I’ve been meaning to write something up since I returned late Tuesday, but between work and an unexpected veterinarian adventure, I’ve not had time to do this event justice. It was, in a word, amazing, and so much so that I truly hope it becomes a regular event. Patrick Bratton and team put on one hell of a seminar–it was not just the classes, though those were great, but that the setting was apropos and unique, we had behind-the-scenes access to some of the museum, and ample chances to eat, laugh, and get to know one another. Yes, we also fenced, or many did–it was all I could do not to break my doctor’s orders and jump in, but for once I was a grown-up about it (and appropriately as bitter as a toddler told “no”).
By most definitions, I don’t think people would consider me particularly “lucky,” but when it comes to finding myself at truly impressive, informative, and fun events, I’m as rich as Croesus. To the list of favorites–SabreSlash, The St. George’s Day Exhibition of Arms, Rose and Thorns Historical Fencing Symposium–I can now add a fourth, Patrick’s French Fencing weekend. One reason, beyond the obvious draw of all things hoplological or fencing-related, is that it combined three branches of the community: historical, Olympic, and reenactment. The benefits of such cross-over should be obvious, but may not be, so to illustrate this I cite the example of a fascinating chap, Matthew Schlicksup, an artisan of historical footwear currently working at Ft. Ticonderoga in New York.
Historical Artisans
Matthew makes historical footwear, among other period items, and is a master craftsman. Trained in Williamsburg, Virginia, he has made shoes, attended events, and conducted research that most of us might not think about, and, despite the fact we all wear shoes. We take them for granted. Ft. Ligonier, however, has the world’s largest collection of period shoes thanks to the accident of 18th century castoffs and the powers of anaerobic preservation. An archaeologist in initial training, Matthew brings science to his craft, and with impressive results.
This weekend he shared, and wore, his version of the fencing shoes or sandals depicted in de la Touche’s seminal treatise, Le vrays principes de l’espée seule (1670). So, here we are at an historical fencing seminar with a man who makes shoes from the period for that very purpose. This may not seem important, but it is. A few years ago I spent considerable time researching the development of the lunge and this included a look at footwear–would that I had known Matthew then! In discussion with him about de la Touche’s sandal, I learned so much more than I might have, not only about construction, but also about how such shoes function. Put simply, this was a window into period fencing via a single often unconsidered artifact.
Museum
Our host at Ft. Ligonier, Matthew Tristan, was accommodating, supportive, and generous with his time. It was he who gave us the behind-the-scenes tour. It says a lot that he and the foundation were open to having us there: a busy historical site and nuts with swords sounds like an insurance adjustor’s nightmare. With Patrick and others in period dress, and quick to chat with visitors, it went well and we hope added something to the experience. When trusted with the safety of the site and its guests, one wants to do all one can to make it go well, and under Patrick’s excellent leadership this was not even in question. With all the discussion of clubs losing insurance because of unsafe and/or stupid activities, with some unfortunate high-profile legal cases, a win like this is easy to dismiss. We shouldn’t–this was a success and a sign that things can be done correctly.
Classes
In terms of classes, I participated as much as I was able–stupid injury maintenance–but was super keen to see what Justin Aucoin did with the work of Charles Besnard, one of my favorite masters. Justin has long experience with fencing and the SCA, and runs a seriously fantastic class. People loved his classes. I loved his classes. He taught one on Besnard and a second on the bâton à deux bouts or French double-spear in Pascha. I had been looking forward to meeting Justin for some time–Patrick spoke highly of him, I liked what I saw in his videos, and he is a die-hard fan of Dumas and The Three Musketeers, that last fact which immediately endeared him to me.
Justin combines deep knowledge with obvious skill and a passion for his topic. It’s infectuous. Moreover, he works with a diverse student population–always a good sign–and so was quick to suggest work-arounds and ideas to make each thing he covered work for different folks. If he is teaching anything near you or you have the chance to travel to work with him, do.
Bridge-Building
I tend to gravitate towards and work with other folks interested in bridge-building. It’s not just the strengths that collaborative work brings, but the sort of people that go in for it. Among these, I have worked most often outside my immediate surroundings with Patrick. He is, quite honestly, a model coach and advocate for what we do. As a trained teacher (he’s a professor at a college in Pennsylvania), researcher, fencer, and man of eclectic and fascinating interests, from vintage fashion to hunting lore, Patrick perhaps more easily combines disparate strings together to make a viable tapestry.
The historical reenactment group he is involved in, a detachment of mid-18th century French marines, has worked at Ft. Lignonier, among others, before, and it was an ideal location for a look at several late 17th century fencing masters. Some students were in costume, some not, but the addition of period appearance added a lot. Having good relations with the museum staff meant not only a chance to hold the seminar on site, but also see parts of the museum most people do not see. The historian and former archaeologist in me was seriously thrilled about that, but I wasn’t alone.
The only other event that I have attended that combined all these elements so successfully was my mentor Master Michael Knazko and company’s SabreSlash–we had fencers from all walks, reenactors from Krakow (17th Polish hussars), and tours of various sites within Prague relating to fencing (among other historical subjects). In both cases the camaraderie was the finest.
A Model for Future Events
Until recently, until this latest trip actually, I had planned some invitational tournaments. Now, while there may be a tournament element, I am planning to put together something closer to what Patrick and Maestro Knazko have done. It’s a good mix–class for those who like it, some history and other activities (we ate well for example), and some fencing or lessons. It is my hope that Patrick makes this event a regular one–we’ll be lucky if he does.
I started the day off in a rapier lesson with one of the students with whom I’ve worked longest. I have often said that teaching is a two-way street, that both instructor and student—ideally—learn, grow, and improve as they work together. During one drill, my friend stopped, said “question,” and we stopped to chat. “Is there a reason you’re taking such a big second?” It was an easy observation, but one I had not made—was I? Was I taking too large a parry? He then asked “what else are you working on right now?” and then it hit me. What followed was a lovely chat about the ways in which different weapon tracks can “leak” into one another, something that can be a benefit, but in good cosmic equilibrium, can also work against us.
In this case, it was the latter, and I was grateful for his observation and said so. Focused as I was on the lesson plan, and on making purposeful mistakes, I didn’t notice an unintentional one, another insight Ken shared with me. There are many instances in which the instructor makes mistakes on purpose—it’s critical for teaching a fencer what to look for, how to take advantage of such issues, and it’s all valuable, but it’s sometimes a difficult thing to switch off, which is to say that a lot of us find ourselves struggling not to be in teacher mode when we’re bouting to bout.
The Drill
Here, the danger was not only my own overblown parry of second, but also undermining an otherwise valuable drill. At Ken’s level, we work on a lot of tactical set-ups, on second intention, traps, and ways to conserve energy. For me to drop the ball in any one section breaks the drill, and, potentially—were Ken not so aware—upsets the student’s learning. The drill in question started with a classic, workaday action:
Student: feint thrust to hand from 2nd or 3rd Instructor: parries 4th Student: disengages to strike outside of the hand or arm
Next, we added a second exchange:
Student: feint thrust to hand from 2nd or 3rd Instructor: parries 4th Student: disengages to strike outside of the hand or arm Instructor: takes a half-step back, parries 2nd, thrusts with opposition Student: transitions from 2nd to 3rd to block, ripostes over the instructor’s weapon
In taking my parry of 2nd so vertically, I made it a lot easier to hit me, something someone on their game would be less likely to do. After Ken’s correction, my parry reverted back to what it should be in this case, shallower, point closer to him, and danger way more real should he not cover.
Whither yon Leak?
It didn’t take me long to figure out what was happening. What I was doing in the instant was not so much taking 2nd as it was dropping into what broadsword sources refer to as an “outside half-hanging” parry, that is, a block defending the same area as 2nd, but which has the blade hanging more vertically. The “outside hanging” parry defends the upper half well in the same way.
For some time now I’ve been spending more time on “Old Style” broadsword. Thomas Page is the major source I am using, and the nature of that style of fight, never mind the change in heft and balance with a baskethilt, enables one to drop the blade more to parry in an outside half-hanger because the axis of rotation is the wrist, and, it’s thus quick for a riposte.
In rapier, such a deep parry is to invite a counter-attack or fail to cover a line, and so while there are similarities between them, they work differently. With Ken’s help, I now can start to work on better compartmentalizing these weapons.
Stopping the Leak
Awareness is the first step. Thanks to Ken, I am aware of that issue, and best of all, will double-check everything else I am doing.
Next, I drill both weapons with specific attention to the techniques unique to them. It always comes down to drill, more and more drill. I will also be far more mindful now, which is never bad, and with work not only will I fix some of these issues, but better serve my students.
As a coach of other fencers, and thus responsible for raising them up, challenging them, helping them reach the next goal, correct technique, just like proper timing, distance, everything, is a must. As a coach to other coaches, there is also benefit—each pitfall I encounter is another lesson for my colleagues, especially those starting out and yet unaware of problem X or issue Y. We are never finished learning, and, so long as we retain a “beginner’s mind,” we will continue to grow and be better able to make corrections as we discover places that require them.
Transitional Rapier; bladesmith Tomas Aiala Spanish hilt, ca. 1625–50; blade, 17th century [https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/27450]
An extremely clever and well-read chap I know, let’s call him “Mr. B.,” has more than once said that he believes the next “big thing” in historical fencing will be “transitional rapier.” Certainly there are signs that this is true–rapier, ever popular, thrives, but the smallsword community is growing and with it, in time, will come those who want to know how rapier led to smallsword.
In an offhand way, I often refer to rapier as a sedan and smallsword as a sports car, which is to say that (eschewing linear progression) the smallsword appeared largely because some people (not all) grew tired of the longer, sometimes more cumbersome rapier. There are a number of amusing anecdotes from the 17th and 18th centuries about swords tripping people up, becoming a nuisance in a cafe or shop, and the smaller weapon, while it can certainly be a pain to wear, was less of an annoyance in public spaces if not when sitting down, mounting a horse, or at court. [1]
Defining just what is a transitional rapier, and the dates that surround it, is challenging. Like most things in sword development and change over time, the dates are best used as guides rather than firm start and end points. To save others time, I examined a few places that discuss this–there is much more to read on it than I present here.
Egerton Castle, a Victorian scholar of fencing, whose interpretations have often been found wanting since his time, on the one hand delineates a “transitional period” well, while also muddying the waters of sword classification with his take on the “flamberge” as only Victorians could:
The seventeenth century–during the first half of which was accentuated the distinction between the military weapon, or sabre, and the walking sword, rapier, or small sword–is essentially the age of transition.
The simplification of the rapier consisted in the almost universal adoption of the cup or shell hilt, the gradual reduction of its dimensions, and the elimination of complicated counter-guards. It is observable that about the middle of the century the cup hilt becomes very shallow, and in the shell hilt the shells open out more and more. The simplest form of the transition rapier may be described as consisting of quillons, knuckle-bow, and pas-d’âne, surmounted by either a shallow cup or two plain shells. In fact, there is very little to distinguish it from the small-sword guard except its larger dimensions. [2]
In broad outline this holds up well, though there were other sorts of military swords in use, and some people continued to use previous styles of rapier. I left out his discussion of the “flamberge,” what Ewart Oakeshott among others refers to as “dish-hilt” rapier. The former term can be confusing as it referred to a variety of swords. E.D. Morton, in the Martini A-Z of Fencing, defines the flamberge as:
A somewhat imprecise term; originally it indicated any large sword, especially of the two-handed type. Yet the term was used contemporaneously, and for long afterwards, to describe a blade of the way, snakish, variety. Towards the end of the sixteenth century, the word acquired a very different significance. A flamberge was understood to be a slender-bladed rapier, with a greatly simplified hilt consisting of a cup and quillons only, but without rings, knucklebows or other accessories. Finally, in the days of the small-sword, flamberge, which in France had once been used as a synonym for almost any type of sword, became an expression of disdain for a clumsy, outmoded weapon. [3]
Perhaps significantly, one of the most important works, A.V.B. Norman’s The Rapier and Small-Sword 1460-1820, while it discusses various hilt and blade types, does not provide a specific chapter for the “transitional” stage. Norman’s treatment of the changes in guard, however, and how we date them, is informative. Placed next to other discussions, he fills in a lot of the details. [4]
In his chapter “From Rapier to Smallsword” in Swords and Hilt Weapons, Anthony North provides a succinct summary of rapier development. Just prior to his coverage of the smallsword in this chapter, North mentions what he calls “light rapiers,” such as the dish-hilts popular in England in the 1660s, and reminds the reader that many styles coexisted. The title of the chapter is fitting, for as he writes:
Rapier; hilt, probably Dutch; blade, Spanish, Toledo, ca. 1630 [https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/27371]
The seventeenth century was a most important one in the evolution of the sword in Europe, for by the 1630s the fashion for rapier and dagger play in fencing had considerably declined. A decade later the smallsword, in effect a light rapier, was introduced. In fact, from various advertisements in the ‘lost’ columns of journals such as The London Gazette it seems that, for a while at least, ‘rapier’ and ‘smallsword’ often meant the same thing. The smallsword rapidly became the most commonly worn sword in Europe and in some countries continued its career into the nineteenth century. Since the smallsword hilt developed directly from that of the rapier, it is appropriate that the two weapons should be discussed together. [5]
What is the take away from this short sample of examinations? First, “transitional” rapier might refer to a few different styles of weapon–to different lengths and widths of blade, to different hilts. Second, the period of transition, which includes overlap in style preferences, is centered on the 17th century. Individual hilt styles varied, some coming in the 16th century for example, but for the most part we’re looking at the 17th century. Fourth, and for me most useful, is considering how these weapons were intended to be used. By and large, “transitional” rapier points to use of the sword alone, that is without a parrying dagger, buckler, rotella, or other off-hand options. Moreover, transitional rapiers were focused more on the thrust than the cut, and while many late 17th century treatises still included cuts, some, like Marcelli, did so for completeness and to remind the reader that in some cases they were an option, and some, like Besnard, only include them as harrassing actions in specific instances. Against those who hold the sword with two hands, half-sword style, a cut straight down the blade, whether one’s own blade is sharp or not, will be unpleasant.
Guard position, _The Free Master of Arms_, Charles Besnard, 1653
It would be unhelpful to include all the options under the title–by that logic smallswords might be considered transitional rapiers too. That isn’t wrong, I don’t think, but it isn’t helpful either. Likewise, Italian, especially Neapolitan, and Spanish systems of the time, had not yet abandoned off-hand options. Marcelli, I would argue, represents later period rapier, but not necessarily “transitional” rapier. Ditto Pallavicini.
I am not an authority on rapier nor on sword styles and development; I’m a passionate enthusiast and fencer, so what follows on what I look to as “transitional” is just my take on things and offered only as suggestions.
A few sources I recommend:
–first and foremost is The Free Master of Arms by Charles Besnard (1653)–it is excellent and provides a very thorough approach in logical progression. Rob Runacres and Anne Chauvet have a delightful dual-language edition published by Fallen Rook Publishing.
–Another master worth examining is Johannes Georgius Bruchius (active in the 1650s)–Reinier van Noort has translated and published his important work. For fans of Fabris and his legacy in northern Europe, Bruchius is a must.
—Alfieri, while he covered a number of weapons, including rapier and dagger, devoted a lot of attention to the rapier alone–his On Fencing (1640), later republished with additional material as The Art of Handling the Sword Well (1653), is excellent.
–the work of André des Bordes, whose Discourse on Theory, Practice, and Excellence at Arms (1610) is considered a French distillation of the upublished the book by Camillo Palladini.
I would love to hear your thoughts on the topic, both the idea of “transitional” rapier, and, the masters you most look to, so feel to message me and we can make this post more of a discussion.
NOTES:
[1] I covered a few of these in the short piece I wrote, “A Brief History of Smallsword,” available here under “Coaches.” Scroll to the bottom and in bold you’ll see “Research, Interviews, and Media.” Click on that and it will take you to a list of articles, etc.
[2] Egerton Castle, Schools and Masters of Fencing: From the Middle Ages to the Eighteenth Century, 1885, Reprint New York, NY: Dover Books, 2003, 238; Ewart Oakeshott, European Weapons and Armour: From the Renaissance to the Industrial Revolution, Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press, 2000, 165-166.
[3] E.D. Morton, Martini A-Z of Fencing, London, UK: Queen Anne Press, 1988, 66.
[4] A.V.B. Norman’s The Rapier and Small-Sword 1460-1820, 1980, Reprint Ken Trotman Publishing, 2019, see especially the discussion 43-47.
[5] Anthony North, “From Rapier to Smallsword,” in Swords and Hilt Weapons, New York, NY: Barnes and Noble Books, 1993, 58-71.
In my hands is an original copy of Marcelli’s _Regole della Scherma_ 1686 owned by Maestro Kevin Murakoshi.
This weekend I had the pleasure to attend and the honor to present a class at the Rose & Thorns Historical Fencing Symposium, a two-day event composed of classes and various tournaments hosted by the folks at Diamond Rose Academie d’armes, Auburn, California. To say I enjoyed it is understatement—it was extremely well run, the quality of the fencing (beginner and advanced) was impressive, and the hosts were open, friendly, and passionate about fencing. My good friend Alex Spreier (High Desert Armizare), who kindly joined me this weekend, and I found ourselves actually enjoying the bouts—on several occasions we approached the fencers to tell them how much fun it was to watch. This is in no way a dig at Issac and company—from all I could gather pre-event they appeared as delightful as I found them to be in person, but there is sometimes a disparity between great folks and less ideal tournaments. Rose & Thorns, in my view, is the ideal.
Before explaining that, I should state that my notion of the ideal meet consists of quality fencing, education, and camaraderie. Many events feature people who get on well, and many do their best to provide classes, but with few exceptions I’ve not seen the level of fencing skill, beginner to advanced, that I did here, whether in the pools or in pick-up bouts. Caveat: this is not to say that such events don’t exist—I’m assured by friends and one recent reader that there are other high quality examples of solid fencing. I believe that, I do, but this said for the events I’ve not attended some of the footage shared from them has proved the rule (hop and chop, all first intention, no use of measure, etc.) rather than the exception. Put another way, Rose & Thorns is what “HEMA” tournaments should be.
Smallsword and rapier, generally, draw a different crowd. Interest in these weapons overlaps with like-minded enthusiasts in the SCA, among others, and given Diamond Rose’s history (iirc it began as SCA), this isn’t surprising, but at the risk of offending friends of mine in the Scadian orbit, the smallsword and particularly the rapier I saw was, by and large, not what I typically see in the SCA. It says a lot that I could often identify the source a particular fencer favored, and it says more that the fencers in question weren’t merely costumed up and aping the plates, but making effective use of the source material. There was also a healthy mix of people—some clearly classically inspired fencers, some from the sport-rapier/black tiger side, and even—importantly—Olympic fencers with one foot in historical. Among the last, it was a treat finally to meet Christopher Bartlett. He’s a seriously nice chap and an excellent fencer.
The blend of classes and lectures, the division of the hall into a teaching/pick-up bout/vendor side, and competitive sections, was smart. I was not able to do it all, and missed a few options that I should like to have attended, but the classes I was able to attend and the people whom I met and had a chance to chat with, more than made up for it. In particular, I had a chance to meet some people I’ve mostly known via fb, such as Matthew Lawrence, Christian Killingsworth, and Maestro Kevin Murakoshi (Maestro, thank you so much for sharing your recent book acquisitions, and, for introducing me to Itto Ryu). Meeting such wonderful humans is one of the things that makes these events so special.
Thanks to two long days on concrete, and a misstep (my own fault) during Christian’s class on Nicolaes Petter, I had trouble with my hip and so was unable to enjoy some pick-up bouts with Issac and his people, among others, and so here I’d like to add that I collectively owe them a bout or two next time we meet.
Thank you Issac Humber and Diamond Rose for hosting and running such a stellar event. I am honored to have been asked to teach and am grateful to you all, and to those who attended my class on Charles Besnard’s Le maistre d’escrime libéral. The Rose & Thorns Historical Fencing Symposium has joined SabreSlash in Prague (hosted by my dear friend Maestro Michael Knazko) and the excellent Russ Mitchell’s St. George’s Day Exhibition of Arms as one of the events I should like to attend again and which I hope never dies.
“Show, don’t tell,” was some of the best teaching/writing advice I ever received. To that end, I’m adding some specific drills to illustrate what I shared in the last post on this topic better (https://saladellatrespade.com/2023/10/31/yes-yes-very-nice-but-how-cultivating-defense/ ). Many, if not most of these drills, are venerable—if anything I may have adapted things here or there, but all of what follows are standard drills or types of drills. [1]
These progressive option drills start with a basic action and build in complexity. If a student is new or struggling, one may stop with the first version and work on that, or, aspects of it. For more advanced students, one can add an additional layer of difficulty as required. In the first example, for smallsword, one could simplify the drill even more by having the student initially deny the engagement and break measure. This would observe the “don’t get hit” rule, but not set them up well for a strike of their own.
Two things I didn’t add below, but which apply are first, that it’s important to switch roles, that is, have both the student and instructor initiate the action. This gives the student a chance to act as attacker and defender. Second, movement and varying distance is critical for success. If one starts “firm-footed,” that is, in place, fine, but then add movement. Chase the student, have the student chase the instructor; start out of measure, start in measure. For more advanced students, another option we can layer in is varying tempo and speed.
Drills & “Realism”
On their own, there is little inherent in most drills to make them impart a defensive mindset automatically. All the drills I provide below, for example, can be gamed to current tourney standards easily if one wishes. How “realistic” or not they are depends on explanation and reiterating correct principles over and over and over again within each element of the drill.
One of the most frequent questions I get in drills and lessons, and a good one, is “but why wouldn’t I just do this?” This simple question has become one of the single most important ways in which I push correct mindset. To cite one example from this past week, one student in a smallsword class asked me why they couldn’t just disengage and thrust against the glide in third. I told them that they could, but then asked what would happen if they did—what is the opponent doing? If the opponent is gliding to target, and one ignores that to strike… one is still hit. Not good enough. IF one wishes to disengage in response, fine, but don’t do so into absence, do so with opposition in the new line, a shift of the body to one side, or both. [2]
Ex. for Smallsword:
Option Drill with the Glizade/Glide in Third
To Start: S [student]: in guard of third I [instructor]: in guard of third *engaged on the outside line
Option 1A: Student Attacks
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own [3]
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and strikes target (forward target or chest)
2A:
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
I: parries 3rd, ripostes; S. parries in 3rd and ripostes [4]
3A
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
I: parries 3rd, begins riposte; S. disengages, engages in 4th, thrusts to target with opposition
4A:
S: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
S: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
I: makes dérobement to avoid glide and engages in 4th
S: via circular 3rd, retakes line and glides in 3rd to target
Option 2A: Instructor Attacks
I: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
I: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
S: parries 3rd, ripostes
2A:
I: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
I: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
S: parries 3rd, begins riposte; S. disengages, engages in 4th, thrusts to target with opposition
3A:
I: finds measure and gains weak of I’s blade with middle of own
I: performs glide in 3rd, maintaining opposition, and thrusts
S: makes via dérobement avoids glide and engages in 4th
I: via circular 3rd, retakes line and glides in 3rd to target
S: parries in 3rd, ripostes
Ex. for Rapier:
Finta Scorsa or Advancing Feint of Marcelli
To Start:
S: in guard of prima
I: in guard of third
Option 1A: Student Attacks
S: in prima, makes false attack to the high inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line, and strikes target (forward or chest)
2A:
S: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte
S: parries in 3rd (or 4th depending) and ripostes, striking target
3A
S: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte low-line
S: takes 2nd, ripostes with opposition
4A:
S: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
I: parries in 4th
S: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte low-line
S: takes 2nd and thrusts; I. parries 2nd, begins riposte
S: parries 2nd, ripostes with opposition
Option 2A: Instructor Attacks
I: in prima, makes false attack to the high inside line
S: parries in 4th
I: via cavazione /disengages to outside line, and thrusts
S: parries in 3rd, ripostes to target
2A:
I: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
S: parries in 4th
I: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; S. parries 3rd, begins riposte
I: disengages to 4th, starts riposte with opposition
S: disengages to 4th, ripostes with opposition to target
3A:
I: in prima, makes false attack to the inside line
S: parries in 4th
I: via cavazione /disengages to outside line; I parries 3rd, begins riposte low-line
S: takes 2nd and thrusts; I. parries 2nd, begins riposte
S: parries 2nd, ripostes with opposition
I: with parry in 2nd, passes left foot forward in order to seize guard
S: steps back, attacks to body
Ex. For Rapier and Dagger:
Working from Mezzaluna (Marcelli)
To Start:
S: in guard of mezzaluna
I: in fourth guard [5]
Option 1A: Instructor Attacks
I: in fourth guard, makes attack to the inside line
S: parries with dagger; with sword ripostes to target (forward or deep)
2A:
I: in fourth guard, makes false attack to the inside line
S: attempts to parry with dagger (downwards and out)
I: disengages to strike hand
S: parries with dagger (upwards and out), ripostes with sword to target
3A:
I: in fourth guard, makes beat attack against sword to open the inside line
S: parries in 4th to close line, ripostes with opposition
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out), ripostes with sword inside line
S: parries with dagger (downwards and out), ripostes to arm
Option 2A: Student Attacks
S: makes false attack to face
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out)
S: disengages and strikes arm or hand
2A:
S: makes false attack to face
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out); ripostes to arm
S: disengages and strikes to arm or hand
I: parries with dagger, ripostes
S: parries with dagger (downwards and out); ripostes to arm
3A
S: makes false attack to face
I: parries with dagger (upwards and out); ripostes to arm
S: makes circular parry in 3rd; ripostes via glide to outside line
I: parries in 3rd, checks with dagger, ripostes in high line over engagement [6]
S: parries with dagger (upwards); shifts right, ripostes to body
Ex. for Sabre:
Options from an Engagement in Second
S &I: in 2nd, at punta spada/last third/weak of the sword; then, start out of distance
Option 1A: Student Attacks
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: a. performs molinello ristretto or coupé to the arm [7] b. performs molinello ristretto via rising cut to the bottom of the arm
2A:
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: performs molinello ristretto via rising cut to the bottom of the arm
S: secondary attack: pushes through to thrust or cut flank
3A:
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: a. performs molinello ristretto or coupé to the arm
I: parries 3rd, cuts to head
S: parries 5th, cuts via molinello to head
4A:
S: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
I: moves to parry in 1st
S: performs molinello ristretto via rising cut to the bottom of the arm
S: secondary attack: pushes through to thrust or cut flank
I: parries in 2nd; ripostes via thrust
S: makes ceding parry in 2nd, ripostes via thrust to target
Option 1A: Instructor Attacks
I: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
S: moves to parry in 1st, parries via molinello to head
2A:
I: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
S: moves to parry in 1st
I. disengages and cuts to arm
S: parries 3rd, cuts head
3A:
I: cuts over to threaten face with feint via half thrust
S: moves to parry in 1st
I. disengages and cuts to arm
S: parries 3rd, cuts head
I: parries 5th, cuts to flank
S: parries in 2nd, thrusts to target
NOTES:
[1] To name one example, and analogous to the first one I share here, there is the discussion of options facing an opponent in 4th in Charles Besnard, Le maître d’arme liberal, 1653, 43 (63 [orig. French] and 161 [English] in the translation by Anne Chauvat and Rob Runacres, The Free Master of Arms, Glasgow, UK: Fallen Rook Publishing, 2022).
[2] The use of the inquartata or demi-volte, for example, would work in this instance.
[3] Two ways to vary this are to have the student find measure by a short extension of the arm from critical distance, in order to gain the weak with the middle of their weapon, or, have them step into measure to engage. The first is more conservative, but the second option is important—ideally, students learn to find measure and exploit it both ways.
[4] As set up here, the final actions are a battle of ceding/yielding parries and glides. Both help students cultivate better awareness of presence, varying pressure, measure, and opposition.
[5] Marcelli’s fourth guard for rapier and dagger is depicted thus:
Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, “fourth guard” (L) and “mezzaluna (R)
Mezzaluna, on the right, needs explanation. Chris Holzman points out that Terracusa e Ventura (1725) remarks that the tips of the two weapons are close enough to form a “half moon” shape. Here, there is a much wider gap between them. The accompanying text, however, tells us that the fencer “carries the dagger forward covering all the upper parts in such a way that the opponent only sees the chest below the dagger as target to strike.” [Holzman, Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019, 273; see also n. 115 that page.
Hà portato il Pugnale avanti, coprendosi tutte le parti superiori, di modo che il nemico vedesolo per bersaglio da colpire il petto per le parti di sotto il Pugnale [Marcelli, Regole della Scherma, Lib. I, Cap. III, 4]
[6] Here, the instructor, having parried the incoming sword in 3rd, uses the dagger to hold the opposing weapon in place in order to swing their weapon around obliquely to the right and up (assuming a right-hander) in order to threaten the face.
[7] The coupé , in Radaellian sabre as taken down by Del Frate, is also known as the colpo di cavazione or cavazione angolata. It is made by bending the forearm back a bit to increase power. Chris Holzman, in his gloss, remarks that it’s similar to the last step of the molinello. See Christopher A. Holzman, The Art of the Dueling Sabre, Staten Island, NY: SKA Swordsplay Books, 2011, 234.
This post is a follow-up to the last [“They Doth Cut too Much,” Methinks, 19 Oct. 2023] and takes up, again…, the issue of how we make a touch. This issue has been on my mind a lot in part because of teaching, but also because my current book project requires me to explain the challenge of hitting without being hit as simply and clearly as possible. While I’ve discussed this often, which is to say like the drone of a bagpipe in a particularly long air, it’s one of these critical issues that we can never really emphasize enough. The proper mindset determines everything we do.
In brief, rather than focusing on making the touch, we should focus on trying not to be hit. It’s easy to say, but far harder to put into practice. The old adage “nothing ventured, nothing gained” might work in dating, but it’s rubbish as a maxim for self-defense. We focus too much on offense. While the same conservatism would help Olympic fencers, it’s less necessary for those in foil or sabre thanks to the conventions of right-of-way (ROW); epee fencers, on the other hand, would certainly benefit. If the entire point of historical fencing is to approach as best we can how swords might have been used in the past, then fencing in ways that run counter to that ethos is nonsensical.
“HEMA,” the popular expression of historical fencing, has been around long enough that it’s likely that many newer fencers, because they have not had to face the issues that helped create the movement, may be wholly unaware of the place that attempting realism had/has in shaping “HEMA.” To enter this world now is, for the most part, to enter a sword-based sport similar to Olympic fencing, only without the pedagogy, organization, and recognition. This means that many fencers in “HEMA” are, in good faith, learning to approach things more concerned with competitive rule-sets than the logic of the sharp point. So ingrained is the competitive outlook that even those not actively competing often adopt the same methods and mentality. Social media, YouTube, and a few of the organizations, such as the HEMA Alliance, present a seemingly unified mode of play and purpose.
As a caveat, there’s nothing wrong with competition—despite all the bitching I’ve done here about problems with it, the fact is I like competition and have enjoyed it myself. The longer I look at these problems, the more convinced I am that many of them, such as doubles, obsession with the afterblow, etc., all might be remedied by better attention to defense rather than making the touch.
The Logic of the Sharp Point
At the risk of sounding reductionist or like yet another would-be western Zen guru, in the end there is nothing but the sharp point. It is all that matters. The entire purpose of fencing is defense—it’s in the name. “Fencing” derives from Middle Engligh fens, a shorter version of defens, a word used to denote defense, resistance, even fortification (the ME term ultimately comes down via medieval Latin defensum). Italian scherma and French escrime both derive, originally, from a Frankish word, skirmjan, “to protect or defend.” [1] While the denotation of words over time often change, it is worth noting the consistency in the meaning of the terms for fencing, and, how the source tradition reflects the same concern behind what these words mean. Sure, we read a lot about offense, but no master I can recall suggests rushing into the fray minus concern for personal safety or suggesting that winning a contest via afterblow is legitimate.
Maestro Nick Evangelista, so far as I know, is the origin for this phrase, the logic of the sharp point, but what he describes is, and should be, self-evident. [2] Every action we make, every decision, should reflect this logic. Having watched Olympic sabre tank in the 1990s, and having the misfortune to watch HEMA make many of the same mistakes ever since, I believe that this same logic should be present in competition. When it is absent, we see a lot of, to put it bluntly, stupid actions.
It is human nature to game systems, to find ways to work around them. We love loopholes. I’ve not stayed current on the latest trends in bio-social-anthropology or evolutionary psychology, but the studies that emerged when I did were sobering. Put briefly, if people believe they can get away with something, they’ll go for it. [3] As great a tragedy as that can be, when our rule-sets then follow suit and make the loophole canon, it’s a far greater calamity. Now a source of authority enshrines the mistake. Given the value most in HEMA place on competitive success (despite all the flaws in that assumption), to argue anything counter to established practice is treated like heresy. This is true no matter how well-supported the supposition might be. Emotion and identity typically beat out reason and evidence. Concurrently, the opinion of some “name” or “HEMA celebrity” trumps most arguments, however sound.
There is little one can do about human nature, and thus, little one can do to fix the cognitive bias that affects HEMA. Moreover, the increasing distrust of experts, in most any field, compounds the problem. The best we can probably do, following Voltaire, is tend our own garden. [4]
Fencing with the Logic of the Sharp Point
What follows is a quick summary of my approach. I’ll use smallsword and rapier as an example as these are the weapons I teach most (I follow the same methodology for sabre). Nothing here is new or uniquely mine—as I see it this is just doing what we should be doing IF the swords were sharp. Fencing this way requires far more concentration on the imagined danger than it does anything else. After all, we do this for fun and wear safety gear, and thus outside the lunatic fringe should have nothing to worry about. [5]
The first rule is “don’t get hit.” If there is a choice between making the touch and being hit, and avoiding the hit, I encourage students to choose the latter. Even if this means losing the opportunity to riposte, better that than be hit. Defense should govern all, and so I teach them to defend unless they are certain that an attack has some chance of reaching target without danger to themselves. For rapier and smallsword especially this means selecting those actions which provide opposition and which allow them to recover either behind the point, with a parry, or with a beat. This conservatism also means choosing the extended or advanced target over the body. The hand, wrist, and forearm allow one to strike a vital target—were the weapons sharp such a blow might end the fight—and at the same time allow one to stay farther away and better able to defend (there is textual support for attention to the forward target). [6] In order to defend well students must develop a keen sense of measure, tempo, and judgment, three of the most important universals in fencing. Attendant to observing these principles they must be able to move well, quickly, effectively, efficiently, and with balance. They must possess excellent point control. They must be able to read the opponent quickly.
It takes time to develop these skills, a lot of time. There is no royal road to skill acquisition. This said, regular practice, proper drill, and the right attitude can do more than one might think. It goes without saying that proper instruction is everything.
Institutionalized Suicidal Tendencies
My horrific GenX puns aside, HEMA is quickly institutionalizing (if it hasn’t already) an approach to fencing that would get most people killed were the weapons real. [7] The number of students I talk to who experience a peculiar gaslighting in bouts grows all the time. For example, one of the students I see, and who fences at another club as well, has been frustrated by the lack of concern colleagues at the latter seem to possess in bouts. Even when he has the initiative and launches a good thrust, one they should parry, they’re as likely to make some counterattack with a feeble cut than anything else. They have zero awareness of the problem, but my friend does because he fences as best he can to the logic of the sharp point. It is far harder to see this clearly when everyone around us sees it another way. We’ve chatted at length about it, and I’ve assured him that from what I’ve seen of him fencing, what I’ve experienced bouting with him, and from what I know of other clubs, he’s doing everything right, but, can’t and shouldn’t expect others to know that.
This is an uncomfortable place to be. This same friend wants his mates to improve too, but they won’t so long as they continue to fence like they’re playing a game of tag. Our bouts shouldn’t be about who hit first, but who hit and was not hit. I’d be at a loss for why this is even an issue, because it seems so obvious, but the truth is before us: the people playing tag think they are doing it right.
Earlier I mentioned the problem of cognitive bias: this is the best explanation for what my friend, what so many of us experience fighting in genpop HEMA. [8] The people making that ridiculous cut in rapier against a thrust they should be parrying believe they are acting correctly. It matches what they see in tournament footage, what their clubmates do, and so, ergo, it must be right. So, how do we overcome this problem? Can we overcome it?
I’d suggest as a first step entertaining the possibility that we might have something wrong. With historical fencing, we have copious sources against which to compare what we’re doing, and, in some cases, some pretty decent scholarship about it. All of us have to do this, as painful as it can be sometimes, because no one is infallible. We must consider the context of what we’re learning and place that next to our context which, for the most part, is very different. We should also compare notes, which here means visiting other clubs, taking lessons with people at other schools, and fencing with as many different people as we can (the more skilled, the better). If we do these things and are able to step back from it all, and analyze it, we are more likely to see the patterns, and within those patterns, any deviation. Maybe that deviation is correct, maybe not, but it can no more be taken on faith as anything else.
Let’s use my posts as an example—if you read them, thank you, but please go look up these topics and see what others say. Check my facts. I do my best to fact-check and support everything, but I goof up too. It’s one reason I leave comments on and a contact feature on this website—so I can make corrections when people share them with me. Watch footage on YouTube and look for suicidal fencing; look for more defensive fencing. Read. Chat with people. Collect all this stuff and then compare it. I’m not the betting sort, but I’d wager that if you do, and accept the universal principles outlined in so many works on fencing, you may notice the same set of problems. The more of us who do, the more likely we might effect any change for the better in HEMA.
NOTES:
[1] Cf. “escrime” at Trésor de la Langue Française informatisé,
[3] In the 1990s, early 2000s, two scholars at my alma mater (Leda Cosmides and Joh Tooby) produced some excellent work on this topic. See Leda Cosmides, et al., “Detecting Cheaters,” in Trends in Cognitive Sciences 9: 11 (2005): 508-510; a wonderful, but likely dated book on the topic is The Adapted Mind: Evolutionary Psychology and the Generation of Culture, Jerome H. Barkow, Leda Cosmides, and John Tooby, eds., New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1992; Jens Van Lier, et al., “Detecting Cheaters without Thinking: Testing the Automaticity of the Cheater Detection Module,” in PloS One 8: 1 (20-13): https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3547066/
I’m no prophet, but the divisions we see within HEMA will likely formalize in time—this is a pity, but understandable. Many of us, myself included, already believe our approach to be different enough that it no longer qualifies as “HEMA” (as typically defined and expressed). It’s one reason I prefer “historical fencing” or “historical martial arts” over the usual acronym. I’ve covered this too often to regurgitate it here, so will leave it at that (see for one examples, “Disparate Places, Liminal Spaces,” https://saladellatrespade.com/2021/06/15/disparate-places-liminal-spaces/ ).
[5] I hit these notes as often as the others, but again, it bears repeating. There is a weird fetishizing of injury in HEMA that I don’t understand. Whenever someone shares some fb post of some smiling fencer sporting their latest battle-wound I hear the words of Bismarck to a young German cadet. I forget where I read it (still trying to find the citation), but supposedly the young man thought to impress the chancellor with his scars. The latter supposedly remarked “In my day we parried with the blade, not our faces.” Von Bismarck was a redoubtable schlager and fought over seventy duels as a student.
[6] I’m not a fan of self-aggrandizement, but since I put a lot of time into this topic, may I suggest an article I wrote, “The Curious Case of the Forward Target in Rapier and Small Sword,” April 2023, available here: https://saladellatrespade.com/instructors/research-media/
[7] The title of this piece is a nod to the 1983 hit “Institutionalized” by Suicidal Tendencies, a band out of Venice, California, and one of the first punk/thrash hits to get much radio attention. See https://youtu.be/LoF_a0-7xVQ?si=c37NGGbWWPi1k6hn
Capo Ferro’s lunge, p. 49 in _Great Representation of the Art and Use of Fencing_ (1610)
In a recent discussion with a good friend and fellow fencer about differences in perception of success when bouting, we got to talking about how this plays out specifically for rapier. He’s been frustrated when bouting with the folks at his other school, namely by the lack of concern they have for their own theoretical safety, and, their over-reliance on cuts. Having spilt so much binary ink on the issue of failure to focus on how safely one makes a touch (over just making it no matter what), I’ll leave that aside, for now, and focus on the matter of cuts in rapier. [1]
It’s not that cuts didn’t exist within the canon of attacks for rapier, because they absolutely did, but that they tend to enjoy a disproportionate amount of attention in “HEMA.” Moreover, there are some clubs, perhaps the one my friend attends included, that opt for a cut over a thrust more often than they probably should. By and large, the rapier was a thrusting weapon; this use only intensified as rapier play developed, a fact demonstrated well within the surviving corpus of texts. The rapier of Agrippa and that of Marcelli, while similar in many ways, likely boasted an important difference: blade width and overall weight. [2]
Generally, cutting swords have a wider blade profile—there are more knowledgeable people than I am who can verify this. Gus Trim, Tinker, and Peter Johnsson, among others, can provide far more specific, detailed answers. Though not always critical depending on sword-type, many cutting swords weigh a bit more than those for thrusting do. [3] Earlier rapiers tended to boast wider blades than many later ones. None of this, however, was monolithic—there was no committee for rapier width and use. Older swords stayed in service or were re-hilted. Newer swords might reproduce a cherished heirloom. There was the issue of individual preference. And, surviving examples demand caution as not only are there many fakes produced for rich collectors in the late 19th/early 20th centuries, but some extant swords are likely an amalgam of different weapons.
With extant examples all over the map, and few in number relatively speaking, a far better guide to use, at least for suggested use, resides in the treatises on rapier. To cover more than a couple here would be the length of a bible, and since I’m told my posts are “too long” (really? Does no one read anything longer than a headline?), I’ll cover a small sample. What follows is a picture painted with broad strokes—individual texts may be more cut-happy, but compared to the majority of texts and the overall representation of the rapier as thrusting weapon the take-away is that the point is primary, not the edge.
Camillo Agrippa (1553)
Significantly, Agrippa assumed cuts as part of the fencer’s repertoire of actions. This said, he makes it clear that he vastly prefers the point, and, that it is superior to cuts. For example, Camillo in discussing his first guard wrote
Moreover, some people say they can raise a man out of a guard in which he holds his hand extended in this way by cutting with mandritti and riversi, with defensive weapons such as the dagger or the cape, or by seizing the blade with a guanto di presa. I reply that this is nonsense, for, as I have often repeated, someone who tries to beat the point of your sword aside with mandritti is only fooling themselves. That is because you can, in a single action, without moving your arm any, lower the point a little bit to evade the enemy’s sword, aim at his right side, extend your arm while rotating your hand, and step forwards with your right foot to hit him.
Et rispondendo à quelli che affermano poter levar’ uno facilmete da questa Guardia, tenendo tanto innanzi la mano, con mandritti, riversi, & co arme diffensive, come son oil pugnale, et la cappa, overo pigliandola co’l guanto da presa, fargliela distuile, dico replicando quan to ho detto molte volte, che s’ingannano d’ assai, difignando con loro mandritti, batterli la punta de la spada, perche senza movere punt il braccio dal suo loco, abbassando alquanto la detta punta, col schifar la spada contraria, & volgendo la mano in giro, verso la parte destra del nemico, et brevemente, co’l springere d’ esssa mano, & col passer innazi, di pie dritto, tutto in un tratta potrebbe invester l’ aversario… [4]
It is not that Agrippa eschewed these cuts, for he also says just a little farther into the same chapter that one can easily make these cuts from his guard of prima. He also mentions that these kinds of cuts can be useful if the opponent attempts to beat or seize one’s weapon—this implies an attack into tempo from a secure position and distance. It does not suggest using cuts as a direct attack. Elsewhere Agrippa mentions using cuts, such as a riversi to the flank or leg, from grappling distance, which makes sense: it’s harder to bring the point to bear from close measure:
However, if the enemy is so quick that he can make a stramazzone to your head, abandon the first technique, parry him close to your hilt, and follow with the same grappling technique, raising your right hand and aiming the point at his right side in second so that he has to parry—whereupon you can attack him with a riverso to the flank or leg.
Ma se il nemico fosse cosi presto, che volgesse co un stramzazzone per testa, Questo abbandonarebbe il principal colpo, ch’ io dissi di sopra, & volgendo di croce, pararebbe al contrario, presso al fornimento de la sua spada, & sequirebbe à far’ la presa sopradetta, alzando la mano dritta in alto, con la punta verso il fianco suo destro, con la volta di mano, & benche il nemico parata che havesse la Seconda di questo, potesse offenderlo d’un riverso nel fianoc, overo ne la gamba. [5]
Throughout his text, Agrippa does not discount the cut, but uses it in specific instances. For the most part, he advocates using the point whenever possible, and, it makes sense—thrusts are faster, and, more devastating.
Nicoletto Giganti (1606)
Giganti begins his work with the sword alone as “carrying a dagger, targa or rotella is not common in every part of the world,” and even so armed one might lose them in a combat and be left only with the sword. [6] His work starts with focus on the thrust. After introducing guards and counter-guards, and explaining measure and tempo, the very next thing Giganti shares is his take on the direct thrust via lunge.
It is not until his twelfth plate that he mentions cuts, and concerning that plate the topic is delivering a thrust in tempo against someone making a cut. [7] Two plates later he discusses defense against someone making a cut to the leg. [8] It is little surprise given his treatment of cuts in the portion dealing with the sword alone that when it comes to sword and dagger Giganti is also concerned more with defense against cuts than using them. Both cover methods for parrying a head-cut with the dagger, the second being specific to countering a riverso. [9]
This treatise is popular in “HEMA,” and Leoni’s edition is fantastic as he does much to help the reader understand not only terminology, but also the pedagogical approach and principles. Emphasis throughout this text is mostly on the thrust; where he covers cuts, it’s mostly in reference to defending against them.
Capo Ferro (1610)
NO idea what’s up with the formatting
This master’s work, another popular in “HEMA,” like those covered so far, is no exception for preferring the thrust to the cut. In chapter 12, “Of Strikes” (Del ferire), section 116, Capo Ferro states
The cut is of little importance, since it is impossible to use it in the narrow measure. The arc described by my arm and sword leaves me completely open and makes me lose measure; instead, it gives the opponent a good tempo in which to hit me. Although the cut is of some utility, the thrust can always be employed more fruitfully from the same measure and in the same tempo.
Il taglio è di poco momento; perche non posso ferire di taglio nelle dette distanza della misura stretta, che per il giro del braccio, e della spada, ch’io fo, non mi scuopra tutto è non dia misura, & tempo all’annversario di ferirmi, & se pure si trova qualche utilità di taglio non è però, che nella medesima misura, & nell’ istesso tempo non si possa mostrare una maggior della punta. [10]
Throughout his treatise, Capo Ferro’s focus in on the thrust, and in fact, he has a separate section near the end entitled “Some Principles regarding the Cut” (Dalcuni Termini del Taglio), where he makes this clear:
I had thought of adding some illustrations on how to deliver and parry cuts (plus a good number of actions on this topic), but I realized I can accomplish the same with a brief description of the following principles.
Ha vevo fra me stesso risoluto di appresetarvi aclune figure, che vi mostrassero il mod di coltelliggiare, sì del parare, come del ferire, & in quest’attione mostrarvi molti effetti, ma considerando, che quello, che potevo fare con le figure, possolo ancor fare co questi pochid’avertimenti, che vi propongo… [11]
Of note, Capo Ferro mentions cuts within the body of the work, often as options in certain situations, but his plates and the focus is, again, on thrusts.
Francesco Alfieri (1640)
On first glance this master might be said to have advocated for the cut more in his treatise, La Scherma/On Fencing, so it seemed fitting to include him. After all, if he provides an argument for the inclusion of the cut in our own rapier practice, then it would be remiss not to discuss him. However, a close reading will indicate that to say Alfieri was different than most other masters would be to misread him.
In chapter 18, on attacks and types of strikes, Alfieri mentions two types of attacks, the thrust and the cut. He then enumerates the various cuts and explains their meaning, e.g. riverso is a backhand cut, a mandritto a forehand cut. Importantly, just after the explication of cuts, he writes
It is common for all fencers to consider the thrust far preferable to the cut. The reason they point to is that the thrust is more lethal, which is something I don’t necessarily agree with. A shorter, wider sword wielded by a strong man can deliver cuts every bit as fearsome as thrusts—which means that the this reason must be complemented by other considerations to explain the most basic difference between these two modes of attack.
Tutti li Schermitori comunemente vogliano, che’l ferir di punta sia di gran longa, megliore che’l ferir di taglio, e la ragione che ne adducano è, perche la punta sia più mortale del taglio, io non resto in questo sodisfatto, I tagli d’una Spada corta, larga, è d’un braccio forte, si deveno cosi temere quanto le punte, e però alla ragion de gl’altri, par à me che si debbano aggiungere alter considerazioni le quali mostrano con maggior son damento la lor differeza. [12]
The master provides four additional reasons for the value of the thrust over a cut. First, one uses more of the weapon to cut, and casting so much of the weapon makes it easier for the opponent to defend since there is more of the weapon to intercept. Second, the thrust is faster—it traverses a shorter path to target; cuts, he adds, may be stopped by bone and not reach the vital organs. Third, because the arc of a cut is slow, it allows an opponent potentially more time to anticipate one’s attack and prepare for it. Lastly, cuts tire the arm as they require more energy and motion to make, not to mention often uncovering the body.
Plate 5, Alfieri, _La Scherma_, 1640
In his first dedicated section on the attack, Chapter V, Alfieri covers the stocata longa and the two principal cuts (due Tagli principali). Leoni translates the chapter title as “How to Perform the Lunge: The Two Main Cuts,” which obscures the importance of the word stocata. As he himself explains in the glossary of his translation of Giganti, stoccata is a general term for the thrust. [13] In the Italian the title of the chapter reads Come si Tiri la stocata longa, e i due Tagli principali, or, somewhat loosely, “How to Lunge the Thrust, and the Two Main Cuts.” A reader unacquainted with the original text (and Italian), will likely read this as “how to lunge the two main cuts.”
The Italian corpus includes a number of terms for the lunge—arguably stocata longa might be taken as merely a lunge, but next to the passage the title corresponds point for point. To translate this as a lunge versus a lunge via thrust gives undue precedence to the cut. In this very section, Alfieri indicates that the lunge with thrust comes first:
To learn how to deliver it [the lunge], place yourself in the mixed guard and move your hand, sword, arm, foot and shoulder all in a single tempo. By doing so, your thrust will reach farther, travel faster and your attack will be virtually impossible to parry.
Per imparare à tirar la bisogna ritrovarisi nella Guardia Mista, e in un tempo unire à far questo moto, la mano, la Spada, il braccio, il piede, e la spalla, con queste circostanze s’allonga il colpo, va con velocita, ed è poco meno che irreparabile… [14]
Placed together, the direct thrust and the two chief cuts, the mandritto and riverso, illustrate this author’s stance in re cuts: they belong in one’s arsenal. The next chapter likewise mixes these attacks, but notably starts with thrusting options. In sum, while Alfieri clearly valued the cut and provided options for it, he covers the thrust first and argues for its primacy.
Francesco Marcelli (1686)
As a last and late example, I’ve selected the text from which I work most, Marcelli’s Rules of Fencing. That changes in practice had occurred since Agrippa is clear—Marcelli remarks that
In order to fulfill my duty, because the cuts are not so frequently practiced, I must not omit their explanation, and also teach them to avail themselves of them in tempo, so that the studious disciple can, in a regulated manner, avoid the danger of it and turn it to their advantage. Nonetheless, with the warning made a little earlier, that the cuts are less effective than the thrusts, I have intended to delay the cuts for these; since one, as much as the other, can bring grave danger to the actor when they are performed out of their tempo; and those, as much as these, are well-made when they are made in tempo.
Non perche non siano tanto frequetemente pratticati I Tagli, devo tralascirare la di loro spiegatione, sì per coplire al mio debito, come anche per insegnarli à servirsense à Tempo, acciò lo studioso discepolo possa, con la regolata maniera, sfuggirne il pericolo, & insieme convertirlo in proprio vantaggio. E nè meno, con avertire poco fà, che i Tagli sono meno efficacy delle pute, hò inteso di posponerli à questse; poscia che, cosi gl’uni, come l’altre, possono apportar grave pregiuditio all’Attore, quado sono operate furoi del suo Tempo; e tanto quelli, quanto queste sono bone da farsi, quanod sono fatte à Tempo. [15]
Like Alfieri, Marcelli is quick to note that the cut is slower, larger, and therefore dangerous to make out of tempo. He goes on to say
The cut is called the son of the thrust because it must proceed in second intention in order not to be at risk (making it in first intention) of the evident danger of the opponent’s offense. The reason is that the cut is an action very poor for defense, in itself, as it goes to wound and exposes the whole body in the tempo that it makes its circle. It is not like the thrust that, in going forward and returning back, always moves along a line and keeps the body continually covered under the weapon, and is found in presence of the opponent.
Il Taglio si chiama figlio della punta, perche si deve sequire di Seconda intentione, per no arrischiarsi (facendolo di Prima) ad evidente pericolo dell’offesa dell’avversario. Periòche il Taglio è un’Attione per se stessa molto povera di difesa, nel mentre, che và per offendere, e scopre tutto il corpo nel tempo, che fa il suo circolo; e non è come la punta, la quale hell’andare avanti, e nel tornare in dietro, camina sempre per una linea, e mantiene continuamente il corpo coperto sotto l’armi, e si trova in persenza del nemico. [16]
The rest of the chapter introducing cuts describes the various specific uses and then ends with Marcelli’s suggestion that cuts be reserved largely for ripostes:
In summary all of the past discussion it is gathered that the cut must not be made to occur in the first intention, that is to say, other than as a riposte. This is for two reasons; first, because it is a universal rule of fencing that in all its actions, in order to make them perfect, it is necessary to make them sudden so that the velocity of the movement makes them invisible to the opponent’s eye so that he cannot parry them. If the cut, therefore, is also enumerated among those, and is it inferior in perfection and goodness to none when it is performed with regulation, it must also be based on that universal and invariable maxim of this profession… The second reason for which I advise against the aforesaid decision is because the cut has less measure than the thrust. Therefore, having to strike purposefully with it, it would be necessary to bring the torso very forward to accompany it with the body.
In somma da tutto il passato discorso si raccoglie, che il Taglio non si deve seguire di Prima intentione, che è l’istesso dire, che di risposta. E ciò per due ragioni: la prima, perche è Regola universale della Scherma, che tutte le attioni di essa; per far, che siano perfette, bisogna farle improvise, acciò la velocità del moto re renda invisibile all’occhio del nemico, che non possa pararle; se dunque il Taglio, è ancora numerato trà quelle, & a niuna è inferiore di perfettione, e bontà, quando è operato con regola, deve essere ancora appoggiato sù quella Massima universale, & infallibile di cotcsta Professione… La Seconda ragione, per la quale io consiglio il predetto partito, è, perche il Taglio hà minor misura della Stoccata, e perciò, per dover colpire con esso di proposta, sarebbe necessario di portare avanti assai la vita, e di accompagnarlo co’l corpo. [17]
Mondschein’s chart of weapon & blade specs in his translation of Agrippa parallels other studies on the changing nature of rapier blades over time. [18] There are always exceptions, which as I stated before we must be cautious with, but which are still important. Later period rapiers, generally, sport blades less ideal for cutting than they do thrusting. A week ago today (12 Oct. 2023) Matt Easton shared a beautiful 17th century rapier on his Youtube channel. This is a prime example of late period thrusting blades—its profile will not hold a decent edge. It was not meant to. [19] While many later period blades clearly were meant only for thrusting, it is significant that even when wider blades were in use focus was still more thrust than cut-centric.
An Argument for Looking Across Texts
One of the advantages we enjoy is access to so many period treatises. Hundreds reside on sites like Google Books or archive.org, and more and more are translated and published all the time (though not all are equal in execution). Reading the sources can be difficult, even frustrating, but it is important if we are serious about the “historical” aspect of what we study. Anyone teaching historical fencing should be doing this work. They risk leading students astray if they don’t.
Another plus to reading the texts, and to reading more than one, is that our understanding deepens. As the set of examples demonstrates here, despite the inclusion of the cut and the uses to which it might be put, the rapier was what we say it was, primarily a thrusting weapon. If we are not using this weapon as intended, and worse, if we’re teaching trusting folks to use the rapier improperly, then we’re not teaching historical fencing. Least we are not teaching it well. Instructors owe it to their students to do the hard work and represent what the treatises impart to the best of their ability.
As for the cut in rapier, yes, it existed, but as these examples reveal the cut was, normally, secondary to the thrust. If in one’s bouts there are more cuts than thrusts, it might be worth pausing to examine that. Textual support for it is thin, and as historical fencing—supposedly—looks to the extant works on the subject, that might be cause for concern.
NOTES:
[1] Among the many karmic burdens it seems my lot to carry (and inflict on others on this page) is the perennial issue of failure to appreciate that there’s a difference between making a touch and making a touch without being hit. I have no idea why this is such a tough point, but there it is.
[2] See especially the useful comparison chart in Ken Mondschein’s Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, New York, NY; Italica Press, 2009, 120-127.
[3] I had the pleasure to handle a period 1796 light cavalry sabre a few years back. What struck me immediately, so used to modern trainers and clubs like the Ames 1865 sabre, was how flimsy the blade felt. It was wide—an important fact—but thin by modern standards. It was also far more flexible than I had anticipated. It was easy to appreciate just how nasty one of these would be to face or be struck by. NB: our trainers today are made to last, and, with the expectation of far more edge-to-edge contact than most used in period. A “thin” 1796 would not hold up well to modern bouting, but used against the woolen jackets and leather shakos of retreating infantry, they no doubt did just fine.
[4] Mondschein, Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, 17; p. 26 of 158 in the pdf from archive.org, Agrippa, Trattato di scientia d’arme: con vn dialogo di filosofia, 1553, Prima Parte, Ch. 4.
[5] Mondschein, Fencing: A Renaissance Treatise by Camillo Agrippa, 44; p. 62 of 158 in the pdf from archive.org, Agrippa, Trattato di scientia d’arme: con vn dialogo di filosofia, 1553, Prima Parte, Ch. 20.
[6-8] Tom Leoni, Venetian Rapier, The School, or Salle, Nicoletto Giganti’s 1606 Rapier Fencing Curriculum, Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2010, p. 5; pl. 12 on p. 19; and pl. 14 on p. 21.
[9] Leoni, Venetian Rapier, plates 25 and 26 on pages 36 and 37 respectively.
[10] Tom Leoni, Ridolfo Capoferro’s The Art and Practice of Fencing, Wheaton, IL: Freelance Academy Press, 2011, 18; in the pdf. available via Google Books, Ridolfo Capo Ferro, Gran Simulacro dell’Arte e dell’Uso della Scherma, 1610, 23. Capo Ferro remarks, in the next section, 117, that the cut is useful from the saddle.
[11] Tom Leoni, Ridolfo Capoferro’s The Art and Practice of Fencing, 86; Capo Ferro, Gran Simulacro dell’Arte, 126.
[13] See Leoni’s Alfieri, Part 1, Ch. 5; or p. 92-93 in the pdf. For his definition of stoccata, see Leoni, Venetian Rapier, 57.
[14] Ibid.
[15] Francesco Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, Wichita, KS: Lulu Press, 2019, 181; this passage may be found in Part I, Book II, Ch. XXII, p. 121ff in the pdf.
[16] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, 185; this passage may be found in Part I, Book II, Ch. XXII, p. 126ff in the pdf.
[17] Marcelli, Rules of Fencing, 1686, trans. by Christopher A. Holzman, 186-187; 127 in the pdf.
[18] See A.V.B. Norman, The Rapier and the Smalls-Sword 1460-1820, Reprint, Ken Trotman Publishing, 2019,19ff; Ewart Oakeshott, European Weapons and Armour: From the Renaissance to the Industrial Revolution, Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press, 2000, 136ff; see also Eric Valentine, Rapiers, Harrisburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 1968.
My friend Patrick Bratton recently had Maestro Francesco Loda and Silvia Tomasetti over to teach. Loda has been studying Marcelli, among other works, for a long time and is one of the leading researchers into his system. Enjoy!
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.
Capitale Escrime Historical Fencing 