use—not in what I read. I read page to page, because I need to see the author’s approach in toto, and, compare it to other, related works—but not everything is equally important. I rely on Girard’s Traité des arms/Treatise on Arms, 1740, for much of my small sword curriculum, but I have no plan to include his short section on defense against grain flails. I use Domenico Angelo’s L’École des armes/School of Fencing, 1763/1787, as well, but spend very little time if any on weapon seizures outside demonstrations. They are, again to quote dance master Les Kendall in “Strictly Ballroom,” largely “flashy, crowd pleasing steps,” and less secure than a firm grounding in parry-riposte and thrusts made in opposition.

There are things I include for reasons of completeness or because it explains or aids core material. For example, there is good reason to believe that prime in small sword derives from broadsword practice. Angelo says as much, and this guard and parry are redolent of the hanging species of guard often used in sabre and broadsword, but I share that fact, if I do, because someone asked or because of some similar prompt. Girard covers the use of multiple feints, actions like the 1-2-3, but rarely does one need to resort to three feints in an actual bout. Complicated maneuvers like this are what we call “medicine for the hand:” we drill a triple feint because it will, we hope, make our single feint that much sharper and crisp. Have I seen anyone use a triple feint in a bout? Yes, among high level foilists thirty years ago, but in historical fencing circles? No. We still have to contend with people who believe feints are not “martial” enough (despite how often they pop up in the military sources…).

My goal is two-fold in most lessons and classes. First, I want to present and teach as accurately as I can either the tradition I was taught, or, those from the past I have studied. For the latter I always provide the caveat that we can never recreate these extinct fight systems perfectly, but we can, hopefully, get a good idea of how they might have worked. Second, I want what students learn to be both reflective of its sources and useful—I see no reason to teach anyone actions that are more likely to get them hit than not, so when I teach counter-attacks, when I teach the flanconade, I do so at the appropriate time and with the necessary warnings.

Curriculum building is selective, personal, and should be subject to revision as new insights, ideas, and flaws in the existing approach appear. Historical fencing is a research and experimental archaeology driven field. Unlike colleagues in the Olympic world, who are not uncovering hitherto unknown material or inventing new actions, our understanding changes with newly discovered texts and better interpretations. [7] If we are not open to new, better information, our programs become moribund and stagnate. Moreover, what we choose to teach and how is everything, but it depends on what our goals are. Unless we wish to produce graceful puppets, we should know not only what to teach, but why. What one selects is up to the individual instructor, but have a reason and be able to explain your choice.

NOTES:

[1] See for example https://olympics.com/en/news/know-your-sport-taekwondo-rules-scoring-equipment, “Scoring,” and “Penalties and Prohibited Acts.”

[2] To name only one example, the Hippocratic school concluded that most illness women faced was due to the uterus. From a very large sample, see Lesley Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1994; Rebecca Flemming, “Women, Writing, and Medicine in the Classical World,” In The Classical Quarterly 57: 1 (2007): 257–79; Helen King, Hippocrates’ Woman: Reading the Female Body in Ancient Greece, New York, NY: Routledge, 1998; Vivan Nutton, Ancient Medicine, New York, NY: Routledge, 2005; Soranus, 1927.Gynecology. Edited by Ioannes Ilberg, Corpus Medicorum Graecorum/Latinorum, Berlin, DE: Teubner, 1927. [what, historians gonna history 😉 ]

[3] French speakers I ask your apologies for my loose translation. M.P. Lynch put out an edition in English (2021), which is useful, but which also has some translation choices that one might find less ideal, e.g. p. 110 where he uses “snafu;” for the original passage, see Ch. 17, p. 64:

Je répons que si l’on étoit affeuré que ce fùt un veritable coup tiré de droite ligne, sans feint, on pourroir y parer en opposant la main gauche, comme je l’ay fait voir dans mes autres Planches. Mais l’on peut étre trompé par des feintes, ou par des demy coups, & étant surprise, cette parade de cercle enveloppera tous ces coups qui pourroient vous étre poussez, & même fera perdre tous les desseins de vostre ennemy.

[4] American sentiment, which has long baffled me given our long friendship with France, tends to back the English view on everything from the Hundred Years War to the colonial contests of the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Had it not been for French support, we may well have lost our rebellion against England. More recent history makes this all the odder given that England and France were allies, as were we with both nations, in the world wars. Just something to think about.

[5] The flanconade, often called a “high-low” attack in modern epee, is effected by parrying a thrust in the high line in fourth, then dropping the point to the outside over the opponent’s weapon. One then thrusts to the outside low line. Many earlier works advocate using the off-hand to secure the opposing steel after beginning the thrust to avoid a double. For a useful modern example, my go-to is professionescherma.org’s channel on Youtube: https://youtu.be/4G63pNHS90M

[6] See Russ Mitchell, Basic Body Mechanics for Martial Artists, 2018.

[7] One outcome of the unfortunate merger between the USFCA (the US Fencing Coaches Assoc.) and the USFA (US Fencing Association, the body that governs the sport; the US branch of the FIE), is that instructors are encouraged to “renew” their certifications yearly, much as someone say in a profession like pharmacy might with CEs (continuing education courses). While admirable that the organization(s) are interested in ensuring a higher degree of ability among instructors, there are issues with this decision. For one, this is expensive and assumes—as ever—full-time coaches with some manner of decent pay. That is not true for most coaches. Second, unlike pharmacy, no one is inventing new ideas or actions that we must learn to stay current. It’s difficult not to see this measure as a money-grab.

The Grip in Small Sword

One of the questions I’m asked frequently is how one should hold a smallsword. With a large corpus of treatises upon which to draw this is, lucky for me, a relatively easy question to answer, and, with some degree of certainty. There are differences among the masters, but most are subtle and have more to do with the positioning of the hand than in how the fingers grasp the weapon.

My approach, an amalgam based on the sources, is typical of “most” works:

The thumb extends along the grip towards the guard and stops 12mm/.5” from the shell
The forefinger rests just opposite the thumb so that thumb and forefinger are sort of pinching the guard
The three remaining fingers grasp the grip and help keep the pommel, while in guard, against the wrist
The fingers do not go through the Arms of the Hilt/annulets

Remember that in French fencing the numbers we use, prime, seconde, tierce, etc., refer to hand positions. There is not, for example, an ideal form of quarte–if the hand is in quarte, one is in quarte, whether parrying high, low, or midline. This is likely one reason, for example, that some masters referred to “quarte over the arm” (modern sixte) when parrying in quarte (hand in quarte) on the tierce side. Here is a handy reference and visual representation of this:

Still looking for the source for this image

In the two bottom quadrants, the lower outside and lower inside lines respectively, the parries for the former are octave (supinated-ish) and seconde (pronated-ish), and for the later septime (supinated-ish; a.k.a. “half circle”) and prime (knuckles up). Quinte, 5th, is a bit different than the similar position for sabre:

NB: 5th as positioned here is not set in stone, but reflects how the hand is held–this can be raised or lowered.

What do the Sources Say?

Below are excerpts from a few sources, mid-17^th century to just before 1800, that cover the grip. Where possible I’ve added the original language if it was written in one other than English. For those without a translation, or for which I do not have one, I’ve summarized the import of the passage rather than offer a translation of my own. I’ve added images from the works when possible too—these are taken from public domain copies, but vary in quality.

NB: going from MS Word to WordPress, never mind the evils of autocorrect, often means errors in transliteration. I do my best to proofread, but if you notice misspellings, wonky accent marks, etc., please let me know and I will correct the error.

Charles Besnard, The Free Master of Weapons, 1653, p. 7 in ENG ver. by Rob Runacres and Reinier van Noort

To properly place oneself in guard and posture in order to practice the single sword or foil, one must first place the sword or foil in hand so that the thumb is placed on the cross or flat of the sword, and the index finger under the flat of the same in a half circle, and right under the thumb. Then tighten the grip of the three other fingers…

Pour bien se mettre en garde et posture pour faire l’exercice de l’épée seule ou fleuret, il faut premièrement mettre l’épée ou fleuret à la main, que le pouce soit posé sur la croisée ou plat de l’épée, et le doigt index soit sous le plat de celui-ci en demi rond, et droit sous le pouce, et serrer fermement la poignée des trois autres doigts…
[p. 7 in the Fr. Transcription by same editors]

De la Touche, The True Principles of the Single Sword, 1670

Next, you must draw the sword, taking it by the grip with the right hand and holding the scabbard with the left hand so that it does not follow the sword, and then draw it. This you can do in several manners, but it is done the easiest and the quickest by always keeping the thumb in the same position as it has in the first figure, and advancing and raising the hand until the sword is out of the scabbard, with the point turned towards the enemy, the thumb on the outside, that is to say, on the right side, and the sword on the edge, as in the second plate. [31 in van Noort and Coudre]

Les Vrais Principes [Ch. 2, p. 7]

Apres cela il faut tirer l’Espée, en la pregnant par la Poignée avec la main droite, & tenant le sourreau de la main gauche de peur qu’il ne suive l’Espée, & ensuite la tirer, ce que l’on peut faire de plusieurs manieres, mais la plus simple & la plus courte se fait en tenant toûjours le poulce dans la mesme situation qu’il a dans la premerie Figure, & avançant & levant la main jusques à ce que l’Espée soit hors du sourreau, la pointe tournee vers l’ennemy, le poulce en dehors, c’est a dire, du costé droit, & l’Espée sur le trenchant, comme dans la deuxiéme Planche.

Sir William Hope, Scots Fencing Master, 1686

Ma. You must hold your Sword after this manner; hold your Thumb upon the broad side of the Handle with your Fingers quite round it, as in the second Figure of the first Plate marked F and not as some do, who put their foremost and middle Fingers through the two arms of the Hilt, thinking that by doing that, they hold their Sword firmer, some use onely to put their foremost Finger through, which the Spainards did of old, and many even to this day do it; but both ways are most ridiculous, and dangerous.

Sch. I think any Man of common sense may perceive that, for when a Man holdeth his Sword in that fashion, with his Finger through the arms of the Hilt, he is in danger of having his Fingers broken, if his Adversary should inclose with him, and offer to force the Sword out of his hand, for holding it that way he cannot so easily quit with it, as he should, and therefore will infallibly in my opinion be in hazard of losing his Fingers, if not his life in the cause.

Ma. Sir, You have found exactly the hazard that a Man is in, in holding his Sword after that manner, but when you hold it, as I have before told you, you must hold it fast and firm, and not gently, so that your Adversary with the least sudden beat or twist may force it out of your hand. [11-13]

di Liancour, The Master of Arms, 1686

Let the right hand be turned half to tierce with the fingernails facing the ground, such that in parrying we need only turn the hand to half fourth, parrying straight thrusts to the inside from fourth with the cutting edge of the sword. [Lynch, 19]

Que la main droite soit tournée demy-tierce, les ongles vers la terre; d’autant qu’en parant l’on n’a qu’à tourner la main demy-quarte, l’on parera les coups poussez tout droit de Quarte dans les Armes, du trenchant de son Epée. [p. 8, Ch. III]

Jean-François Labat, The Art of Fencing, 1696/1740

…the Hilt of the Sword a little above the Hip, turning towards half Quart, the Thumb extended, pressing the Middle of the Eye of the Hilt, keeping the Fingers pretty close to the Handle, especially the little one, in order to feel the Sword firmer and freer in the Hand. [5, McMahon, Lector House edition]

L’art en fait d’armes ou de l’épée seule, avec les attitudes

…que le poignet de l’épée soit un peu plus haut que la hanche, tournant un peu vers la demi-quarte, le pouce étendu & apyué sur le milieu du corps de la garde entre les deux tranchains, serrant suffisament les doigts, sur tout le petit, asin de sentir l’épée plus ferme & plus libre dans la main. [9-10, L’Abbat]

Zachary Wylde, The English Master of Defense, 1711

your Hand fast gript about the hand of your Foil or Rapier, then put your Thumb long ways or forward upon it, your Arm quite extended from the Center of your Body, the Point of the Weapon being directed in a true Line against your Opponent’s right Pap, sinking somewhat low with your Body, your right Knee bowing or bent over the Toes of your right Foot, (tho’ some Masters teaches a strait Knee,) your left Knee more bent, inclining towards the Toes of your left Foot; lying in this Order is the Posture, which I call, Stand your Line, the Medium Guard then is fixt [p. 6 in the pdf]

Donald McBane, The Expert Swords-man’s Companion, 1712, p. 3-4:

Let the Grip of your Sword or Fleuret be no bigger, than that you can close your little Finger round it, and touch the Palm of your Hand; and let all your Fingers be round the Grip, and the point of your Thumb close too or near the Shell, which Guards your Hand, much more than as some People hold it, with the Pummel in the Hand, and fore Finger stretch’d out toward the Shell, they then can not command the Sword so well, and all the Advantage of hold it so, is, that they have a greater length from the Point to the Body, than if they held it with the Thumb close to the Shell. If the Grip of their Sword or Fleuret be larger than as here mention’d, it will be easily be Beat out of your Hand by a Batter.

When you are to Offend, whether at the Wall, or on the Floor, keep your and Hand Breast high, and Point rather below your Hand, and if you are to Defend at the Wall, keep your Hand as low as your or Hipp, and your Point as high as your Forehead; but for Defence on the Floor keep the proper Quart Guard, and by turning your Hand, you may Parie all high Thrufts, or Thrufts made at the Level of your Hand, and above; for Thrufts below the Level of your Hand, the Low Quart, and Seconde will Parie them.

Donald McBane, 1712; here with broadsword

Alexander Doyle, Neu Alamodische Ritterliche Fecht und Schirm-Kunst, 1715

Die Erstere nun/ Prima genennat/ belangend/ ziehet selbige ihren Nahmen daher/ wann man den Degen aus der Scheiden ziehen will/ denselben mit verkehrster Faust aud der Seiten ergreisset/ und nach dessen Entblosung sienem Feinde die spize bietet; da dann mit dem kleinen Finger in der Höhe/ dem Daumen unten/ mit zugelegter Faust und ausgeisirechtem Urm gegen die Uchsel die Spize praesentirt wird: Und in solcher Positur wird die so genannte Prima formiret [p. 1]

[Summary: prima/first is named for the fact that this is the position one is in after drawing the sword; one grabs it with the fist inverted; in this position, the thumb faces down, the little finger up; NB in the image below the fencers are not in prima]

Henry Blackwell, The English Fencing Master, 1730

Secondly, To hold a good Guard to defend your Body, your Right-Hand must be straight out with a little bend in your Arm, the Point against your Adversary’s Right-Breast, with your Four Fingers bent under one part of the Handle, and your Thumb over the upper part, with the Pummel close to your Wrist, as you shall see in the Posture, etc. [2]

Girard, Traité des armes, 1740

III. Que la poignée soit serrée près du pommeau avec le petit doigt, & le second doigt, & que la milieu du poulce soit apuyé à plat sur ladite poignée de l’Epée près de la sous-garde; laquelle poignée étant soutenuë du dedans la jointure du premier doigt, on aura la facilité de dégager & de tirer.

IV. Avoir le bras droit, & le poignet flexible & tourné demi quarte, de sorte que le demi trenchant de la lame regarde la terre, comme il est dit, & que le bout des ongles des trois derniers doigts de la main droite regarde le Ciel, & la plus grande partie de l’ongle du poulce, ainsi que le bout du premier doigt. [5-6]

Crawley, Philip T. The Art of the Smallsword, Featuring P.J.F. Girard’s Treatise of Arms. Wyvern Media, UK: 2014, 38.

3. That the handle is gripped near the pommel with the little finger & the second finger, & that the middle of the thumb is laid flat on the grip, near to the body of the hilt; of which is supported by the inside of the knuckle of the index finger, which will give greater ease in disengaging and thrusting.

4. The right arm & the wrist flexible & turned to demi-quarte, in such a way that the ridge of the blade is toward the ground, as stated, & that the fingertips and nails of the three last fingers point towards the sky, as the greater part of the thumbnail and the tip of the index finger.

Le Perche du Coudray [attrib.], L’exercise des armes ou le mainement du fleuret, 1676/1743

Voila de Toutes les Gardes

La Situation la plus naturelle, la plus gratieuse, et la moins dangereuse, Car toutes les autres sont Exposée, a tant de Contrecoups qu’il ny [ne?] faut pas penser, cest pourquou je Conseilleray toujours aux Amateurs de ce noble exercise de ne s’Escarter jamais des regles de cette garde, qui sont dabord de bien tenir son Epeé, ayant pour cette Effet la poulce sure le plat de la poigneé, la pointe a la Hauter de l’Epaule, que le pomeau de l’Epeé tombe en ligne directe sur la pointe du pied droit, qu’il soit a la hauteur de la hanche droite, il faut que le Corps soit droit sur les deux hances, et posé entierement sur la partie gauche, Cavant bien la hanche droit, et Effacant bien l’Epaule gauche, pliant le genoüil gauche et laissant beacoup de liberté dans le droit, asin de n’etre point Embarassé ny pour marcher, ny pour faire les Engagements d’Epeé; il faux que les deux pieds soient dans la même ligne et que les deux Talons se respondent l’un a lautre. Il faux être sendu Environ de deux semeles il faut que le bras gauche soit èlevé en faisant un de ny Cercle et que le creux de la main soit directment a la hauter de l’Oeil gauche, la tête droite le Corps bien effacé et observer tourjours une g. de liberté, le talon droite vis a vis l’Oeil du soulier gauche [1]

[Summary: thumb is flat on the handle, point shoulder high, pommel in direct line with tip of the right foot, at height of right hip]

Le Perche du Coudray [attrib.], 1676/1743

Juan Nicolás Perinat, Arte de esgrimir floret y sable/Art of Fencing, 1757/8 [from the transcription and translation by Tim Rivera, 2018]

It is necessary to be in guard in the mode that is seen in the figures of the first plate, both feet on the same line, both legs bent, the left more than the right, the hip supported on the left side, both arms half extended, the left higher and arched, the head erect, looking at the enemy, the hand turned between fingernails up and fingernails down, or in the regular posture, and the thumb over the plane of the sword, presenting the point to the enemy. [1]

Es menester ponerse en guardia del modo que se vé en las Figuras de la Lámina primera, ambos piés sobre una misma línea, las dos corvas dobladas, la izquierda mas que la derecha, la Cadera apoyada en la parte izquierda, ambos brazos médio tendidos, el izquierdo mas levantado y arqueado, la cabeza derecha, mirando al Enemigo, la mano vuelta entre uñas arriba y uñas abaxo o en postura regular, y el pulgár sobre el plano de la Espada, presentando la punta al Enemigo. [1]

Domenico Angelo, The School of Fencing, 1763/1783

You must observe that the gripe of the sword be put on quite centrical to the heel of the fort of the blade, which should have a little bend above the fingers, when in hand, and let the whole mounting be turned a little inward, which will incline your point in carte. This way of mounting your sword will facilitate your disengagements, and give you an easy manner of executing your thrusts. [2 in the 1787]

Il faut ausi que la garde de l’epée porte juste sur l’affiette du talon du lame, laquelle doit baisser un peu sur les doigts de la main, & le corps de la garde doit être tourné un peu en quarte. Cette maniere de monter uné epée donne de la facilité pour dégager & de la liberté pour tirer les coups d’armes. [p. 21 in the pdf from the BNF Gallica site]

Andrew Lonnergan, The Fencer’s Guide, 1771

In holding your Foil observe, that you must lay your thumb upon the flat of the handle, or grip, somewhat extended with your fore finger on the other flat behind, forming a square with the point of your thumb. Sometimes you will find a Foil, with a square handle, where no flat side can be distinguished; in such case, the flat of your Foil’s blade must guide you as before; but now the Foil blades are also square, therefore you must be guided by the kind of shell the Foil has; which shews you where the real flats of the handle and blade are, though still square. Now the whole hand should be at such a distance from the shell, so that the little finger should lock into the hollow part, or neck of the pummel; yet practice will allow you to shift your hand hereafter. Observe, when the handle or blade of your Foil is bent, or arched, you must always lay your thumb upon the round side; and the inside of your fingers ends on, or against, the hollow side, or part of the blade, griping the handle gently, and with as much freedom as if on a flute.

Some make a practice of holding the Foil between the fore and middle fingers, with the thumb propped against the fore-finger; yet this method, though successful enough to many by long practice, is not so recommendable to begin with as the former. [1-3]

J. Olivier, Fencing Familiarized/L’Art des armes simplifie, 1771

Ch. 2 How to hold the Sword

In order to hold a sword well, the hilt must be flat in your hand, your thumb stretched and at an inch distance from the shell, the pummet under your wrist.

Never keep the sword fast in your hand, but when you parry or thrust. For, if you hold it always with strength, the muscle of your thumb will soon grow stiff. [9]

Ch. 2 Maniere de tenir l’Epée

Pour bien tenir votre épée, il faut que la poignée se trouve à plat dans votre main, le pouce etendu à la distance de 12 lignes de la coquille, le pommeau sous le poignet.

Ne serez jamais l’épée en votre main, que lorsque vous parez ou tirez car, si vous la teniez toujours avec force, vous vous engourdiriez bientôt le muscle du pouce. [p. 10]

John MacArthur, The Army and Navy Gentleman’s Companion, 1780 [NB: fan of J. Olivier’s teaching and method]

Lesson 1: The Manner of Holding the Sword or Foil, etc.

In order to hold your sword well, the hilt must be flat in your hand; so that the two edges will be nearly horizontal when you throw yourself upon guard; your thumb stretched along the upper flat part of the hilt, within half an inch of the shell, and the pummet is to rest under your wrist. [p. 3]

Danet, L’Art des armes, Paris, FR: Chez Herissant, Fils, 1788

Manière de tenir l’Epée

Pour tenir avantageusement l’épée, il faut que la poignée se trouve entre le tenar & l’hypotenar, & le pommeau à la naissance de la main; que le pouce soit allonge jus-qu’à la distance d’environ douze lignes [*] de la coquille sur le plat de la poignée; qu’en même temps le milieu de l’index se place dessous la poignée près de la coquille; que la poignée soit étroitement embrassée par le doigt majeur, & encore serrée contre le tenar vers la pommeau, par l’annulaire & l’auricularie: mais il ne faut serrer la poignée que dans l’instant seulement que vous tirez, ou que vous parez; parceque les muscles due pouce, de l’index & du doigt majeur s’engourdissent promptement, au lieu qu’il n’en est pas de même de ceux qui sont agir le petit doigt & l’annulaire.

Il est des occasions où il convient de lâcher ces deux doigts pour faciliter l’exécution de cetain coups. J’aurai attention de vous en prevenir quand il le saudra. [3]

[Summary: the thumb is extended along the grip and a short distance from the shell; index is under the grip, opposite the thumb; of note, Danet reminds the fencer not to grip tightly save when thrusting or parrying; the three remaining fingers keep the weapon secure, pommel is against the wrist]

* The ligne, “line,” was a unit of measure in pre-Revolution France. This particular measure had an English parallel, of the same name, which varied in length between 1/10 and 1/40 of an inch. The French ligne corresponds to about 2.3mm. Incidentally, a pouce, or “thumb” [approx. 27mm] was also a measurement within this system, but that is not how the word is used here. For more on this, a useful summary is provided in William A. Smeaton, “The Foundation of the Metric System in France in the 1790s: The Importance of Etienne Lenoir’s Platinum Measuring Instruments,” in Platinum Metals Rev. 44:3 (2000), 125ff [https://technology.matthey.com/article/44/3/125-134/]; see also Suzanne Débarbat,”Fixation de la longueur définitive du mètre,” in Ministère de la culture et de la communication (1999): https://francearchives.gouv.fr/fr/pages_histoire/39436 ; of note, the ligne is still used by some milliners, cf. https://www.levinehat.com/blogs/levine-hat-blog-1/19189051-what-are-french-lignes

Censorship or Criticism? Why You’re Wrong about “Gate-Keeping”

“Discord is the great ill of mankind; and tolerance is the only remedy for it.”
― Voltaire, Philosophical Dictionary

[Warning: rant ensues]

The choice of quotation is not an accident. Thanks to a toxic mix of politics and poor life choices I left most social media a few years ago, and, with one exception (barring messenger/email apps), have next to nothing to do with it. Research articles on the effects of social media continue to support my belief that this was a good decision. It’s not just that people can’t watch or read anything longer than a tiktok video or tweet, but that the supposed anonymity fails to prevent, and maybe even encourages them to be nastier than they would be, in most cases, to one’s face. How does this related to fencing? I promise to connect A and B if you keep reading.

It gets worse. Swimming in such a shallow pool feels safe, because everything is on the surface, but this ignores that fact that one can still be sunburned, even drown in an inch of water. It changes people.

The faux familiarity, the apparent openness, and the need for connection that social media seeks to create but which it actually undermines, all produce an illusory culture of contented seemingly intimate pals. Test it. Say something vaguely controversial and see how people react—the ability to differentiate between confirmed belief and a joke is all but nonexistent; lacking facial cues, changes in intonation, etc., this is hardly surprising. It is not an accident, however, that this diminished capacity for communication and an equally strong inability to separate criticism and censorship have grown in parallel.

Gate-keeping online is the new Inquisition, not only for the social auto de fe that so often follows in its wake, but also for the fact that the basis for it is confused.

There are a lot of ways people define “gate-keeping,” but I find that the Urban Dictionary, while typically an amalgam of denotations, taken in toto provides a fair sense of what contemporary terms and movements mean. Here are a few from the first two pages of definitions:

Gatekeeping is to make your interests exclusive in order to protect them from becoming “mainstream”
When someone takes it upon themselves to decide who does or does not have access or rights to a community or identity.
A word used to describe when someone sets a standard/limit on what someone must do to call themselves a ‘true fan’ of something/someone.
When someone uses a hobby or interest as a means of elevating themselves above others to give oneself a sense of being superior transforming their passion or knowledge about a particular subject into an ugly tool of self-inflation
When someone takes it upon themselves to decide who has access to something
When people discriminate against others who want to enjoy the same things as them, and usually gatekeepers use the dumbest reasons as excuses [1]

For a slightly more august definition, the Cambridge Dictionary defines it as “the activity of trying to control who gets particular resources, power, or opportunities, and who does not. [2]

More than once I’ve been accused of gatekeeping, but according to these definitions I have not, in fact, been gate-keeping. No, I have criticized poorly constructed theories, ineffective training regimens, inexpert translations and interpretations, and bigots. This is important, because what I have NOT done is:

make my interests exclusive in order to protect them from becoming “mainstream”
set a standard/limit on what someone must do to call themselves a ‘true fan’ of something/someone
used a hobby or interest as a means of elevating myself above others to give myself a sense of being superior or transformed my passion or knowledge about a particular subject into an ugly tool of self-inflation
decided who has access to something
discriminated against others who want to enjoy the same things as me, and for the dumbest reasons

I would love for well-researched, well-coached, and inclusive historical fencing to take off and become mainstream. I have no business telling people what they can or should like—people like what they like. This hobby, well, um, it does not elevate one socially at all and those who, sadly, think it does I feel pity and compassion for—fencing is not going to help you find a date, fame, or money. Historical fencing should be for all—the only people I will not teach or interact with are people who are known bigots. [3] Finally, I have trouble understanding why anyone would discriminate against people who share the same interests—hell, I’d all but kill for more people interested in the things I am!

Here is what I do and will continue to do:

I will continue to support good research, and, attempt to improve bad research
I will continue to do my part, as an educator, researcher, and fencer to support, make, and improve interpretations of historical fencing
I will continue to do my part to create an inclusive culture (bigots either get wise or fuck off)
I will endeavor, as I have to date, to do all of this with compassion and understanding, because historical research and interpretation is, by its nature, extremely difficult to do and even harder to do well

Lastly, I issue a challenge. The next time you think someone is gate-keeping, take the time to consider a) what gate-keeping is and b) if what you find unpleasant conforms to those rubrics or not. IF, as so often happens, you’re simply reading something that you don’t like, or which you somehow think is about you, or which makes you feel attacked, pause and consider the likelihood of that. As I’ve said, most things are not about us. It’s probably not about you, and you know, if someone my age can figure out how to mute a channel or thread, then you can too. Like it or not you’re responsible for your feelings and how you react, not me. I take care of my garden, you take care of yours. That’s what wearing grown-up pants is all about kids.

In our context, if you’re upset that a cherished theory has been challenged or that some old, obscure upstart has dared accuse some HEMALand darling you admire of poor work, reflect upon what that says about you.

I am not interested in making enemies; I’m interested in good research and fulfilling my duty as a trained researcher to steer people right about research. It comes with the sheepskin. This said, if calling out charlatans and would-be experts creates enemies of them, or you, fine. IF I’ve taken the time to call them out, there is a reason, and it has nothing to do with self-aggrandizement, attacking others, or just being an asshole. It’s not like anyone thanks me for it—getting attaboys is not the purpose: improving research is. I don’t need or want thanks or anything of the sort, just better research.

If I’ve called someone out about their work [key word, their work, not they themselves], it’s because I know they lack the skill, experience, and/or knowledge to make the claims they are or have made a grave error and are fooling people about it. Most people, wisely, don’t pursue research as a career-path, and so there is a responsibility on those of us who do to do right by all. Theories and interpretations are things we can evaluate, that are demonstrable, and either someone has those skills or doesn’t; either they’ve proceeded responsibly with their research, or they haven’t. The only time this gets “mean” is in HOW we call these things into question. It is never my intention to be mean—life is cruel enough and hardships a plenty without my adding to it.

Please note: my goal in throwing myself up for a beat-down when I offer criticism (that is, critiques to help someone improve or fix a position they are sharing) is intended to help them, not blast them. I spent over a decade learning to conduct research and another decade honing and teaching others to reason and analyze information. I want people to do better work. Too many academics could care less, and most wouldn’t bother trying to help non-academics improve. There’s a direct correlation between depth of snootiness and lack of resources that explains that; put another way, many academics are small people and sad. For me, the so-called Ivory Tower is bloody useless if its treasures are hoarded away only to be enjoyed by the three people in that field (see gatekeeping defintions 1, 2, 4-6 above…). I won’t be party to that, and so, I do what I can to share those treasures with everyone, and for reasons of time, interest, and experience, I do that mostly in historical fencing.

NOTES:

[1] https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Gatekeeping

[2] https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/gatekeeping

[3] By kn0wn-bigots I mean those who wear all the symbols and spout the trash that bigots do. If they don’t say these things in class, and attack no one, then I don’t know about and they fly under the radar. Locally, at least, people know from the main page on this site that bigots are not welcome.