Senese, Alessando. The True Use of the Sword. Bologna, IT: Herede di Vittorio Benacci, 1660. Translated by Christoper A. Holzman, 2025, Lulu Press.
Though a fencing text long-dismissed as poorer than most (Iacopo Gelli referred to it as “a work of limited fencing value”), Senese’s True Use of the Sword, despite its flaws, nonetheless contains considerable value. Not only does it contain some useful insights into the Art, but it also contains contemporary concerns that resonate today within the historical fencing community. Beyond this, while the True Use of the Sword will frustrate readers keen for detailed explanations of individual techniques or actions, it is surprisingly insightful with regard to combat psychology and preparedness, as well as some of the deeper truths that arise after long study of the Art.
I had the pleasure to assist Christopher Holzman with the Latin portions of this translation, and came to understand his doubts about it in the process. [n] Most of the works that Chris has translated into English, to date, have been stand-out treatments in one way or another. Marcelli, Rosaroll & Grisetti, and Del Frate are major works within the Italian fencing tradition; even less significant works, such as Terracusa e Ventua’s True Neapolitan Fencing is important for what it reveals about the survival of the Neapolitan system, and, as one of the only Italian works on fencing from the 18th century.
Senese’s text, in contrast, is a curious book. As with his previous work, Chris does his best to stay as close as one can to the original phrasing and vocabulary, a particularly daunting task when the original author was not, to put it mildly, a great writer. If anything, Chris has improved the readability of the original, an impressive feat given the sometimes-convoluted modes of expression Senese favored. Footnotes, courtesy of Chris, will help explain some of the terms and clarify some of the denser explanations the author offered.
Organization
The book is organized around Senese’s chief tenets for fencing. There is considerable front-matter, mostly dedicatory, and much of it in Latin. Senese informs the reader in a short epilogue that a friend provided the florid Latin encomia to Charles Ferdinand, Archduke of Further Austria (d. 1662) and the Latin summary in the last part of the book. The initial dedication appears in Latin and Italian, but is followed by an ode, an epigram, and a distichon, all in Latin.
For students of history and early modern literature, the inclusion of the seven liberal arts to frame the ode will be unsurprising, but the ways in which Senese (or his friend) link each one to aspects of fencing is perhaps novel. The epigram is rich in classical imagery and in a way echoes the use of the liberal arts in the ode, though here the author enumerates his specific concepts of fencing and their value.
A note to the reader follows and in it Senese explains his position:
The art of using the sword for the defense of one’s body is the true art; not that which is commonly practiced in the schools and taught by the professors, let alone those particular blows that I read from the writers; but for that which the most famous swords of my country already practiced, and for those precepts that I offer to you to read in this present work.
The true art is that which offers a determined end to be infallibly obtained with the exact observance of its precepts.
The letter to the reader informs what follows in his rules; it is the why to his how, as it were, and beyond that gives at least one master’s view of his contemporaries. Fencing treatises were often resumes of a sort, and naturally Senese ‘s poor opinion of the efforts of all other masters was meant to push himself forward, but at the same time some of what he says was also true. This is not to say that one could make oneself unbeatable or invincible, nice as that would be, but that there were issues within many schools that led their students to losses, even death, when it mattered. Senese was hardly alone in such complaints.
The first few chapters define terms and provide key explanations of his ideas. Chapter 2, for example, explores what Senese calls “the long game,” what we would today call working from critical distance versus fighting in distance. The next chapter takes up “weight,” what we would call “guard” or the guard position today. Like many 17th, even 18th century works, Senese wanted the weight on the rear leg (cf. Besnard, Marcelli, Girard, etc.). Measure and its navigation, motion and movement, line, perspective, finding the sword, and what he calls “the indivisible tempo” follow.
His chapters on the “true wound” and “true parries” reveal a far more conservative approach to defense than that of many of his contemporaries. It is not that other masters failed to take this perspective, but that they less consciously call out the issues and problems around them. This perspective is one of the chief attractions to The True Use of the Sword: it is less a book on fencing than it is a book on how to approach actual fighting with a sword.
Chapter 11, on the feints, is likely to excite the simple-minded and kindle useless debate and discussion in some circles of historical fencing, but nothing he says there is untoward. Readers who stop at the first line, however, will miss the point. The feint, to be effective, must appear to be a credible threat and not, as he remarks, motions that are basically probing actions. A proper feint forces the opponent to parry. Cuts, the subject of Chapter 12, will read a bit differently from some masters, too. In Senese’s view, cuts are used in two instances: as a riposte or as an attack. An obvious point, but one he makes as a way to attack those who use cuts poorly. The example he gives, a feint to the face to draw the parry, and then a cut to the torso or leg, illustrates his meaning. Here, as in most places, Senese reminds us that measure, timing, etc. must be correct as well.
Of particular interest is his chapter (Chapter 13) on the use of the sword alone against someone using sword and dagger. Much of what Senese says here provides a window into the thinking that typifies “transitional rapier” and ultimately, smallsword. For Senese, if one relies on a dagger for defense, one is handicapped. In this he is not wrong, but he was not alone in stating this either. Marcelli, among others, covered the sword alone first for a reason. In Senese what we see is a 17th century master attacking common problems of the day—this is important, because we have a tendency to think fencers were “better” in the past, that masters were as effective at fighting as they were in teaching, and in putting forth their own views it can be easy to miss the reality. Then as now some were better teachers, more effective fighters, than others.
Chapter 14 provides a brief summary of his key tenets; chapter 15 the key faults in poor fencers.
The remaining portions of the book, the first on “the necessary and infallible rules of the proper handling of the sword” and the second on “a figure explaining the theory of a would to the opponent’s left,” were written in Latin. The rules, via fourteen individual sections, repeat, again, the principles by which Senese teaches the Art. The explanation of the figure is rough reading, but will prove useful for the patient reader who takes the time to explore it in space.
Significance
Unlike most works of the time, Senese does not include detailed descriptions of technique or list a multitude of various actions. He states, then repeats, a set of guidelines that should inform how one uses the repertoire of fencing. By analogy, Senese is more akin to Zbigniew Czajkowski’s Understanding Fencing than he is Gaugler’s Science of Fencing. For example, Senese states that anyone who wishes to teach the sword professionally must be able to “operate respectively in four cases:” in courteous bouts for amusement and as exhibition; effectively in bouts where they demonstrate their superior skill against strangers; in actual fights where harm or death are possible; and in those cases where the teacher is out in the world in difficult terrain. The reason is that
In each of these four cases, the person must have meditated and prepared what he must do, because he has to operate differently in each of the aforementioned ways, since it takes more than knowing how to put oneself in beautiful perspective on guard and performing a pretty thrust to the target, however, the perceived opinion of the common people against the professors is now wonder.
The True Use of the Sword contains many such asides that highlight different cultural attitudes. For another example, Senese is quick to call out those untutored but nonetheless teaching, a problem that resonates all the more now:
they remain blind and learn all that can be learned in six months, which has nothing to do with the perfect science that is learned with effort and not in months but in years. So, sparing the effort, they also spare the science…
Therefore, take it as the most certain vanity every time that someone will be persuaded to want to teach this profession in a short time, or rather, some particular blows, because he will really teach being killed by some hasty, bestial ignoramus.
In like vein, Senese laments the common incidence of the incontro, or double, in bouts and duels of his time. Today’s historical fencers—for sometimes different reasons—wrestle with the same problem. One explanation as valid then as now is that
many fencers with a singular and artful game who, having arrived so that they are at a certain mark, stop themselves there as if no more remains for them to learn and in the occasions they remain either confused or doubtful and they always have questions to ask according to the diversity of encounters, a sign that they lack the true rule that resolves all the questions and hinders all the vanity.
Tourney-“HEMA,” for example, is rife with fencers rushing to measure and doubling; some even game doubling just as their Olympic cousins do. All of this is to say that Senese demonstrates that nothing is new and that the problems we see now are merely the same issues in different costume.
This text, however, is not without practical advice for given situations. Sense, wisely, recommends that the “most secure” wound is one that follows a parry. He reminds us that in seeking another’s blade we should only do so when it is out straight before us. Read together with other fencing treatises of the time is perhaps the best way to read Senese. At the very least, having read him, a fencer will read Giganti, Pallavicini, and Marcelli with a better grasp of the larger picture informing their respective approaches.
Do not read Senese for technique—this will be a disappointment. Read Senese first for the view it gives one of 17th century fencing culture. Second, read Senese for the sound tactical advice he shares, advice that in this reviewer’s opinion would do much to improve historical fencing today. His defensive mindset, his abhorrence of the double, and his wisdom in advocating that one does best who fences as if the swords where “white” (i.e. sharp) rather than “black” (practice weapons) is as sound now as it was in 1660.
[n] My close friend and colleague, Dr. Antone Minard (Simon Fraser University & UBC), and I had the pleasure to manage the Latin portions.
Capo Ferro’s lunge, p. 49 in _Great Representation of the Art and Use of Fencing_ (1610)
In a recent discussion with a good friend and fellow fencer about differences in perception of success when bouting, we got to talking about how this plays out specifically for rapier. He’s been frustrated when bouting with the folks at his other school, namely by the lack of concern they have for their own theoretical safety, and, their over-reliance on cuts. Having spilt so much binary ink on the issue of failure to focus on how safely one makes a touch (over just making it no matter what), I’ll leave that aside, for now, and focus on the matter of cuts in rapier. [1]
It’s not that cuts didn’t exist within the canon of attacks for rapier, because they absolutely did, but that they tend to enjoy a disproportionate amount of attention in “HEMA.” Moreover, there are some clubs, perhaps the one my friend attends included, that opt for a cut over a thrust more often than they probably should. By and large, the rapier was a thrusting weapon; this use only intensified as rapier play developed, a fact demonstrated well within the surviving corpus of texts. The rapier of Agrippa and that of Marcelli, while similar in many ways, likely boasted an important difference: blade width and overall weight. [2]
Generally, cutting swords have a wider blade profile—there are more knowledgeable people than I am who can verify this. Gus Trim, Tinker, and Peter Johnsson, among others, can provide far more specific, detailed answers. Though not always critical depending on sword-type, many cutting swords weigh a bit more than those for thrusting do. [3] Earlier rapiers tended to boast wider blades than many later ones. None of this, however, was monolithic—there was no committee for rapier width and use. Older swords stayed in service or were re-hilted. Newer swords might reproduce a cherished heirloom. There was the issue of individual preference. And, surviving examples demand caution as not only are there many fakes produced for rich collectors in the late 19th/early 20th centuries, but some extant swords are likely an amalgam of different weapons.
With extant examples all over the map, and few in number relatively speaking, a far better guide to use, at least for suggested use, resides in the treatises on rapier. To cover more than a couple here would be the length of a bible, and since I’m told my posts are “too long” (really? Does no one read anything longer than a headline?), I’ll cover a small sample. What follows is a picture painted with broad strokes—individual texts may be more cut-happy, but compared to the majority of texts and the overall representation of the rapier as thrusting weapon the take-away is that the point is primary, not the edge.
Camillo Agrippa (1553)
Significantly, Agrippa assumed cuts as part of the fencer’s repertoire of actions. This said, he makes it clear that he vastly prefers the point, and, that it is superior to cuts. For example, Camillo in discussing his first guard wrote
Moreover, some people say they can raise a man out of a guard in which he holds his hand extended in this way by cutting with mandritti and riversi, with defensive weapons such as the dagger or the cape, or by seizing the blade with a guanto di presa. I reply that this is nonsense, for, as I have often repeated, someone who tries to beat the point of your sword aside with mandritti is only fooling themselves. That is because you can, in a single action, without moving your arm any, lower the point a little bit to evade the enemy’s sword, aim at his right side, extend your arm while rotating your hand, and step forwards with your right foot to hit him.
Et rispondendo à quelli che affermano poter levar’ uno facilmete da questa Guardia, tenendo tanto innanzi la mano, con mandritti, riversi, & co arme diffensive, come son oil pugnale, et la cappa, overo pigliandola co’l guanto da presa, fargliela distuile, dico replicando quan to ho detto molte volte, che s’ingannano d’ assai, difignando con loro mandritti, batterli la punta de la spada, perche senza movere punt il braccio dal suo loco, abbassando alquanto la detta punta, col schifar la spada contraria, & volgendo la mano in giro, verso la parte destra del nemico, et brevemente, co’l springere d’ esssa mano, & col passer innazi, di pie dritto, tutto in un tratta potrebbe invester l’ aversario… [4]
It is not that Agrippa eschewed these cuts, for he also says just a little farther into the same chapter that one can easily make these cuts from his guard of prima. He also mentions that these kinds of cuts can be useful if the opponent attempts to beat or seize one’s weapon—this implies an attack into tempo from a secure position and distance. It does not suggest using cuts as a direct attack. Elsewhere Agrippa mentions using cuts, such as a riversi to the flank or leg, from grappling distance, which makes sense: it’s harder to bring the point to bear from close measure:
However, if the enemy is so quick that he can make a stramazzone to your head, abandon the first technique, parry him close to your hilt, and follow with the same grappling technique, raising your right hand and aiming the point at his right side in second so that he has to parry—whereupon you can attack him with a riverso to the flank or leg.
Ma se il nemico fosse cosi presto, che volgesse co un stramzazzone per testa, Questo abbandonarebbe il principal colpo, ch’ io dissi di sopra, & volgendo di croce, pararebbe al contrario, presso al fornimento de la sua spada, & sequirebbe à far’ la presa sopradetta, alzando la mano dritta in alto, con la punta verso il fianco suo destro, con la volta di mano, & benche il nemico parata che havesse la Seconda di questo, potesse offenderlo d’un riverso nel fianoc, overo ne la gamba. [5]
Throughout his text, Agrippa does not discount the cut, but uses it in specific instances. For the most part, he advocates using the point whenever possible, and, it makes sense—thrusts are faster, and, more devastating.
Nicoletto Giganti (1606)
Giganti begins his work with the sword alone as “carrying a dagger, targa or rotella is not common in every part of the world,” and even so armed one might lose them in a combat and be left only with the sword. [6] His work starts with focus on the thrust. After introducing guards and counter-guards, and explaining measure and tempo, the very next thing Giganti shares is his take on the direct thrust via lunge.
It is not until his twelfth plate that he mentions cuts, and concerning that plate the topic is delivering a thrust in tempo against someone making a cut. [7] Two plates later he discusses defense against someone making a cut to the leg. [8] It is little surprise given his treatment of cuts in the portion dealing with the sword alone that when it comes to sword and dagger Giganti is also concerned more with defense against cuts than using them. Both cover methods for parrying a head-cut with the dagger, the second being specific to countering a riverso. [9]
This treatise is popular in “HEMA,” and Leoni’s edition is fantastic as he does much to help the reader understand not only terminology, but also the pedagogical approach and principles. Emphasis throughout this text is mostly on the thrust; where he covers cuts, it’s mostly in reference to defending against them.
Capo Ferro (1610)
NO idea what’s up with the formatting
This master’s work, another popular in “HEMA,” like those covered so far, is no exception for preferring the thrust to the cut. In chapter 12, “Of Strikes” (Del ferire), section 116, Capo Ferro states
The cut is of little importance, since it is impossible to use it in the narrow measure. The arc described by my arm and sword leaves me completely open and makes me lose measure; instead, it gives the opponent a good tempo in which to hit me. Although the cut is of some utility, the thrust can always be employed more fruitfully from the same measure and in the same tempo.
Il taglio è di poco momento; perche non posso ferire di taglio nelle dette distanza della misura stretta, che per il giro del braccio, e della spada, ch’io fo, non mi scuopra tutto è non dia misura, & tempo all’annversario di ferirmi, & se pure si trova qualche utilità di taglio non è però, che nella medesima misura, & nell’ istesso tempo non si possa mostrare una maggior della punta. [10]
Throughout his treatise, Capo Ferro’s focus in on the thrust, and in fact, he has a separate section near the end entitled “Some Principles regarding the Cut” (Dalcuni Termini del Taglio), where he makes this clear:
I had thought of adding some illustrations on how to deliver and parry cuts (plus a good number of actions on this topic), but I realized I can accomplish the same with a brief description of the following principles.
Ha vevo fra me stesso risoluto di appresetarvi aclune figure, che vi mostrassero il mod di coltelliggiare, sì del parare, come del ferire, & in quest’attione mostrarvi molti effetti, ma considerando, che quello, che potevo fare con le figure, possolo ancor fare co questi pochid’avertimenti, che vi propongo… [11]
Of note, Capo Ferro mentions cuts within the body of the work, often as options in certain situations, but his plates and the focus is, again, on thrusts.
Francesco Alfieri (1640)
On first glance this master might be said to have advocated for the cut more in his treatise, La Scherma/On Fencing, so it seemed fitting to include him. After all, if he provides an argument for the inclusion of the cut in our own rapier practice, then it would be remiss not to discuss him. However, a close reading will indicate that to say Alfieri was different than most other masters would be to misread him.
In chapter 18, on attacks and types of strikes, Alfieri mentions two types of attacks, the thrust and the cut. He then enumerates the various cuts and explains their meaning, e.g. riverso is a backhand cut, a mandritto a forehand cut. Importantly, just after the explication of cuts, he writes
It is common for all fencers to consider the thrust far preferable to the cut. The reason they point to is that the thrust is more lethal, which is something I don’t necessarily agree with. A shorter, wider sword wielded by a strong man can deliver cuts every bit as fearsome as thrusts—which means that the this reason must be complemented by other considerations to explain the most basic difference between these two modes of attack.
Tutti li Schermitori comunemente vogliano, che’l ferir di punta sia di gran longa, megliore che’l ferir di taglio, e la ragione che ne adducano è, perche la punta sia più mortale del taglio, io non resto in questo sodisfatto, I tagli d’una Spada corta, larga, è d’un braccio forte, si deveno cosi temere quanto le punte, e però alla ragion de gl’altri, par à me che si debbano aggiungere alter considerazioni le quali mostrano con maggior son damento la lor differeza. [12]
The master provides four additional reasons for the value of the thrust over a cut. First, one uses more of the weapon to cut, and casting so much of the weapon makes it easier for the opponent to defend since there is more of the weapon to intercept. Second, the thrust is faster—it traverses a shorter path to target; cuts, he adds, may be stopped by bone and not reach the vital organs. Third, because the arc of a cut is slow, it allows an opponent potentially more time to anticipate one’s attack and prepare for it. Lastly, cuts tire the arm as they require more energy and motion to make, not to mention often uncovering the body.
Plate 5, Alfieri, _La Scherma_, 1640
In his first dedicated section on the attack, Chapter V, Alfieri covers the stocata longa and the two principal cuts (due Tagli principali). Leoni translates the chapter title as “How to Perform the Lunge: The Two Main Cuts,” which obscures the importance of the word stocata. As he himself explains in the glossary of his translation of Giganti, stoccata is a general term for the thrust. [13] In the Italian the title of the chapter reads Come si Tiri la stocata longa, e i due Tagli principali, or, somewhat loosely, “How to Lunge the Thrust, and the Two Main Cuts.” A reader unacquainted with the original text (and Italian), will likely read this as “how to lunge the two main cuts.”
The Italian corpus includes a number of terms for the lunge—arguably stocata longa might be taken as merely a lunge, but next to the passage the title corresponds point for point. To translate this as a lunge versus a lunge via thrust gives undue precedence to the cut. In this very section, Alfieri indicates that the lunge with thrust comes first:
To learn how to deliver it [the lunge], place yourself in the mixed guard and move your hand, sword, arm, foot and shoulder all in a single tempo. By doing so, your thrust will reach farther, travel faster and your attack will be virtually impossible to parry.
Per imparare à tirar la bisogna ritrovarisi nella Guardia Mista, e in un tempo unire à far questo moto, la mano, la Spada, il braccio, il piede, e la spalla, con queste circostanze s’allonga il colpo, va con velocita, ed è poco meno che irreparabile… [14]
Placed together, the direct thrust and the two chief cuts, the mandritto and riverso, illustrate this author’s stance in re cuts: they belong in one’s arsenal. The next chapter likewise mixes these attacks, but notably starts with thrusting options. In sum, while Alfieri clearly valued the cut and provided options for it, he covers the thrust first and argues for its primacy.
Francesco Marcelli (1686)
As a last and late example, I’ve selected the text from which I work most, Marcelli’s Rules of Fencing. That changes in practice had occurred since Agrippa is clear—Marcelli remarks that
In order to fulfill my duty, because the cuts are not so frequently practiced, I must not omit their explanation, and also teach them to avail themselves of them in tempo, so that the studious disciple can, in a regulated manner, avoid the danger of it and turn it to their advantage. Nonetheless, with the warning made a little earlier, that the cuts are less effective than the thrusts, I have intended to delay the cuts for these; since one, as much as the other, can bring grave danger to the actor when they are performed out of their tempo; and those, as much as these, are well-made when they are made in tempo.
Non perche non siano tanto frequetemente pratticati I Tagli, devo tralascirare la di loro spiegatione, sì per coplire al mio debito, come anche per insegnarli à servirsense à Tempo, acciò lo studioso discepolo possa, con la regolata maniera, sfuggirne il pericolo, & insieme convertirlo in proprio vantaggio. E nè meno, con avertire poco fà, che i Tagli sono meno efficacy delle pute, hò inteso di posponerli à questse; poscia che, cosi gl’uni, come l’altre, possono apportar grave pregiuditio all’Attore, quado sono operate furoi del suo Tempo; e tanto quelli, quanto queste sono bone da farsi, quanod sono fatte à Tempo. [15]
Like Alfieri, Marcelli is quick to note that the cut is slower, larger, and therefore dangerous to make out of tempo. He goes on to say
The cut is called the son of the thrust because it must proceed in second intention in order not to be at risk (making it in first intention) of the evident danger of the opponent’s offense. The reason is that the cut is an action very poor for defense, in itself, as it goes to wound and exposes the whole body in the tempo that it makes its circle. It is not like the thrust that, in going forward and returning back, always moves along a line and keeps the body continually covered under the weapon, and is found in presence of the opponent.
Il Taglio si chiama figlio della punta, perche si deve sequire di Seconda intentione, per no arrischiarsi (facendolo di Prima) ad evidente pericolo dell’offesa dell’avversario. Periòche il Taglio è un’Attione per se stessa molto povera di difesa, nel mentre, che và per offendere, e scopre tutto il corpo nel tempo, che fa il suo circolo; e non è come la punta, la quale hell’andare avanti, e nel tornare in dietro, camina sempre per una linea, e mantiene continuamente il corpo coperto sotto l’armi, e si trova in persenza del nemico. [16]
The rest of the chapter introducing cuts describes the various specific uses and then ends with Marcelli’s suggestion that cuts be reserved largely for ripostes:
In summary all of the past discussion it is gathered that the cut must not be made to occur in the first intention, that is to say, other than as a riposte. This is for two reasons; first, because it is a universal rule of fencing that in all its actions, in order to make them perfect, it is necessary to make them sudden so that the velocity of the movement makes them invisible to the opponent’s eye so that he cannot parry them. If the cut, therefore, is also enumerated among those, and is it inferior in perfection and goodness to none when it is performed with regulation, it must also be based on that universal and invariable maxim of this profession… The second reason for which I advise against the aforesaid decision is because the cut has less measure than the thrust. Therefore, having to strike purposefully with it, it would be necessary to bring the torso very forward to accompany it with the body.
In somma da tutto il passato discorso si raccoglie, che il Taglio non si deve seguire di Prima intentione, che è l’istesso dire, che di risposta. E ciò per due ragioni: la prima, perche è Regola universale della Scherma, che tutte le attioni di essa; per far, che siano perfette, bisogna farle improvise, acciò la velocità del moto re renda invisibile all’occhio del nemico, che non possa pararle; se dunque il Taglio, è ancora numerato trà quelle, & a niuna è inferiore di perfettione, e bontà, quando è operato con regola, deve essere ancora appoggiato sù quella Massima universale, & infallibile di cotcsta Professione… La Seconda ragione, per la quale io consiglio il predetto partito, è, perche il Taglio hà minor misura della Stoccata, e perciò, per dover colpire con esso di proposta, sarebbe necessario di portare avanti assai la vita, e di accompagnarlo co’l corpo. [17]
Mondschein’s chart of weapon & blade specs in his translation of Agrippa parallels other studies on the changing nature of rapier blades over time. [18] There are always exceptions, which as I stated before we must be cautious with, but which are still important. Later period rapiers, generally, sport blades less ideal for cutting than they do thrusting. A week ago today (12 Oct. 2023) Matt Easton shared a beautiful 17th century rapier on his Youtube channel. This is a prime example of late period thrusting blades—its profile will not hold a decent edge. It was not meant to. [19] While many later period blades clearly were meant only for thrusting, it is significant that even when wider blades were in use focus was still more thrust than cut-centric.
An Argument for Looking Across Texts
One of the advantages we enjoy is access to so many period treatises. Hundreds reside on sites like Google Books or archive.org, and more and more are translated and published all the time (though not all are equal in execution). Reading the sources can be difficult, even frustrating, but it is important if we are serious about the “historical” aspect of what we study. Anyone teaching historical fencing should be doing this work. They risk leading students astray if they don’t.
Another plus to reading the texts, and to reading more than one, is that our understanding deepens. As the set of examples demonstrates here, despite the inclusion of the cut and the uses to which it might be put, the rapier was what we say it was, primarily a thrusting weapon. If we are not using this weapon as intended, and worse, if we’re teaching trusting folks to use the rapier improperly, then we’re not teaching historical fencing. Least we are not teaching it well. Instructors owe it to their students to do the hard work and represent what the treatises impart to the best of their ability.
As for the cut in rapier, yes, it existed, but as these examples reveal the cut was, normally, secondary to the thrust. If in one’s bouts there are more cuts than thrusts, it might be worth pausing to examine that. Textual support for it is thin, and as historical fencing—supposedly—looks to the extant works on the subject, that might be cause for concern.
NOTES:
[1] Among the many karmic burdens it seems my lot to carry (and inflict on others on this page) is the perennial issue of failure to appreciate that there’s a difference between making a touch and making a touch without being hit. I have no idea why this is such a tough point, but there it is.
[2] See especially the useful comparison chart in Ken Mondschein’s Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, New York, NY; Italica Press, 2009, 120-127.
[3] I had the pleasure to handle a period 1796 light cavalry sabre a few years back. What struck me immediately, so used to modern trainers and clubs like the Ames 1865 sabre, was how flimsy the blade felt. It was wide—an important fact—but thin by modern standards. It was also far more flexible than I had anticipated. It was easy to appreciate just how nasty one of these would be to face or be struck by. NB: our trainers today are made to last, and, with the expectation of far more edge-to-edge contact than most used in period. A “thin” 1796 would not hold up well to modern bouting, but used against the woolen jackets and leather shakos of retreating infantry, they no doubt did just fine.
[4] Mondschein, Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, 17; p. 26 of 158 in the pdf from archive.org, Agrippa, Trattato di scientia d’arme: con vn dialogo di filosofia, 1553, Prima Parte, Ch. 4.
[5] Mondschein, Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, 44; p. 62 of 158 in the pdf from archive.org, Agrippa, Trattato di scientia d’arme: con vn dialogo di filosofia, 1553, Prima Parte, Ch. 20.
[6-8] Tom Leoni, Venetian Rapier, The School, or Salle, Nicoletto Giganti’s 1606 Rapier Fencing Curriculum, Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2010, p. 5; pl. 12 on p. 19; and pl. 14 on p. 21.
[9] Leoni, Venetian Rapier, plates 25 and 26 on pages 36 and 37 respectively.
[10] Tom Leoni, Ridolfo Capoferro’s The Art and Practice of Fencing, Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2011, 18; in the pdf. available via Google Books, Ridolfo Capo Ferro, Gran Simulacro dell’Arte e dell’Uso della Scherma, 1610, 23. Capo Ferro remarks, in the next section, 117, that the cut is useful from the saddle.
[11] Tom Leoni, Ridolfo Capoferro’s The Art and Practice of Fencing, 86; Capo Ferro, Gran Simulacro dell’Arte, 126.
[13] See Leoni’s Alfieri, Part 1, Ch. 5; or p. 92-93 in the pdf. For his definition of stoccata, see Leoni, Venetian Rapier, 57.
[14] Ibid.
[15] Francesco Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019, 181; this passage may be found in Part I, Book II, Ch. XXII, p. 121ff in the pdf.
[16] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, 185; this passage may be found in Part I, Book II, Ch. XXII, p. 126ff in the pdf.
[17] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, 186-187; 127 in the pdf.
[18] See A.V.B. Norman, The Rapier and the Smalls-Sword 1460-1820, Reprint, Ken Trotman Publishing, 2019,19ff; Ewart Oakeshott, European Weapons and Armour: From the Renaissance to the Industrial Revolution, Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press, 2000, 136ff; see also Eric Valentine, Rapiers, Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1968.
Direct thrust, sword alone, Part I, Bk. II, Ch. VI
On occasion someone will share a video or the like with me and I’m reminded just how difficult it is interpreting historical fencing treatises. In the last few days I’ve had a chance to chat with a few other instructors about a popular interpretation of Saviolo’s system as well as a new video purportedly covering Marcelli. [1] There were many threads in our discussion, but the thing that kept sticking in mind was the Marcelli video. I spend a good part of my week on that master’s text, Rules of Fencing (1686), and despite the qualifications of the instructor sharing that video I saw several things that stood out to me as features of more recent fencing versus what Marcelli taught.
As a caveat, I have a lot of respect for Maestro and Maestra Coblentz, and the student in the video, Justin, clearly has solid training, but I take a different view on Marcelli and think it’s important enough to share. Naturally, if there is something I’ve missed or concluded incorrectly, I invite them to chat and demonstrate how I’ve erred. It’s never my intention with posts like this to attack anyone personally—that sort of thing is nonsensical, unnecessary, and unhelpful. However, as someone who focuses closely on Neapolitan rapier and teaches it, I feel obligated to point out a few things in the video that don’t seem to match what Marcelli taught.
To be clear: what I am evaluating are aspects of their interpretation based on a close reading of the text, both as a fencer and someone trained to read historical texts. Anyone who shares an interpretation is opening the field to evaluation, but there is also a condition on the critic (in this case me) too—they should be fair, back up any criticism, and stay on topic. In what follows I will cover only a few things that stood out to me, because they are critical to understanding Marcelli’s system, and attempt to demonstrate these conclusions with textual support.
Lunge vs. Annervated Lunge
Some months ago I had a post on this stoccata annervata as it’s foreign to most people and difficult to adopt if one is used to the better known lunge. [2] It is not a lunge the way we normally conceive of it. This annervated lunge is used only with rapier and dagger—one doesn’t use it when fencing with rapier alone. The genius of it is that it allows one to extend the point while still maintaining defense, something the longer lunge does not do as well with the pairing of rapier and dagger. The annervated lunge is less a lunge than it is an unwinding—the weapon and arm are propelled by unwinding the torso, not by pushing off the back leg (something Maestro Coblentz makes clear in the video). This is how Chris Holzman and Patrick Bratton explained it to me too when I first started working on the Neapolitan school a few years ago.
If one has fought with rapier and dagger, and importantly with the mindset that one cannot be hit, then the value of that pairing should be not only be obvious, but also attractive. It layers defense and makes an attack all the more dangerous. It is, as my fellow rapier enthusiast Ken Jay remarks frequently, a game-changer. In order for the pair to work one cannot stand in guard as one does sword alone: a dagger, buckler, cloak, etc. does little good if it’s behind us. Thus, the body is more square to the front—we can face someone head on because the dagger is there to aid defense. To lunge out with the trunk still squared would be both short and easy to see, so the solution, a brilliant one, is to twist the body back toward profile and shoot the blade and arm out to target. One can thus reach a little farther but with minimal exposure.
Key to this is the front leg: it remains straight. Unlike the lunge most people know, where the knee is over the heel, calf perpendicular to the ground upon completion, the annervated lunge makes a short step and lands leg straight. Proper use of measure is what determines when to make the lunge, and it is a different measure than when lunging in profile. It’s not an annervated lunge if one is landing as one does today.
In the video, the offhand and dagger are swung dramatically back as the Maestro Coblentz and his student, Julian, lunge. On the surface this appears very much like the image in Bk I, Part II, Ch. V, p. 15, figure 4:
However, what Marcelli explains about this image reveals important information for the feet:
All the movements that I have proposed to be made in performing the thrust are seen marked with the numbers in the present illustration. The number 1 signifies that the aforesaid Cavaliere has started the sword hand first. The number 2, marked near the left knee, denotes that after having brought the hand forward he has violently extended that knee, which was bent. The number 3 that stands at the right foot indicates that it was the third movement of the body, and that after having advanced the hand and extended the knee he has advanced the foot, which is the last movement, because it has to do the least travel of all.
Tutti i moti, che hò proposto da farsi nel tirar la Stoccata, si veggono segnati co’i numeri nella presente figura; dove il nu. 1 significa, che il sopradetto Caval. hà partito prima la mano della spada. Il num. 2., segnato vicino il ginocchio sinistro, dinota, che doppo haver anticipate la mano, hà disteso con violenza quel ginocchio, che stave piegato. Il num. 3., che stà nel pie destro, signitica, che quello e stato il terzo moto del corpo; e doppo haver caminato la mano, & annervato il ginocchio, ha caminato il piede, il quale e l’ultimo moto, perche hà da far camino meno di tutti.[3]
Note that number 3 in the image does not pertain to the dagger, but to the right leg:
number 3 that stands at the right foot indicates that it was the third movement of the body, and that after having advanced the hand and extended the knee he has advanced the foot, which is the last movement, because it has to do the least travel of all.
How does one reconcile this information with the image? One option, and presumably what Maestro Coblentz has concluded, is that since the dagger is shown to the rear in the image, one should do the same upon the lunge. For reasons I have shared ad nauseum on this site I am cautious with images—they can be helpful, but must always be read against the text. Nothing in this passage suggests one should remove the dagger to a position where it can do little good, and if one lunges along more modern lines that is what happens—the dagger is too far back to be of any real use. In the annervated version, however, because it’s shorter, the dagger is easier to bring back into play should it be needed. [4] As shown in the video, the dagger arm is doing the right thing, but the feet are not.
Mezzaluna & Dagger Placement
In similar vein, Marcelli was clear on his expectations for the dagger while on guard. He writes
In all these methods of standing on guard it must be advised to keep the dagger strongly closed in the hand…the dagger arm must stand strong, extended, and annervated, because it must use force and not lightness in defending from all blows that are violently performed by the opponent.
In tutti cotesti Modi di stare in Guardia si deve avvertire à tenere fortemente stretto il pugnale in mano…mà il braccio del pugnale deve start forte, disteso, & annervato, perche deve usar forza, e non leggierezza, nel difendersi da tutti i colpi, che violentemente li sono tirarti dal nemico. [5]
We see this with all four guards, but especially the one I believe they are trying to use in the video, mezzaluna.
Marcelli says that the guard of mezzaluna (fig. 1 in the image below) has one
Extending the foot forward along the straight line meeting the rear foot, and bending the left knee, with the torso counterweighted on this foot, keeping the right knee extended, the right foot metting the opponent, and the rear foot oblique… the sword arm is withdrawn to the rear, with the hand near the pocket. He carries his dagger forward covering all the upper parts in such a way that the opponent only sees the chest below the dagger as target to strike. He cannot wound him in another part than this, and therefore it is called the guard below the weapons.
cioè, stendendo il piede avanti per linea retta incontro al piè di dietro, e piegando il ginocchio sinistro con la vita contrapesata sù questo piede, mantiene il ginocchio destroy disteso, il piè dritto incontro al nemico, e’l pie di dietro per traverso; e ritirando il braccio della Spada a dietro, con la mano vicino la saccoccia, hà portato il Pugnale avanti, coprendosi tutte le parti superiori, di modo che il nemico vedesolo per bersaglio da colpire il petto per le parti do sotto il Pugnale, nè può ferire in altra parte che in questa, e percio si chima Guardia sotto l’armi.[6]
Here, as with the image before, we have a discrepancy between the image and what Marcelli says of it:
Fig 1 is in First Guard/Mezzaluna
In the image, Figure 1 has a clear gap between the weapons in direct contradiction of what Marcelli describes in the passage explaining it. Recall that
He carries his dagger forward covering all the upper parts in such a way that the opponent only sees the chest below the dagger as target to strike. He cannot wound him in another part than this.
Marcelli makes it clear that there is no middle passage to the chest. One can only attack in the low line.
For corroborating evidence we have the testimony of another Neapolitan master, Nicola Terracusa e Ventura, who in True Neapolitan Fencing (1725) claims that this guard is called “half moon” because the tips of the weapons form that shape, that is, are in contact. [7] If both masters are adamant that one can only attack below it, then there cannot be a gap between the sword and dagger. That would open a line in addition to the low line.
Closing the Line: Lesson and Reality
In one portion of the lesson (1:32), Maestro Coblentz has Justin hit him, again with a normal lunge, and then extends to hit him indicating that the student had left the line open. As set up, it’s true that Justin is open because he’s still in the lunge, however nothing, so far I can tell, cued Justin to know that an after-blow was likely. So far as I can tell the master has instructed the student to strike without the expectation that the instructor will parry or counter.
It’s important to note that there are many times, most even, when the instructor allows the student to hit them; in most ways the instructor is a willing target. But throwing a counter or after-blow into the mix is not normally something one does without some cue that it could happen. Ostensibly the maestro is reminding the student to close the line, but in this instance the student is slightly out of measure—they’re not wearing masks—and was told to lunge to target. It’s an occasion for potential confusion—is the student working an aspect of the lunge, doing so but with additional attention to the line, or both? This is to say that when teaching a student a new action, especially something as unusual as the annervated lunge, we tend to break it down into parts to make it easier to learn. Justin’s lunge (though not annervated) was solid and he struck target with his arm in the right place, so punishing him for that again can confuse things.
The solution they devise is to have the student drop the hand upon extending. Not only does this slow the thrust, but it opens the student up to a counter-attack to the arm. This addition would also be unnecessary if the lunge was properly annervated. Focus in most rapier and smallsword texts is on the torso as target, but the arm is a perfectly good target, often easier to hit, and a true liability if disabled. Lowering his arm in this fashion is dangerous. Again, this solution only works if one is using the modern lunge—annervated, one is not in as deep, and with the dagger more easily brought into play (since this lunge is shorter), it’s there to intercept any counter to the inside line by recovery into guard, the rapier there to defend the outside line.
To be fair the audio is not great in the video—it’s hard to hear Maestro Coblentz and there is at least one additional pair talking. It is entirely possible I missed something that would explain this. If the master didn’t provide some cue, then it makes little sense to punish the student when in fact they’ve performed the task they were asked to do correctly. If the student extends first, and their arm is in the right place, their measure good, then more than likely they have control of the line; adding an after blow introduces another layer of complexity that this drill didn’t seem to require.
We spend considerable time on the direct lunge. Marcelli himself says that there is no more important, or difficult, attack that the stoccata dritta. Moreover, he says
I certainly know that the parries are none other than direct thrusts performed either in the same tempo that it is parried, or ripostes to the opponent with it after having parried the blow. [8]
In other words, if the student knows how to attack properly, then they are already working on closing the line. Sure, they must defend against an after-blow, but this is a separate issue. Assuming the student made a good attack, from good measure, then they should be able to recover in such a way to avoid an after-blow. This is all the more true, and easier to do, with rapier and dagger. Regardless, it’s critical to set expectations and then stick within the parameters of them.
Conclusion
We all of us apply what we know to help us make sense of things we do not know. Knowledge and experience of the modern lunge aids us in understanding different versions, even older versions of the same action, but we must be cautious and pay careful attention to the differences. We must approach illustrations with the same diligence—taken alone they mislead us. It is often safer to go with what a master said over what the artist depicted (unless they were one in the same person). The artist may not have been a fencer, may not have been particularly skilled (just inexpensive), or may have been lazy, tired, or distracted. In the examples above, what Marcelli says and what his plates show do not match up 100%, so we have to make our best guess. That guess is going to be far better when we step back and compare what we know against what a text is actually saying.
Context is everything. Marcelli’s environment was very different from our own. We never fence in earnest, and so we are not conditioned to think the way one must when fighting with sharp swords. Even in a program as venerable as that which Sonoma represents, there is a mindset more akin to the sport than the dueling field. The longer, modern lunge puts one in far more danger against rapier and dagger than does the annervated version; this is why Marcelli advocated it. One can lunge as one normally does with rapier alone, but this too makes sense—we have no offhand weapon; we’re more in profile, and lunging this way keeps more of us behind the point and guard.
As a fan of the Neapolitan school, a tradition less popular than the earlier masters like Capo Ferro or those popular in “HEMA” and the SCA, such as Giganti, I’m thrilled to see others working on Marcelli. To have well-trained maestri working on it is a plus too–the Masters Coblentz, Maestro Francesco Loda, not to mention other well-respected researchers, help us bring what we read to life. We may not always agree on how to interpret something, but all of us are best guided by the text, however odd it may seem to us, and opportunities like the video discussed here help us push our collective understanding and with luck to better interpretations. [9]
NOTES:
[1] I’ve not seen the book, but a friend has a copy and we discussed the nomenclature, source, and other influences in the 1595 curriculum.
For the Marcelli video, see Maestro David Coblentz’ post https://youtu.be/jHZ3ynCAwVQ. The maestros Coblentz, David and Dori, are well-respected graduates of the Sonoma program and part of the team behind RASP (Rapier and Sabre Pedagogy), held in Georgia, USA.
[3] Francesco Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Trans. by Christopher A. Holzman (Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019); for this passage, Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Part II, Bk I, Ch. V, p. 15, fig. 4; Holzman, 288. See also Francesco Loda, Historical Fencing Manual: Rapier-Fencing in the 17th and 18th Centuries (Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2019).
[4] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Part II, Bk. I, Ch. V, 14; Holzman, 287:
The body, turned well in profile, must keep the dagger arm to the rear and the sword, advanced with lightness, must be squeezed in termination, and stopped in the right angle in the opponent’s chest.
Il corpo, voltato bene in profile, deve mantenere il braccio del pugnale à dietro; e la spada, caminata con leggierezza, si deve stringer nella termination fermata in angolo retto in petto al bersaglio.
[5] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Part II, Bk. I, Ch. IV, 10; Holzman, 281.
[6] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Part II, Bk I, Ch. III, p. 4, fig a.; Holzman, 273.
[7] Ibid, n. 113. See also Nicola Terracuse e Ventura, True Neapolitan Fencing, 1725, Trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2017, 70.
[8] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Part I, Bk II, Ch. VI, p. 75; Holzman, 104.
[9] The annervated lunge is weird. It’s taken me a long time to warm up to it, and, only after a lot of awkward drilling. To someone well-versed in the modern lunge, that odd step onto the straight front leg seems like it will be jarring and unsteady. It was for me, initially, until wiser heads reminded me that the movement is driven by the torso, by unwinding, and that the step is short.
A comparative look at Italian rapier texts will reveal how Francesco Marcelli’s prima differs from the guard of first advocated by most other masters. First is an iconic guard/parry, and dramatic in most depictions. We see it, amongst many works, in:
Camillo Agrippa, ca. 1553 (born Milan, active in Rome)
Fabris, 1606 (Padua, Denmark)
Giganti, 1606 (born Fossombrone, central Italy, active in Venice)
Capo Ferro, 1610 (born Cagli, central Italy; active in Seina, Tuscanny)
Alfieri 1640, (Padua, under Venetian power)
Pallavicini (1670, Sicily)
Alfieri, “Prima,” 1640 (figure 2)
I asked Christopher Holzman, who translated Marcelli into English, why Marcelli’s prima is effected so differently, and he suggested that the master’s choice of “prima” as the term for his preferred guard likely reflects its importance. That’s certainly plausible. It stands out against the choice of other Neapolitan masters, especially Pallavicini. This master, who was not one to miss a chance to take shot at his rivals, complains about modern masters breaking tradition. Though he appears to have respected the elder Marcelli, he didn’t think much of some of his later students. He seems especially to have had it in for Francisco Antonio Mattei (author of Della Scherma Napoletana, 1669). Mattei, like Giuseppe Villardita (1670), was a student of Mattei’s older brother, Giovanni, who was taught by the elder Marcelli, Giovanni Battista. [1] Set side by side, the works by both Mattei and Villardita pale in comparison to those by Pallavicini and Marcelli—they’re not particularly eloquent, well-organized, or as comprehensive. It’s possible that Francesco Marcelli’s guard of first he learned from his father, but at the time of this post I’ve not yet discovered whether that is so or not.
Parry of Prime
Setting aside the questions of origin and development, for the instructor teaching Neapolitan rapier there are some considerations to manage prior to the lesson. Prima, as Marcelli presents it, reads and functions much differently than the prima/prime of more recent schools. Anyone trained in foil in the late 20th century, for example, likely learned either the French or Italian parries for first. The French school’s parry, in the United States, is probably better known, but the Italian is as venerable. Neither of these assists one in understanding, using, or teaching Marcelli’s version. [2] If the instructor is familiar with smallsword treatises, then they may know the two key versions found within that corpus, the earlier false-edge parry of prime and the later, true-edge parry that gave birth to the guard of the same name of the modern French school. [3]
Compared to any of these iterations the low, almost-flat third or oddball second of Marcelli’s prima seems strange. Preconceptions about what first is must thus be abandoned and The Rules of Fencing’s advice taken instead. The hand and blade are held lower than third, and too low for more recent versions of second. Marcelli provides us an illustration, but as always one must consider any image against what the author says. Of prima Marcelli writes:
Marcelli, _Rule of Fencing_, Bk 2, Ch. 2, p. 64
La Prima Guardia, la dimostra il Cavalier I. nella presente figura; & ella si fà, quando (situato sù la pianta accennata,) si porta avanti il braccio della Spada, tenendo la mano di mezza quarta; e la punta di essa, fermata in angolo retto, starà equalmente alta del pugno, che la sostiene; e tenendola così bassa, si porta sempre per sotto la lama del nemico.
In the present illustration, Cavaliere 1 shows the First Guard; it is made when (situated in the indicated stance) the sword arm is brought forward, keeping the hand in half-fourth, and the point is in the right angle, equally as high as the hand that holds it. Keeping it so low, it is always carried below the opponent’s blade. [4]
Charles Blair remarked that “Marcelli [Giovanni Battista] was known for a lightning-fast lunge: before one realized what was happening, one was hit; therefore, one could not craft a defence.” [5] Hyperbole aside, though seemingly open this guard is effective and difficult to confront, and it’s possible to launch a quick attack from it. This should not, to any student of modern epee, be all that surprising. This is essentially the guard often used in that weapon.
While knowledge of modern epee might help, rapier is different enough in weight, length, and context to change a few things. This is not to say that one can’t use modern epee technique in rapier—the SCA’s “Black Tigers” do a bang-up job of using modern fencing in this way, complete with an assumed ROW if the lack of concern about being hit is any guide. However, if one is working from the textual evidence in rapier works, it makes sense to note the parallels with today’s epee and then set them aside.
Warm-Up Drills from Prima I often start rapier lessons with stop-thrust/arrest drills. It’s a nice way to loosen up the arm, work some point-control, and practice closing the line simultaneously. Typically, I have the student in prima (or whichever guard we’re working on) and make the arrest to my arm as I make purposefully poor attacks. [6] I start these from various guards and attack in different lines. We start slow, but the purpose is to increase the pace so that we end up in situations the student might face in a bout at speed. They will encounter fencers who attack poorly as well as those who attack properly, and must be prepared for both.
A second warm-up drill is simple parry-riposte. In this case, however, I leave out the purposeful mistakes and increase the difficulty as we proceed. For example, student is in prima; I’m in terza or third. First, I may make a direct thrust to the inside line; the student, from prima, parries in quarta or fourth and ripostes with opposition. Depending on the student, this takes two forms; with my advanced students, for example, they work this as both a one-tempo action and as a two-tempi action, meaning that in the first instance the parry and riposte are simultaneous, in the second the parry and riposte are distinct, sequential actions.
Lessons with Prima
Marcelli, like many masters of his time, breaks some maneuvers into those made with a firm-foot and those made advancing. I use this distinction as well to organize the lesson. For example, firm-footed, I may have the student work on gaining the blade from a specific starting position. Marcelli, in Ch. VII of Part One, Book II, cautions us wisely on the dangers of seeking to gain the blade—if done poorly the opponent will see it and disengage to strike in tempo. Working this action from different distances helps a student learn to make taking the blade effectively and with less danger to themselves as they do so—were we only to practice this in measure the student would have less success outside that specific distance (which is, after all, somewhat relative to the opponent).
From prima, which is below the opponent’s blade, engagements or gaining the blade take, initially at least, specific forms. It is a fantastic guard to adopt against an opponent interested in gaining the blade too—the arm is withdrawn so the point is less easy to defy and secure. Offensively, however, it is fantastic. I usually have the student keep the blade still part of the time, then shift it from guard, constantly shifting aim both to increase the difficulty it taking their blade and to keep the opponent (in this case me) guessing. It is not difficult to effect engagements, beats, or feints from prima. As Marcelli commented, one is well situated:
La Prima Guardia è più secura dell’altre due; e si rende padrona della propria spada più di quello, che sà la Seconda, e la Terza. Poiche in essa, tenendosi il braccio dritto dolce, e curuato, si mantinene anco ritirata la punta, che non stia molto soggetta alla discrettione del nemico. E da questa situatione ancora nascono molto veloci le stoccate, per lo spirito, che naturalemente si prende da quella incuruatura del braccio, il quale, à guise d’un arco, scocca con violenza nel partire.
The First Guard is more secure than the other two, and makes him master of the his sword more than that which the Second and Third do. Since in it, keeping the right arm soft and bent, it also keeps the point withdrawn so that it would not be very subjected to the opponent’s discretion. The thrusts also occur very quickly from this situation, due to the spirit that is naturally taken from the curvature of the arm, which like a bow, lets fly with violence in the beginning. [7]
Prima is also useful for helping students ensure that they are moving everything in the proper sequence. For example, if making the finta scorsa, the advancing feint, the student must be careful to minimize the danger to themselves. Marcelli, unlike some of his contemporaries, remarks that one should feint a thrust to thrust, a cut to cut, versus a cut to thrust or thrust to cut. The actions are larger and more prone to counters.
In essence, the student is making an advance-lunge and performing a half-thrust on the advance in coordination with the front foot. The disengage (cavazione) is made as the rear foot moves, and the action finishes with the completion of the extension as one lunges. Importantly, the student must then break measure, moving the head and body first and staying secure behind the weapon, which retracts last. To increase the difficulty, I will sometimes defend, sometimes not, so the student must stay on their game and be vigilant. Normally we change roles as well so that the student can practice the counter to the finta scorsa.
Sample Lesson Plan:
Warm up: S, from prima: arrests to arm as I. (Instructor) attacks from various lines/guards Parry riposte: simultaneous, two tempi
Lesson: ●Direct thrust from prima ●Direct thrust from prima parried by I., counter parry-riposte from S.
●Firm-footed, feint direct to inside line; I. parries 4th, S disengages ●Firm-footed, feint direct to inside line; I. parries 4th, S disengages, I. parries and ripostes, S. counter-parries and ripostes
●Finta Scorsa, feint direct to inside line; I. parries 4th, S disengages ●Finta Scorsa, feint direct to inside line; I. parries 4th, S disengages, I. parries and ripostes, S. counter-parries and ripostes
*I. alters guard, S. feints to a different line **switch roles
Cool Down: ●Three point bout (I. sets up situations for S. to work, in real-time, the material of the day) ●Arrest drill or Parry-riposte to close
Prima, Seconda, Terza, Quarta
While keen to share some thoughts on Marcelli’s prima, the process described will work for any of his guards, and indeed, those he advocates when rapier is paired with dagger. The more a student works the actions found within the text, and faces them from various positions, the more robust their game will prove. We are fortunate that the Rules of Fencing is as well-written and clear as it is—I have found it to be a thorough and exciting font of knowledge, as full of technical brilliance as tactical sense. Moreover, spending so much time on this text has made the others in the Neapolitan orbit clearer. Next to Marcelli I like Pallavicini’s work best, but I have found it more opaque in sections; similarities with Marcelli do not necessarily explain those sections in Pallavicini, but they can provide a more solid starting place to attempt to unravel them.
NOTES:
[1] See Charles Blair, “The Neapolitan School of Fencing: Its Origins and Early Characteristics,” in Acta Periodica Duellatorum 2: 1 (2015): 9-26 [published online 2015 and available at ADP, https://bop.unibe.ch/apd/issue/view/1082]; see especially pages 9-10. See also the brief history by Chris Holzman in his translation of Marcelli’s Rules of Fencing, xi-xiv (similar coverage can be found in his translations of both Pallavicini and Terracusa e Ventura). Blair’s article provides a solid overview, but for guards he focuses on rapier and dagger versus those used for sword alone.
[2] The images explain it better than I probably can, but French prime sweeps from outside to inside, hand about temple height; Italian prima in Del Frate is much the same, but we see a different parry in some works, mezzocerchio, which is sort of quarta with the blade tip dropped, somewhat akin to French septime.
Parise, mezzocerchio, 1904
[3] As smallsword transformed into foil play, a game all its own, the necessity for the false edge parry of first, which helped keep one farther away from the incoming steel and which set up the offhand parry well, gave way to the faster prime with the true edge. The latter is an all or nothing parry, one that should it fail to sweep the line leaves one horribly open.
[4] Cf. Marcelli, Regole della Scherma, 64; Holzman, Rules of Fencing, 88. In his note for that passage Chris explains that in “half-fourth, or 3rd in 4th position, the true edge is turned diagonally downward to the inside. What Marcelli calls First Guard, we would probably call a guard of 4th today.” I would add that later smallsword texts that have one hold the blade in fourth, but framed on the right, somewhat like modern French sixte, get close to this, the key difference being the height of the hand and direction of the point.
[5] Blair, ““The Neapolitan School of Fencing: Its Origins and Early Characteristics,” 9.
Poor Rob Childs will, I’m sure, be sad to discover that he didn’t invent the invincible thrust (exploitation of his “critical angle,” i.e. selecting an open spot and hitting it from the right distance and at the right time…). But, hey, he still has his jump-lunge (oops, no…, that’s a balestra), and his “vertical” and “horizontal” (dang, no, those words first appear in English in the 16th century). Well… he still has is hand-puppet distractor… no, dang again, Joseph Fiennes did that best in “Shakespeare in Love” (Miramax 1998)…
Joseph Fiennes, “Shakespeare in Love,” 1998–fight scene with Wessex. Notice the fool’s marotte in the off-hand.
Good-natured teasing aside, for those interested in HEMA’s competitive side time spent with Rob’s videos will help—though he might footnote some of what he shares, the fact is that he provides the “historical” fencer with solid modern technique and ways to exploit the rule-set.
[6] Purposeful mistakes are not something I have students make with one another. That burden is on me. I don’t advocate having students working on anything that requires one of them to fence poorly on purpose. As the instructor, and as someone whose competitive days are behind him, I have less to worry about. Those actively competing or fighting should learn how to exploit mistakes, but not make them.
[7] Marcelli, Regole della Scherma, 66; Holzman, Rules of Fencing, 89.
In historical fencing we place significant weight on the concept of “realism,” here defined as fencing as accurately as we can both in the sense of treating the blade as if sharp and in attempting to fight as closely as one can to the dictates of the system we study. However, outside the lunatic fringe, we also fence as safely as possible. One of the frequent observations I’ve shared here is that our sense of safety affects how effectively we accomplish this. Without fear we are prone to make actions we might not were we fighting in earnest. Short of expensive medical bills, law suits, and jail time, however, there is only so much we can do about it. It’s daft not to wear gear—as I tell kids “eyes don’t grow back”—so we are left with cultivating a strong sense of awareness. It’s not an ideal solution, but the effort isn’t wasted. The proper mindset, and awareness of how our study is hobbled, only improves our understanding and hopefully our interpretations. This subject popped up again for me recently during a rapier lesson and got me thinking about all this in more detail.
To date, I’ve covered this in a general way, mentioning the problem and suggesting that we would do well to keep it in mind. However, a natural question is how; how is one to cultivate this sense and where? Do we think this way all the time, just with certain maneuvers, or only in certain contexts?
‘Tis but a Scratch!
King Arthur and the “Invincible” Black Knight from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” 1975
Arguably one of the more serious failures we make in historical fencing is downplaying the effect, physical and psychological, even a non-lethal wound has on a person. More than once I’ve mentioned the kitchen or craft-knife accident, but a shot to the face by a hard ball, the lacrosse stick that misses pads and jabs an arm, the toe that meets a furniture corner, and the car-door that smashes a finger all ought to remind us that even “minor” injuries can ruin our day. I’m not the only person who believes we need to remember this—just his past week Matt Easton of Schola Gladitoria posted a video that discusses a number of examples of how non-lethal wounds can affect us. [1]
Somehow, however, once we don a mask we can forget this. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard someone say “oh that was just my arm” or “meh, you only stabbed my hand,” and yet were we to have a finger smashed or an arm broken or cut-deeply I doubt we’d brush it off so casually. Having broken most of my fingers at some point, having had a near-compound fracture in my dominant arm, and having had stitches for deep wounds I know myself that sometimes one can keep going, and, sometimes one is rendered hors d’combat. I’ve fought on, twice, after having a finger smashed so badly it was bleeding, but only because I didn’t realize how bad it was. Once I did realize it I stopped fighting. I’ve also been bruised hard enough to stop a fight: I literally couldn’t hold the weapon after that hit. The context is important.
We cannot know, in many cases, how we would react in these situations, but even so we need to be mindful of the fact that even a so-called minor wound might stop a fight, incapacitate us, or freak us out enough that the fight would effectively be over. We forget this to our peril if we’re truly trying to fence as realistically as we can. While “HEMA” talks a lot about the after-blow, a shot made after one’s own that lands, we ought to be just as concerned about the incontro, the double, about being hit as we make our attack.
The Role of Teaching
Everything we teach should be in accordance with the source tradition we work in, but it also must abide the reality principle. If we are teaching anything without a concomitant concern for self-preservation, then we’re doing it the wrong way. It’s not just about making the touch, but doing so in such a way that one is not hit in the process. This will feel and present very differently than much of what we see today in historical fencing. It requires us to be more conservative, less aggressive from the off, and far more cautious.
To illustrate this I want to take a look at a few common aspects of most fencing: for offense, feints and beats; for defense the parry/riposte and attacks in tempo. Some of these I’ve mentioned before, but not in one place nor in this specific context. Regardless of consideration of technique or its application, however, we need to revisit what “don’t be hit” means as a guiding principle when making these common actions. How we teach them is everything.
Offense: Feints
Feints are what we often call “fake-outs” in colloquial American English. They are actions we make to force an opponent to move their blade out of the way so we can strike them in a specific line. They are not easy to do. On the one hand there is the technical aspect, the individual motions the fingers, hand, and arm make, the changing of lines, the false strike and real one, but on the other are the critical issues of measure and timing. When we teach feints we focus first on finding the right measure from which to start the feint—in brief, it needs to be made close enough to get the opponent to react, but just far enough out that one can change the line. Depending on the instructor the fine-tuning with this can be extremely specific. For a feint to work it must be convincing, but our sense of safety with a mask and trainer versus no mask and a sharp begs the question of whether we’d react even to a poor feint if it was close enough.
In examining two of Marcelli’s guards, mezzaluna and porto di ferro, last week, my friend Ken Jay and I realized something that might temper the specificity we normally apply to feints. [2] These guards, hallmarks of the Neapolitan School according to Terracusa e Ventura (ca. 1725), are stout positions. [3] Mezzaluna forces an opponent to the low line; porto di ferro, on the other hand, forces them to the high line. Rapier and dagger, deservedly, represent some of the best expressions of western swordplay, and these two guards, in our experience anyway, force one to pay close attention not only to distance and timing, but also to the nature of the attack: a simple attack will rarely succeed, and a compound one, while more likely to meet with success, can likewise be defeated thanks to the defense-in-depth provided by the dagger.
Ken observed, after I made a feint from slightly out of distance, that were my weapon sharp he might still have attempted to parry. This statement really got me thinking. In jackets, with masks, and armed with rebated rapiers neither of us is trying to be hit, but we’re not worried about what happens if we are either. We are not afraid.
This is a point worth long consideration—how perfect does a feint have to be if the weapon is sharp, the person wielding it keen to do us harm, and our own natural aversion to pain in play? Certainly training helps, but more so would experience. By the latter I mean having faced similar situations and having emerged from them unscathed. To do so would, with good reason, build confidence in one’s ability as well as a sense of how far out one can make a feint. However sure of oneself, a sharp point is a sharp point and so unless completely sure the prudent thing to do would be to react, in this case perhaps to take a half step back or off-line and parry, knowing that what looks like an attack might in fact be a feint or vice-versa. Would we take the chance and guess or play it safe? This is where experience and drill can make all the difference.
Beats
If one has spent time in Olympic fencing then one has likely learned a few different ways to effect beats. A beat is a sharp knock to the opposing steel using one’s weapon to deviate it from the line. Where a feint forces the opponent to open the line themselves, a beat is a way for us to force them to shift lines. In Olympic fencing, however, the concern is less over removing the steel from a specific line than it is in establishing right of way (ROW). This is a major difference, and for those of us who came up initially in the sport, it means a shift in view when using beats with period weapons. In the sport, making the beat regardless of shifting the weapon is sufficient to establish ROW—it’s symbolic.
Returning to Marcelli and rapier, facing an opponent in mezzaluna one can beat the rapier, but it’s not enough to make contact and strike. We may or may not have removed the steel: the opponent might replace it quickly after the beat; and of course they have the dagger waiting to intercept too. A beat from the retracted terza/third used in mezzaluna, against the inside line of a similarly held weapon, may move the weapon, but chances are high that one’s opponent will replace the line easily and quickly and thus negate the effort. Significantly, Marcelli touches on this issue in Part II, Book I, Ch. 12, “The Beats with the Sword” in Rules of Fencing.
I have not found a better occasion for making the beats than that, which is encountered in the Fourth Guard, in which the opponent’s point is found convenient for making this action. Although it can be practiced against all the other guards, nevertheless it is made more securely against this, or against any other that keeps the point of the sword forward. So then, he is always found ready to beat the opposing sword, with it standing forward, it stands separated from the defense of the dagger and stands more apt for this action. This cannot be done with such ease in the other, narrower and more united, guards because in those the opposing sword’s point is found defended by the dagger, and going to beat it, the opponent can easily be given the opportunity to take the Cavaliere’s sword with the dagger and would him with the time thrust.
[Occasione migliore per far le Toccate, Io non trovo di quella, che s’incontra nella Quarta Guardia, nella quale si trova commode la punta del nemico per farli questa attione; e benche contro tutte le alter Guardie si possa pratticare, con tuttociò più sicuramente si fà contro di questa, o contro di qual sivoglia altra, che tenga la pūta della spade avanti. Posciache all’hora si trova la spada nemica sempre pronta à toccarla, mentre con lo stare avanti, stà disunita dalla disesa del pugnale, e stà piu adattata per questa attione. Lo che non può farsi con tanta facilatà nelle alter Guardie più ristrettte., e piu unite, per che in quelle la punta della spada nemica so trova disesa dal pugnale, e con l’andare a toccaria, si potrebbe facilmente dar occasione al sopradetto di precarli la sua Spada co’l pugnale, e di offenderlo con li suoi Tempi.] [4]
Marcelli’s Fourth Guard (fig. 2, left) and First Guard or Mezzaluna (fig. 1, right); 274, Holzman, 204 in the pdf
Time spent working this sword (and dagger) in hand proves the wisdom in Marcelli’s caution. His Fourth guard, being more extended, is a safer bet for a beat than either mezzaluna or porto di ferro—with those, the beat may be a decent preparatory action, but on its own it’s not likely to succeed, not without one also being hit.
Marcelli goes on to explain that just as with feints, the strike must follow immediately after the beat is made. There is the danger that the opponent’s dagger will intercept, so any delay only increases the chances the beat-attack will fail. The beat may disorient, but that is not enough—it must clear the line sufficiently or one risks getting spiked making the attack. The most successful beats we have found were against the sword, but then delivered to the dagger hand with a shift to the side, or, followed by a feint. With the layered defense provided by rapier and dagger compound attacks are crucial. It’s not that simple attacks can’t work, but that against a skilled opponent they are harder to achieve. We have also found that beats from the outside line which drive an opponent’s rapier toward the inside line tend to work better—not only does it open the line more securely (there is no dagger), but also it’s easier to make the thrust and close-out the opposing weapon. Conversely, those beat-attacks we made on the inside to the inside were far more likely to be parried or earn us a spike as we closed the attack.
Defense:Parry/Ripostes
In teaching people to parry, we are attempting to impart to them an action which has a lot of moving pieces, all of which must work in concert, and which not only must begin at the right distance, but start at the correct time. The concept is simple—“stop the other sword”—but the execution is complex. A parry by itself might preserve one, but on its own does nothing to offend the opponent, and so we generally make a riposte afterwards. There is, in short, a lot that can go terribly wrong before one ever sets foot on the piste or in the ring.
Of all the ways to parry, simultaneous parry-ripostes, which block and strike at the same time—what Marcelli calls the “parries in tempo” (Parate in Tempo; 267pdf)—represent a sort of Platonic ideal of a parry for thrust-oriented systems. Marcelli writes:
The parries in tempo are none other than direct thrusts performed in the tempo that the opponent performs his; therefore, the method of making those must be learned well in order to then have more ease in the execution of these. In performing them, it must be advised that the parries in tempo can be made in all the guards, as much as in the guard below the weapons, as outside the weapons, inside the weapons, and in that of the sword forward.
[Le Parate in Tempo non sono altro, che Stoccate dritte tirate nel Tempo, che l’nimico tira la sua; perciò si deve imparar bene il Modo di far Quelle, per havere poi più facilità nell’esecutone di Queste. In opra delle quali si deve avertire, che in tutte le guardie si possono fare le Parate in Tempo, così neall Guardia sotto l’armi, come in quella di for a l’armi, in quella di dentro l’armi, & in quella di spade avanti.] [5]
Parries in tempo or what we might call simultaneous parry-ripostes take considerable time to learn to use effectively. The precision, sense of timing, and fortitude required demand consistent, dedicated training, and time to perfect.
Outside of thrust-oriented systems, however, we usually think of a parry as a block, an action which stops an attack by adopting a static opposing position. Weapon weight, measure, timing, and skill all affect how successful either version will be.
One of the worst mistakes we can make in teaching students how to parry and riposte is to fail to cement in their minds what a parry means. A successful parry is a sign that an attack has failed. This doesn’t mean that the defender is out of danger, but it does mean that the attacker should have one thought in their head: defense. The entire logic behind Olympic “right of way” rests on this principle. [6] Both fencers, early on, can misread this situation. The defender, having parried, may strike with zero regard for the fact the other person is still armed; the attacker, their first attempt stopped, may continue to target with no regard for the riposte screaming towards them. Both children and adults have commented to me in drill “but I hit them,” which is true, but only half-true. Yes, you hit them after or as they riposted, but was that the wisest, safest choice? No. You got hit too.
Marcelli’s Third Guard or Fianconata (left) and Porta di Ferro (right); 277 in Holzman, 208 of the pdf
The defender must do more than parry and strike—they must do so with the awareness that there is still a sharp point out there. The riposte must follow quickly lest the opponent use the extra tempo to remise, and ideally the defender will riposte as much as possible in such a way that a smart attacker will not try to take tempo, but parry in turn. The attacker, on the other hand, having been parried, should realize the attack failed and immediately go on defense. Sure, there are times the defender’s response is slow and a remise an option, but here too one must do what one can to renew that attack safely and cover.
Attacks in Tempo/Counter-Attacks
As mentioned just above, attacks made in tempo against an attack, versus a defensive response, are often an option, but they are dangerous to make. Fencers with an excellent sense of timing—which can be improved dramatically via drill—can avail themselves of this option with more success, but what holds for the less skilled holds for them too: they must consider their own safety in making such an attack.
The standard stop-cut drill in sabre is a good model for this. Ditto arrest drills in epee. In sabre, the instructor attacks poorly, usually in three main ways: cutting to the inside exposing the inside forearm; cutting the outside exposing the outside forearm; cutting to the head with a bent arm exposing the bottom of the forearm. The student makes a counter attack in tempo, either making a cut or an arrest to each of the exposed targets, as they step back, then parries the blow as it terminates in that line, and ripostes. Here, the student employs counter-offense, a blow in tempo, but also covers in case the attempt fails.
Cultivating Caution
None of what I’ve shared here means much unless one’s goals are to fence as “realistically” as possible. Any set of competition rules, by definition, has to make allowances for deviation from realism if for no other reason that the challenge of effective judging, and it’s competition, a game, so that is okay. One should be forthright about it, own that fact, but assuming one realizes the limitations, fine. In teaching, however, in drill, in all we do as learners we need to cultivate a proper sense of caution and do what we can within a given system to avoid being hit. To own the truth, being hit is historical too—sword combat crippled a lot of people and put a lot of people in the ground—but unless one is keen to emulate that, it’s probably wise to consider how our training, in every sense, supports or undermines the guiding principle of “don’t be hit.”
NOTES:
[1] Cf. Matt Easton, “How do you incapacitate someone with a sword?!” 18 March 2022, https://youtu.be/zqADQyPBZmw]
[2]NB: while beats can be made against these guards, they are far less susceptible to beats than say when facing sword alone or against Marcelli’s Fourth Guard with rapier and dagger.
[3] See Nicola Terracusa e Ventura, True Neapolitan Fencing, 1725, trans. Christopher A. Holzman (Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2017), 70. Google Books, p 66 of La vera scherma napolitana rinovata dal signor Nicola Terracusa, e Ventura, Parte II, Ch. III, “Del modo di tirare le stoccate, e delle tre guardie,” or page 68 in the pdf after download. Link: https://books.google.com/books?id=PYcpqbY0e2sC&pg=PA63#v=onepage&q&f=false
[4] Part II, Book I, Ch. 12, “The Beats with the Sword” in Francesco Antonio Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman (Witchita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019), 313; the pdf available on Google Books is p. 29 of Parte Seconda, Libro Primo Cap. XII online, but p. 231 of the pdf after download. Link: https://books.google.com/books?id=yOVEAQAAMAAJ&pg=PP1#v=onepage&q&f=false
[5] Part II, Book 2, Ch. 2, “Method of Making the Parries in Tempo,” Rules of Fencing, trans. Holzman, 369; Google Books p. 65 of Libro Secondo Cap. II, or p. 267 in the pdf after download.
Of note, Marcelli explains earlier in his work that he does not advocate moving anything other than the weapon and arm that wields it to parry. The fencer should stand firm, in guard, and use timing, a solid guard position, and just enough movement to block or deviate the incoming attack. [Part I, Book I, CH. XIII, p. 53ff in Holzman]. In many systems, including among many Italian masters later, the feet are often the first to move, even if a short half-step back. Given a weapon of the weight and length used in Marcelli’s period, however, there is less necessity for using the feet as one does in modern foil or late period sabre.
[6] My go-to example of this is the riposte to the flank delivered by lunge after parrying 5th in sabre. Students young and old have shared concern over the Damoclesian sword poised above them as they riposte. It’s an excellent observation. This said, while one can side step to the inside line if they so choose as they deliver the riposte, the initial attacker should be more worried about that riposte than in dropping their blade to bonk the opponent on the head. The blow was stopped, its energy is spent, so an extended arm grasping a sabre that can do nothing but drop is a poor trade for that fully developed riposte heading for their ribs.
One of the hallmarks of the Roman-Neapolitan school of fencing is the stoccata annervata or annervated thrust. A fencer today examining the illustrations in Marcelli or Pallavicini’s works may find this particular action odd as it looks so stiff and awkward in comparison to the bent-leg lunge of today (a.k.a. a stoccata if to the inside line, imbroccata if to the outside line/outside the arm).Wiser and more-knowledgeable heads than mine have explored this variety of the lungish attack far better than I can. [1] Thus, while I cannot add much to their conclusions I must, like anyone else wrestling with a source, figure out how to perform this maneuver and teach it. What follows is my working interpretation at present, and I share it less because I’m convinced I’m correct than because it illustrates another example of a fencer working closely from a source.
The translation I rely on is Christopher A. Holzman’s–his is the first translation into English and perhaps one of his greatest contributions to the historical fencing community. This is not to denigrate in any way his Del Frate or other offerings, but to say that Marcelli’s Rules of Fencing (1686) is easily one of the finest works on fencing ever written. It’s value extends beyond the weapons he covers (chiefly rapier and associated side-arms)–for his coverage and explanation of universal principles alone Marcelli is a must-have source. Much as I hate the parlor-game question–“if you were on a desert island and had only one X, what would it be?”–I can answer it for works on fencing: it would be Rules of Fencing. [2]
My academic training urges me to find the best translations I can, but never to forget the original source. Thus, while I rely on Chris’s excellent Marcelli, when it comes down to anything I must investigate closely I make sure to read the Italian next to it. I provide the original Italian after quotations in English below. Note: I am not fluent in Italian. I have only a functional get-the-gist-of-it ability and only for things like fencing or ancient and medieval history. Wine-lists, menus, Dante, yeah, can’t read those (yet). Like many historians working in early European topics I must have a working command of some languages in order to identify if not read key secondary works in languages other than my own. [3]
Here, I will share some key passages for the annervated thrust, then share how I’m reading them and why.
Pallavicini (1670/1673):
Giuseppe Moriscato Pallavicini, in his Fencing Illustrated (2 vols., 1670 and 1673), provides useful depictions of this annervated attack:
Pallavicini, _Fencing Illustr._, Vol. 2, p. 2
The explanation Pallavicini offers for the first illustration (p. 2) explains how one launches the attack:
The present figure shows the visual line with the assigned letter A, so, at the point of standing in stance, the the first thing is of the right arm going out, then tensing the left knee (which is bent) and in tensing it, extending it, the right foot is made to advance on the ground performing the thrust in 3rd.
[Figura mostra la linea visuale per la lettera assegnata, A, al punto cosí standon in piāta, la prima cosa e d’uscire primo il braccio destro, è doppo annervare il ginoccho sinistro, in cui stando curvo, & in annervandolo disteso, fà avanzare il piede destro in terra, e tirando la stoccata di terza…] [4]
We see a similar completed attack on page 7 where the author describes the drill of thrusting against a hanging ball:
Pallavicini, _Fencing Illustr._. Vol. 2, page 7
For the sake of comparison, here is the same maneuver from another contemporary master, Giuseppe Villardita, author of A Compendium of Sicilian Fencing/La Scherma Siciliana ridotta in Compendio (1670):
Villardita, _A Compendium of Sicilian Fencing_, 1670, 28-29
Franceso Marcelli (1686):
While other works within the Roman-Neapolitan orbit I find useful for context I focus mostly on Rules of Fencing/Regole della Scherma (1686). Like others within this tradition Marcelli employs an annverated attack, but importantly spends as much time or more on a version of the lunge ancestral to the modern iteration.
Marcelli, _Rules of Fencing_, Bk I, Part II, Ch. V,, p. 15, fig. 4
Accompanying this image Marcelli writes:
All the movements that I have proposed to be made in performing the thrust are seen marked with the numbers in the present illustration. The number 1 signifies that the aforesaid Cavaliere has started the sword hand first. The number 2, marked near the left knee, denotes that after having brought the hand forward he has violently extended that knee, which was bent. The number 3 that stands at the right foot indicates that it was the third movement of the body, and that after having advanced the hand and extended the knee he has advanced the foot, which is the last movement, because it has to do the least travel of all.
[Tutti i moti, che hò proposto da farsi nel tirar la Stoccata, si veggono segnati co’i numeri nella presente figura; dove il nu. 1 significa, che il sopradetto Caval. hà partito prima la mano della spada. Il num. 2., segnato vicino il ginocchio sinistro, dinota, che doppo haver anticipate la mano, hà disteso con violenza quel ginocchio, che stave piegato. Il num. 3., che stà nel pie destro, signitica, che quello e stato il terzo moto del corpo; e doppo haver caminato la mano, & annervato il ginocchio, ha caminato il piede, il quale e l’ultimo moto, perche hà da far camino meno di tutti.] [5]
Interpretation:
Standing “heroically,” Hugh Laurie as the Prince Regent in “Blackadder the Third,” Episode 4, “Sense & Senility,”1987
Looked at alone these images, as useful as they are, can be misleading. Taken literally one is likely to jam the knee, slip, or split one’s pants. No matter how well rendered we must be cautious with images. We must read them with any accompanying text, and, consider how the fencer gets to this position. Put another way, what does the guard position one is in prior to launching the attack look like? Placed side by side what can we deduce about moving from guard to annervated thrust?
Here is one example from Pallavicini, Vol. 1, for the guard position:
The guard position is back-weighted, body upright, rear arm up and out of the way (if unarmed), front foot toward the opponent, and weapon directed to target. The rear shoulder, so Marcelli remarks, should be over the bent rear knee. The weapon hand should be about belt high (cf. Marcelli, CH, 83ff).
Critical to understanding this style of attack is how one most easily shifts from this rear-weighted guard position to the annervated thrust. As Marcelli states the right or lead foot doesn’t move very far, and both Pallavicini and Marcelli are explicit about the speed and force used in snapping the left or rear leg into an extended position forcing the right foot forward.
This is less a lunge per se than a quick step made by shifting weight from the rear leg to the front. It is shorter than than lunge as we know it, and must be because landing straight-legged on the front foot is not something comfortable or safe to do if the step is too long. The Roman-Neapolitan masters took time to explain just how far one should stand in guard.
Pallavicini, for example, explains
In order to know how large the man’s stance must be, the proper distance is a third part of the man’s height, counting from the left heel to the narrowest part of the right foot, as my Figure shows, marked with a straight line from the point of the left heel where the right foot is placed over the same line, since it shows a distance of three and a half palmi [approx./ 8.5-10 inches/20-25cm], in which the man comes to stand more comfortably in the proper proportion of the stance. Since this Figure stands with the point of the sword in the ground, I have made it easier for the student to know how to find the proper length of the stance, which is made by bending the left knee, and advancing the right foot on the straight line. In order to know how much the right foot must be advanced, the sword point is placed on the ground, and keeping the left knee bent, and the right knee extended, the body stays in the center, as my Figure shows, and the right foot must advance as much as needed to touch the sword point.
[e così per sapere la quantità quanto l’huomo deve star largo di passo, la guista distanza è la terza parte dell’altezza dell’huomo, numerando dalla punta del Tallone sinistro per insino alla legatura del piede destro, come mostra la mia Figura segnata con la linea retta, della punta del tallone sinistro dove posa il piede destro sopra la medesima linea retta benche mostra la distanza delli tre palmi e mezzo, nella quale l’huomo viene à stare più commodamente nella giusta proportione della pianta, e benche stia questa Figura con la punta della Spade in terra, l’hò satta per più faciltà dello Scolaro, per sapere trovare la giusta distanza della pianta, la quale si fà curvando il ginocchio sinistro, e doppo avanzare il piede deitro per la linea retta, e per sapere quanto deve avanzare il piede destro s’abassa la punta della Spada in terra, e tenēdo il ginocchio sinistro piegato, & il ginocchio destro difesto, & il corpo che stia in cētro, come mostra la mia Figura, & il piede destro deve avázare táto quanto hà di toccare la punta della Spada.] [6]
Pallavicini illuminates this notion thus:
Pallavicini, _Fencing Illustr._, Vol. 2, illustration 2, p. 5
Marcelli’s treatment of the type of steps and guard position are separate, but the latter assumes the former. For example, in explaining how ones comes into guard he writes
having first planted the left foot on the ground, he should bring the right foot forward as much as is necessary to form a correct and proportionate stance, in relation to the distance of the step with which the blow must be extended, in order to be able afterward to easily recover with it (a thing so necessary, and of such consequence, that upon this depends the good or bad outcome of the operation).
[Impugnata in tal maniera la Spada, e piantato prima in terra il pie sinistro, porri avanti il pie destro, tanto, quanto basta a formare un passo giusto, e proporionato, respetto all distanza del passo, co’l quale si deve distendere il colpo, per potersi doppo con esso rihavere con facilita (cosa tanto necessaria, e di tanta conseguenza, che da questa dipende il buono, o cattivo successo dell’operatione).] [7]
This makes far more sense when one recalls the earlier passage on the types of steps. For brevity these are:
the straight step: made when one moves along the line of direction
the traversal or oblique step: made when we leave the line of direction and go left or right
the mixed step: a good example is the inquartata
the curved step: made when gaining, passing, or seizing the opponent’s weapon vs. returning to guard
[Quattro forti de’Passi si possono formare nel caminare à fronte del suo nemico. Il primo è’l Passo Retto. Il secondo, è’l Passo Trasversale, or vero obliquo. Il terzo, è’l Passo Misto. È’l quarto e’l Passo Curvo.
Il passo si fà, quando si camina per linea retta incontro del suo nemico, e si move à dirittura per quella medesima linea nella quale stà situaro il suo contrario. Questo si dice, caminar retto.
Il Passo Trasversale, ò vero Obliquo, è quel passo, il quale si forma, quando uscendo dalla linea retta si camina a man destra, ò à man sinistra del suo contrario…
Il Passo Misto, è quel passo, che si fà con l’Inquartata, quando che si hanno da sfuggire le stoccate che son tirate di dentro…
Il Pass Curvo si fà solamente, ò nel guadagno, ò nelle passate; benche in queste non si finischi di terminarlo, con tutto ciò da questo passo si guidano… [8]
This is, as Marcelli himself remarks, a “natural and composed posture of the body” and easily adjusted to navigate measure and set the stage for one’s choice of footwork. We unconsciously manage this all the time whenever we’re on guard; we adjust measure, we shift our feet, we shorten or lengthen steps based on what it is we need or wish to do.
Conclusion
The necessity for (relatively) easy movement, combined with a guard position designed to keep the weapon out and oneself as far back as possible, makes little sense if one of the primary methods to deliver a thrust is awkward. Just as one doesn’t serve up popsicles on fine china, so too does one avoid a stilted, jarring attack from an efficient, sophisticated guard. It needs to work.
These masters, Marcelli especially, were not simple-minded. Their students might be wounded or die if their teaching included some walk-like-an-Egyptian-lunge. It doesn’t follow. If in our interpretations we find ourselves landing with pain on the front leg, if we are off balance, then likely we are missing something.
So, what is this annverated attack then? It’s a from of half-lunge. Like the bent front-leg lunge this version uses the rear leg to propel the body forward. Nothing, however, happens until that weapon moves first. The lead foot is lifted a short way and set down with a straight leg. It’s this last portion that is different and a little tricky at first.
A natural question is why use such an attack? Part of the answer is about the context in which the Roman-Neapolitan school developed, one in which Spanish destreza played a significant role. Many of these masters quote from Carranza, Narváez, and Pacheco just as they do the luminaries of the Dardi School and others (see for example Pallavicini, Vol. 1, p. 78, in Holzman’s translation). [9] Another reason is the reality of a sharp point. In an age when most people learned to fence to protect themselves defense was foremost. Our study, however dedicated, is removed in time and purpose from the very real danger of being spiked, and so we are accustomed to taking chances we likely wouldn’t were our weapons sharp. This is a point I make a lot and I won’t belabor it here, but in sum the annervated attack is less extended, easier to recover from, and a compromise between reach to target and the dangers of over-extension.
I’m still working on this attack, but as I read and reread the sources, as I try out this annervated thrust with students, the one thing that comes to mind each time we work on it is that this had to work at least somewhat well to have appeared in works from at least 1670 to 1725 (give or take some years). Chris Holzman suggests in his translation of Nicola Terracusa e Ventura’s True Neapolitan Fencing (1725) that this interesting form of attack seems to have gone out of fashion by the time Rosaroll & Grisetti penned their magnificent The Science of Fencing (1803). The bent front-leg lunge we see in Marcelli, and which we see little of in Terracusa e Ventura, is the precursor of the lunge that most of us have learned since. [10]
Why did the annervated attack disappear? One reason may be that by 1800 fencing, while still important–especially in Italy and France where the duel survived longest–had also long been transforming into a past-time and sporting pursuit. The conservatism of the annervated thrust is less well-suited to the speed necessary in agonistic fencing, ditto the less aggressive reach to target. So much of rapier has analogues in modern epee and foil, but this attack, this odd somewhat stilted looking thrust, is an exception that allows us a unique look into the Art’s more serious past.
Marcelli, _Rule of Fencing_, Part 1, Bk I, Ch. VI
NOTES:
[1] See especially Francesco Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Trans. by Christopher A. Holzman (Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019), and Francesco Loda, Historical Fencing Manual: Rapier-Fencing in the 17th and 18th Centuries (Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2019).
[2] Feel free to disagree. The two works that I have found comprehensive, not only for technique but theory, are Marcelli and the later Science of Fencing by Rosaroll & Grisetti.
[3] European colleagues are often at an advantage in language acquisition. Living so close to other language populations and a longer tradition of language study make a difference. Outside of Latin, Middle Welsh, and Classical Irish, the three languages I spent the most time on, as a late Romanist/early medievalist I needed to be able to read some Greek, German, French, and Italian. With the exception of Latin and perhaps Middle Welsh, where I’m arguably semi-literate, I consider myself functionally illiterate in the other languages outside the extremely restricted works on history and fencing that have been my focus.
It should be obvious, but for any long passage and certainly anything I publish I always have someone expert in the language check my translation and/or interpretation of what I read. I do this even with the Latin translation work I do because it’s due diligence; it’s equally important to mention this expert help as well.
[4] Pallavicini, Fencing Illustrated, Vol. 2, p. 2; Holzman, The Second Part of Fencing Illustrated by Giuseppe Moriscato Pallavicini (Witchita, KS: LuLu Press, 2020), 1. The image of the fencer thrusting at the ball is on page 7 in Pallavicini, and page 11 in Holzman’s edition of Vol. 2. See also Giuseppe Villardita, A Compendium of Sicilian Fencing/La Scherma Siciliana ridotta in Compendio (Palermo: Imp. Cuzol. G.V.G. Imp. de la Torre R.P., 1670), image between pages 28 and 29 in Google Books.
[5] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, Bk I, Part II, Ch. V, p. 15, fig. 4; Holzman, 288.
[7] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 62-63; Holzman, 84.
[8] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 31-32; Holzman, 37.
[9] See for example Pallavicini, Fencing Illustrated, Vol. 1, Trans. Holzman, xi-xiv; Loda, Historical Fencing Manual: Rapier-Fencing in the 17th and 18th Centuries, 1-12; 38, n. 49. Dr. Loda notes that the upright stance of the annervated thrust recalls the upright stances common to much of destreza.
[10] See Nicola Terracusa e Ventura, True Neapolitan Fencing, Trans. by Christopher A. Holzman (Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2017); Rosaroll & Grisetti, The Science of Fencing, Translated by Christopher A. Holzman (Witchita, KS: Lulu Press, 2018).
POST SCRIPT: I need to get better photos with the measuring tape, but I did an experiment this morning [9 Nov. 2021] to test out the proportions of the guard and annervated thrust. Using the method mentioned above where one uses the sword to step toward when I’m in the Neapolitan guard there is approximately 18″/45.72cm distance between my left/rear foot and the heel of my lead/right foot. Depending on the degree of bend in the rear leg this can extend to 2’/61cm distance between my feet. This accords pretty well with the proportions Pallavicini lists, that is, that the space between my feet is about a third of my height when on guard. An annervated thrust from this stance is super short in terms of how far forward the front foot extends.
Lulu Press is offering 10% off purchases today (Code is FESTIVE10). For any fan of rapier, Neapolitan fencing, and late coverage of weapon combinations such as sword and buckler, rotella, etc. Chris Holzman’s latest translation, Part Two of Fencing Illustrated by Pallavicini, is out and worth your time. This second half provides more than the inclusion of the rest of the master’s repertoire, but a fuller picture of his approach in toto and how it fits in to the Neapolitan system. Other key works from the Neapolitan orbit, also available at Lulu, include Marcelli’s Rule of Fencing (1686), Terracusa e Ventura’s True Neapolitan Fencing (1725), Rosaroll & Grisetti’s The Science of Fencing (1804), and Chris’ edition of the collected works of Parise, The Roman-Neapolitan School of Fencing.
Though not as well-written as Part One (1670), Chris’ ability as a translator makes part two of Pallavicini’s dense, sometimes rambling work accessible and sensible. Like Chris’ other translations, this one offers something too many translations of historical fencing works do not–a well-made, vetted edition by an acknowledged specialist. There are a lot of translations out for historical fencing, and many are quite good, but not everyone has the background to understand these texts well, and worse, many lack the linguistic chops to do the job properly. In addition to possessing the necessary skillset to tackle these works, Chris also has each translation checked over by competent speakers, several of them native speakers of Italian who are also fencers and have training in earlier phases of the language. What Reinier van Noort has done for Dutch, German, and French works on rapier (among other topics), and Tom Leoni has done for 15th and 16th century Italian works, Chris has done for much of the Italian corpus from Marcelli (1686) to Pecoraro & Pessina (1912).
Beyond technique there is still more of interest to be found within Fencing Illustrated. Like many authors of his period, from other fencing masters to more well-known writers like Michel de Montaigne (d. 1592), Pallavicini peppers his study with numerous classical allusions. Some are meant to illustrate, some to bolster a point he wishes to make, but regardless these examples provide a window into the works available to these authors and the uses to which they were put. In a similar way Pallavicini refers to other masters of his time, both Italian and from other lands, demonstrating not only the degree to which ideas traveled, but to the importance placed even then on study outside one’s own tradition.
Lulu is bound to have more sales in future, but ten percent isn’t bad, especially for books Chris prices for much less than he could (I say that as someone who has worked in translation too–you get a lot of quality for the price). Lastly, Pallavicini is a fun read; no, really, he is. His views on fencing are important, but what he has to say of those he admires, and rivals, adds a lot to what might otherwise be a rather droll technical work. It’s a good read.
L’armee Française–Cavalerie Lègère–Trompettes de Chasseurs
If the last few posts were a clarion call against what not to do, then this one, in order to restore a little balance, is more a small bugle announcing more of a what to do. Those who know the oeuvre of Peter Sellers may recall the opening scene of “The Party” (1968) where his character, an actor named Hrundi V. Bakshi, plays a Gunga Din who refuses to die even after volley after volley by both the Thugee cultists and the colonial English army. Tone-deaf and prejudicial issues around cultural appropriation and stereotypes aside, that scene is perhaps an apt analogy for the amount of binary ink I spill about the proper and improper use of our sources. It comes up a lot, but then it’s a major problem within historical fencing and thus a fitting topic to treat. Again, and again.
Of the students that I’ve been able to meet with during the pandemic one is an experienced fencer with whom, until recently, I have worked sabre. In our discussions about it, however, we’ve occasionally discussed parallels with other weapons, chief of which—for my tradition—is foil and by extension, smallsword. The north Italian fencing tradition, because of French influence during the Napoleonic era, was different than the southern Italian tradition as exemplified by masters like Terracusa e Ventura (1725), Rosaroll & Grisetti (1803), and Parise (1882). A good friend and fellow student of fencing both Italian and French, Patrick Bratton (Sala della Spada, Carlisle, PA), can speak to this better than I can as he has been studying the source tradition for specific elements of that influence, but in short there are some parallels in north Italian sabre and foil.
I was surprised, if thrilled, that my friend and student wanted to take a look at smallsword. With the pandemic the need for variety and diversion is perhaps stronger than usual, and so switching over to smallsword for the last few weeks has been a nice break. This has been, parallels notwithstanding, new material for him, and just enough different that it’s been important to go slow so that we build the fundamentals correctly.
Converting Text to Technique
To illustrate this process, and by extension how one can use sources, I’m going to take a look at one of the more complicated actions that we’ve looked at in his lessons to date. It’s important to note a few things. First, this is a quick look at one source, not an exhaustive look at how various works at the time cover the same action. Second, “complicated” is a relative term. For many Olympic fencers this attack, while compound, is relatively simple in the sense of easy (not in the technical sense of simple attacks). However, here one must remember that the art of defense, by definition, is conservative. The more actions one makes, the more tempi, and this means that one’s opponent has more opportunities to disrupt one’s plans and strike.
“Figure of two men in the guard as explained”–Girard (1740)
After having worked fundamental actions, in this case direct thrusts in tierce and quarte both firm-footed with a lean and with an advance-lunge, always with opposition, as well as simple feints, we took at look at double feints. For this drill I looked to P.J.F. Girard and his Traité des armes (1740), Second Part, “Double Feint Quarte:”
To Thrust Quarte
This thrust is done firm footed, advancing & retreating, with or without appels, as is generally the case with all fencing attacks, as has been said before.
Double Feint Quarte
Sword engaged in tierce, I feint quarte while stamping the right foot, hand at shoulder-height, with the nails turned upward & the point near the enemy’s hilt, body back, then feint tierce outside the sword; & when he returns to parry, thrust subtly in quarte inside the sword, the hand leading, to be ready for a parry in case of a riposte, & to riposte as you see fit. [1]
The original French reads thus:
Double Feinte de Quarte
Pour Tirer Quarte
Cette botte se fait de pied ferme, en marchant & en reculant, avec des appels du pied & sans appels; ainsi que généralement tous le coups d’Armes, comme il est déja dit.
Double Feinte de Quarte
L’Epée engagée de tierce, je fais faire une feinte de quarte en frapant du pied droit, la main à la hauteur de l’épaule, tournée les ongles en dessus & la pointe à côté de la Garde ennemie, le corps en arriere, puis la feinte de tierce dehors les Armes; & lorsqui’il revient à la parade, tirer subtilement de quarte au dedans des Armes, la main la premiere dans le principe, pour ȇtre en état de parer en cas de riposte, & de riposte à propos.[2]
There is a lot here and much of it requires familiarity with earlier material Girard covers in Part 1, in particular expressions such as “firm footed” (pied ferme), “sword engaged in tierce” (L’Epée engagée de tierce), or thrusting in “quarte inside the sword” (tirer… de quarte au dedans des Armes). These may or may not be obvious to the reader. Some expressions, such as “firm footed” are not part of modern fencing’s vocabulary, so, a first step is to go back and read the relevant sections in the work that explains these concepts. The master first mentions the idea in his twelve points for the en garde position, point 12 (Crawley, 38; BnF Girard, 7):
12. Finally the left foot is flat & firm upon the ground, presenting the inside of the foot to the right heel.
XII. Ensin le pied gauche à plat & ferme sur la terre, présentant le dedans du pied au talon droit.
Girard begins Part 1 with an examination of actions “against those who always remain firm footed” (Crawley, 48; BnF Girard, 14ff). [3] In simplest terms, he breaks down the assault into two major types, firm-footed (i.e. where they do not get in and out of measure, but remain in it) and those were at least one of the opponents is moving, either advancing or retreating.
I used the same break down to build a drill—initially we would approach this double feint firm-footed, and later employ more movement, in this instance where the student would begin out of measure and advance to engage.
What is Stated, and, What is Not
The concepts of “inside” and “outside” the sword refer to the same concepts today, that is, what we normally term the inside and outside lines. The outside is, assuming a right-hander, to the right of the weapon as one stands on guard; the inside line all that space on the left. To have the sword engaged in tierce, the fencer making the feint assumes the guard of tierce (modern Italian terza or French sixte), and makes contact with or engages the opposing steel so that the opponent’s blade is to the right. In this drill, we initially had both of us in tierce. [4] The feint is made in quarte, so, to the inside line. It is not stated here, but in order to do this one must disengage under the opposing steel, so, moving from tierce to quarte or from the outside to the inside line. Girard’s detail about the hand and place of the sword tip are crucial—this disengage must be tight and performed in such a way that one continues to block the threat of the opponent’s weapon.
Here too, Girard is not specific, but after the feint the assumption is that the opponent will move to parry in quarte thus safeguarding their inside line. As they do so, one feints in tierce or to the outside line—again via disengage—in order to draw the opponent once again into a parry of tierce. When they do, one then disengages a third time and thrusts along the inside line to target, but maintaining opposition in quarte. A student of modern foil with a few months of experience can likely puzzle this out, but even then some of the language is different, not to mention the emphasis placed on closing out the opposing steel.
It may be helpful for some fencers to render Girard’s instructions into modern fencing parlance:
From an engagement in third/sixth, disengage and feint to the inside line
As they parry fourth, disengage and feint to the outside line
As they reassume third/sixth, disengage and thrust in fourth to the inside line
*in each case, both feints and the final thrust, are made with opposition, that is, closing out the line so one is not hit
Start with both fencers in measure, blades engaged; later, have the student enter into distance and take the engagement
There is no reason one must retain the original wording, but it can help reinforce what one is reading sometimes. If the older expressions trip one up, then convert them to the modern versions if you know them—this exercise alone will force us to make sure that we really understand what it is we’re reading.
Languages
While a short passage, and seemingly clear, there is a lot that Girard assumes the reader will supply. He does not tell us to disengage; he assumes that we understand that we must because we are changing lines from outside to in, from inside to outside, and again from outside to inside. These are the little things that can make parsing historical fencing treatises difficult.
Blow of high quarte inside the swords–Girard 1740
I supplied the original French here for several reasons. First, we rely on translations—especially in the States—for most of our work. This means that we are attempting to recreate, as best we can, systems used in the past and conceived of and understood in a different language. Translation is as much science as art, and it takes considerable skill and training to do well; if you have French or Italian or whatever language your area of study was originally in, then it behooves you to ensure that your translations are solid. Check your English version against the original. If you don’t have French etc., but know someone who does, ask them to give it a once over. Second, because translations mean that the translator is making choices as to definitions, sentence structure, etc., it is useful to take a closer look at those choices. Sometimes, it makes little difference—pied ferme, for example, is pretty clear, “foot firm,” or as we would say in English, “firm foot.” But, if we look at tirer, for example, this is less clear. In modern French tirer can mean: “to pull, to pull to/to close; to draw (as in to draw curtains); to fire or shoot; to print; to take.” Not one of these definitions really works well here. The closest we get is the fifth meaning (according to my Collins French-English Dictionary), “to shoot or fire,” but we would not say that one “shoots a thrust” or “fires a thrust.” Philip T. Crawley renders tirer in Girard as “thrust,” and in context that makes good sense. Further examination into the use of this word in other works on fencing from the time would confirm that this is a good choice of definition. One might even note that the Italian cognate (tirare) was used the same way. [5]
Using Word & Image Together
Feint of quarte, to thrust tierce outside the sword–Girard 1740
Girard included illustrations which aid the reader, but as static images they capture at best a moment in time, a snapshot of action. We can easily see what a guard might look like, or the moment that one fencer is about to act or has completed an action, but we cannot see a disengage. We cannot see the intensity and attitude needed to sell a feint. Here, in Girard’s 8th plate (8 planche), we see the fencer on the right lift his foot to make an appel, and he is clearly in preparation, but unless one can read the French or has a decent translation, it would be easy to conclude–as one example–that he is mid-extension and about to lunge. We cannot see what a lunge looks like as it happens, but we might see one prepare for it. We need to read the caption to realize the difference. We can and should make use of the images if we have them, but always with the caveat that we cannot assume that they are completely faithful to what the author intended and what the fencer should do. Some images supply added material, such as dotted lines meant to capture the movement of a weapon or a limb, but even here these are representational; they’re symbols, shorthand for complex ideas and motion.
Exploring what Girard, or any other master, advocates for a fencer requires that we pay close attention, that we read carefully, compare any illustrations against what we read, and that we remain open to correction as our study continues. Were we only to use Girard’s plates we would not get very far—there is too much he doesn’t depict, too much he couldn’t depict. As the example of the double feint in quarte hopefully demonstrates, even the text which explains an action leaves out key information. It may be covered elsewhere in the work, but it might not, and so taking the time to read closely, to compare the translation in our language against the original, to work via analogy as and when appropriate, and to set word and text side by side is vital if we are to have any hope of successfully recreating the systems of combat that these sources preserve.
NOTES:
[1] This translation is via Philip Crawley’s edition of Girard; P.J.F. Girard, The Art of the Smallsword: Featuring P.J.F. Girard’s Treatise of Arms, trans. by Philip T. Crawley (Wyvern Media, UK: 2014), 95.
[2] P.J.F. Girard, Traité des armes (La Haye: Chez Pieree de Hondt, 1740); available as a pdf or online at Bibliothèque nationale de France, Gallica, 48, https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k229941w.image . Hereafter, BnF Girard. I cannot express how much I value the hard work and generosity of libraries like the BnF for sharing so much online.
NB: Languages change over time and in the 1740 publication, either because Girard rendered it this way or because the printer decided to, the initial “e” in l’épée is capitalized and lacking an accent aigu where one might expect one in modern French.
[3]Contre ceux qui demeurent toujours de pied ferme. Bnf Girard, 14.
[4] Of note, tierce in smallsword is held nails-down or pronated, thumb at about 8 or 9 o’clock; modern Italian third, hand in fourth position (suppinated, thumb at about 3 o’clock) is more typical of the invitation in third; French sixth, likewise, has the hand suppinated. All three are meant to cover the outside line or defend it, and create invitations to attack the inside line, but it’s important to note that they do this somewhat differently.
[5] I am currently reading through every source for rapier and smallsword I can obtain (and read) looking at some specific elements, and the similarity in language between some of the Italian and French works are striking if not unsurprising. Originally I had intended to produce an article out of this study, but it has grown too large for that and so it will likely live here in some guise.
Marcelli, Francesco. The Rule of Fencing. Translated by Christopher A. Holzman. Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019. Originally published, Rome: The Press of Domenico Antonio Ercole, 1686. 520pp. ISBN 978-0-359-71908-2. HC $42; Pb $32.99.
Francesco Marcelli’s Regole della Scherma (Rule of Fencing), published in 1686, is arguably one of the most important fencing treatises in the Italian tradition. On the one hand, it’s one of the core works on Neapolitan fencing, not only in terms of how thoroughly Marcelli explains the particularities of the southern school, but also as a book which retained its significance far after the author’s time. His influence is obvious from Terracusa e Ventura’s True Neapolitan Fencing (1725) to Rosaroll and Grisetti’s The Science of Fencing (1803), and even down to Masiello’s Italian Fencing (1887).
Francesco Marcelli was one of several masters within this
tradition who codified the art of the Neapolitan school. There are differences
between these authors, and it’s clear there were serious rivalries.
Pallavicini, for example, refers to Francesco Mattei as a “modern” master, but
receives a few barbs from Marcelli in turn. Their differences notwithstanding
they have more in common than not and have long been considered proponents of the
same regional style.
In some ways Rule of Fencing bridges older models of fencing manuals with those which came after—like earlier works, say by Marozzo, Marcelli covers additional weapons of his time (rapier, smallsword, dagger, and sabre), but the specificity and thoroughness of his system, while often peppered with Classical allusions or extended metaphors, reads more like works of the 19th and early 20th century. This holds true both in outline and precision. Marcelli’s coverage even includes discussions of terrain, fighting at night (with and without a lantern), and what it takes to be a good instructor.
Chris Holzman, as Tom Leoni, the author of the forward and a distinguished translator in his own right, remarks, is ideally suited to tackle the monumental task of translating Marcelli for an English audience. Where his training and deep knowledge of Italian fencing opens up the material, Chris’ language ability and sensitivity to nuances in Italian allow him to unpack the author. Rule of Fencing is not an easy read. Marcelli assumes a familiarity with Classical authors and fencing masters that few contemporary readers possess. His prose is complex, it’s fancy, and much of it expressed in a grammatical mood that doesn’t work well in English.
Chris’ approach here, as indeed in all of his
translations, seeks to provide as much of the author’s ideas, language, and
expression as possible. Keeping as best he can to what the original writer
wrote is difficult, and can ring a little oddly in modern ears, but the
advantage of Chris’ method is that he gives the reader a closer approximation
of the original, and, with far less chance of the translator’s ideas creeping
in. It is always clear if and when Chris’ voice interjects—this is important
for anyone keen to keep clear what is Marcelli, and what is not. To assist us
further there are notes, a short overview of the context in which Marcelli
wrote, and brief explanations of the guard positions, Marcelli’s take on
targeting lines (e.g. what he means by inside line), and less common terms such
as the “scommosa.”
As important as Marcelli’s Rule of Fencing is for students of Italian fencing, it is equally important for any fencer truly interested in the concepts of the Art. Devotees of rapier will have more to chew on than most, but any fencer, Olympic or Classical, historical or SCAdian, will appreciate the degree of specificity, the completeness of Marcelli’s presentation, and the author’s use of illustrations. The connection between Neapolitan and Sicilian fencing with that of Spain is here, as it is in Pallavicini, everywhere evident, so students of destreza have yet another work to consider that touches on their own focus. Marcelli cites a number of earlier and contemporary Italian masters as well, opening a valuable window into how early modern masters looked back at their own, and other, fencing traditions and sources.
Perhaps one of the most valuable features of the Rule of Fencing is the way in which Marcelli breaks down complex ideas. As a quick example, in Ch. VI of Book I, Marcelli treats tempo. He starts with a short statement about when a student should learn it and why, then explores what other authors have said, from de Carranza to Alfieri, and finally provides his own insights into this core universal of fencing. There is a lot there to consider, and this is as true of Marcelli’s notions of universals (timing, distance, judgment) as it is in his explorations of particular techniques, their application, and the various contingencies that arise between fencers of different temperament and skill.
If you buy one book on rapier, or one book on Italian
fencing, or even one book on fencing theory and application, let it be this
one. One can and will return to it again and again, for there is more to mine
here, to consider, to attempt within one’s own training than in most other
works. You needn’t be a rapier fencer to benefit—there is something here, a lot
of somethings, for every fencer.
Capitale Escrime Historical Fencing 