Secrets of the Sword
IV
“I have endeavoured to state as clearly as possible the advantages that a weak fencer may derive from this system, when he is opposed to a combatant more experienced and more skilful than himself; but further than that, I believe that the skilful and experienced fencer has also something to gain by adopting this much despised method. I have myself never been able to discover that it is incompatible with perfect ‘form,’ or that it tends to wild play. It opens a wider field, it shows the fallacy of certain ideas, which have been wrongly supposed to be unassailable, and it furnishes a whole range of new situations, another world to conquer.
“What ground is there, I would ask my critic, for your assertion that I must be fencing blindly, because my sword does not happen to be in constant touch with yours? Why do you say that mutual hits must occur more frequently? If you are talking of a pair of duffers, who charge each other blindly, you may trust them to commit every possible blunder, whether they join blades or not.
“But why should you exalt so highly what you call the faculty of touch, the power of judging the blade by touch, and be so ready to degrade that other sovereign principle, which may be called the faculty of sight, the power of judging the sword by eye? Can you deny the controlling influence of the eye, the authority that belongs to it? Do you believe that the eye cannot be trained to the same degree of nicety as the hand? Why, when you have these two forces at your disposal, are you content to let one of them do duty for both?
“You may keep your opponent at his distance by the menace of your nimble point, which flashes in his sight incessantly; while your watchful eye follows the movements of his sword and reads his thought, as well as if the blades were crossed and questioned each other by the language of the steel. Then, when it suits your convenience, when you see a favourable opportunity, when you have by a rapid calculation reckoned up the situation, weighed the chances, taken everything into account, then is the time to offer your sword, then is the time to engage your adversary, or by bold decided movements to get control of his blade.”
V
“But,” objected one of my hearers, “what if your adversary adopts the same tactics, and refuses the engagement?”
“That is where science and strength, skill and personal superiority tell. What is fencing if it is not the art of leading your opponent into a trap, the art of making him think that he will be attacked in one place, when you mean to hit him in another? the skill to outwit his calculations, to master his game, paralyse his action, outmanœuvre him, reduce him to impotence? – That is the sort of thing the accomplished fencer sets himself to do.
“Your adversary, you say, will not come to an engagement. Very good; then you must force him to it by feints, or by threatening to attack. Either he attempts to parry or he attempts to thrust. In either case you get command of his blade by a simple or by a double beat, as the case may be, and then you drive your attack home.
“It holds good with fencing, as it does with all warlike measures, whether on a large scale or small, that you must not wait for what you want to be brought to you; you must learn to help yourself; take no denial, but by force or fraud get possession.
“Now, I appeal to you all as critics, not on a technical question of fencing, on which no one can be expected to give an opinion without a thorough knowledge of the art, but on a simpler matter. I will contrast two assaults. Imagine that you are the spectators. The first is between two fencers of the classical school, to use the conventional phrase.
“The swords are crossed, and the two adversaries, both gifted with consummate skill, stand facing each other, foot to foot. Feint follows feint, and parry parry; a simple attack is delivered, it is succeeded by a combination. The attitudes of both are irreproachable; the body always upright; the quick hand with exquisite finesse manipulates the dancing point by subtle and accurate finger-play. You admire the exhibition; for a moment you follow the quick passage of the blades, but your sympathies are not aroused, you are not carried away, or enthralled in spite of yourself in a fever of anxious expectation.
“Now turn to the other assault. This also is fought by two skilful fencers, but they go to work on quite a different system.
“Look at the combatants. Instead of standing foot to foot, and blade to blade, they are out of distance, on the alert, ready to strike but cautious. Their eyes follow each other, and watch for the tell-tale movement. Suddenly they close, the blades cross, interlock, and break away. That was a searching thrust! But by a sudden retreat, a rapid movement, perhaps a leap backwards, the fencer evades the hit, and is ready on the instant to give back the point. This assault is a battle between two men, who mean hard fighting, keen swordsmen, dodgy, artful, and slippery, who bring to bear all their science, employ every trick they can think of, and throw themselves body and soul into the fight.
“Now let me ask you, which of these two assaults is the more interesting to follow?
VI
“I remember an assault, in M. Pons’s rooms, between one of my friends and a man who was generally considered and really was a strong fencer, although he insisted on clinging to that mischievous routine, which with some men is a superstition.
“They came on guard, and my friend, after crossing swords to show that he was ready to defend himself, quitted the engagement, attacked, and hit his opponent several times.
‘But, Sir,’ his opponent objected, ‘you do not join blades.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Unless you join blades, how am I to fence?’
‘That is your look-out.’
‘But you must join blades.’
‘Why must I? My only object, I assure you, is to endeavour, as well as I am able, to disconcert my opponent, and as I find that this plan disconcerts you considerably, I see all the more reason why I should continue to employ it.’
‘That may be,’ rejoined the other sticking to his point, ‘but if you do not join blades, it is not fencing.’
‘Well,’ said my friend, ‘let us try for a moment to discuss the matter. Tell me, are my hits improperly delivered?’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Did I stab, or come in with a round-arm?’
‘Certainly not’
‘Is there anything wrong with my parries? Are they too wide, or what? Is my hand too heavy, or do you complain of mutual hits?’
‘No, that is not the point.’
‘Then, what more do you want?’
‘I want you to join blades.’
‘To oblige you?’
‘No, I do not say that. But unless you join blades it is not fencing.’
“And say what one might, nothing would make him budge from his everlasting axiom.
“It is always so, whenever an attempt is made to interfere with the traditions of any art whatever. The man who tries to strike out a new line cannot fail to disturb the tranquil repose of ancient custom. The conservatives resist, they object to interference, they feel that their placid triumphs, their cherished habits are threatened. The regular routine, which has been drilled into them, till they know it like an old tune of which every turn and every note is familiar, will be unsettled. They have good reason to be annoyed, but that does not prove them to be right.
VII
“At the present day people have gradually come to admit that there is some good in these innovations, which have suddenly enlarged the scope of fencing. ‘Fencing,’ they say, ‘is more difficult than it used to be, but less graceful.’ Are these qualities then necessarily incompatible with each other?
“In order to make a clear distinction between those who run after strange gods, and the ‘auld lichts’ who have preserved intact the primitive tradition of the true faith, a phrase has been invented to describe the backsliders. They are said to be ‘difficult fencers.’
“Now what are these words supposed to mean? Do they imply that a graceful fencer is not difficult? No doubt, classical grace and a masterly style are very fine things, which I, for one, can appreciate and admire. But if I am asked to choose between the graceful and the difficult fencer, – if it is not possible to be both at once, – I much prefer the latter, for I suppose that ‘difficult’ can only mean difficult to hit, difficult to defeat.
“But there is no need to suppose that difficulty is incompatible with grace, at least with grace of a certain kind, the grace of manly and robust energy, which sits well upon the fighting man, such grace as in old times so well became the gallant chevaliers, who illumined by their prowess the spacious days of ruff and rapier.
“We have here another of the important points of difference between the two schools. Some people treat the newcomer like an inconvenient guest, whom they cannot very well turn out of doors. But they may as well make up their minds that the intruder can take care of himself, and will find room for his ample proportions in the domestic circle. He has come to stay, and whether they like him or not he means to make one of the party.
“The axiom – ‘Hit and do not be hit back’ ought, in spite of everything that can be said against it, to be the motto of all who fight with the sword. Science may teach how to hit well, but its first lesson should be, how not to be hit at all by the arrant duffer, who uses his sword by the light of nature. When swordsmanship fails to keep this end in view, we may be very sure that it is off the track. ‘Business first’ must be the invariable rule.
VIII
“There was a time when the mask was not worn for the assault. And I remember reading some time ago in the Encyclopaedia, published about the middle of last century (1755), under the word mask the following remarks: —
‘In foil-play Fencers have sometimes carried precaution so far as to wear a mask, to protect themselves from possible hits in the face. It is true that those who have acquired little skill in the Art may chance to wound their Adversary by a clumsy thrust, or cause themselves to be wounded by throwing up the point with a bad parry. It is however never worn at the present day.’
“This encyclopaedia evidently reflects the ideas which were generally accepted at the time. To wear a mask in a bout with the foils was as much as to say that you considered your opponent a duffer, and was not far short of an insult.
“Fencing in those days was nothing but a formal series of attacks, feints, parries and ripostes, well understood and defined by the code; every movement led up to some other movement, which was rigidly prescribed. If a fencer had ventured on a straight thrust while the feints were in progress, instead of elaborately following the blade through every turn of the labyrinth, he would have been considered an unmannerly cub, and sent back to study his rudiments. It was only in the last years of the period signalised by the famous Saint-Georges that the mask came into general use. Even then the only masks used were made of tin, and the professors’ view was that such safeguards were permissible for rough players. But it so happened that three professors each lost an eye. And their respect for ancient tradition did not go far enough to induce them to risk losing the one that remained. After that the wire mask was generally adopted, but not without regret.
IX
“Every generation takes the march of progress one stage further, or at least modifies existing institutions in its own way. It is not so long since the fanciful multiplication of feints, of which I was speaking just now, was considered the correct game; the right thing to do was to follow the blade until you found it. At the present day it is no longer part of the necessary ritual to follow always every vagary. Suppose you feint inordinately, I suddenly let drive with opposition of the hand, or simply straighten my arm and hit you with a stop thrust, which interferes rather effectively with your trickiness, and spoils the magnificent flourishes of your arabesques. These hits are now recognised and regularly taught. If need be, instead of lunging you slip the left foot to the rear, throw the left shoulder well back, so as to be out of the way, and drop the body, in order to avoid being hit yourself.
“The system of our fathers, which in many respects was excellent but at the same time was remarkable for several very odd and very peremptory theories, has in many instances been successfully assailed. Perhaps in some cases its assailants have themselves been too peremptory, and this has led to that loss of temper and angry recrimination, by which the debate has been embittered.
“But I must not tax your patience further to-night. We had better adjourn the discussion until to-morrow; otherwise you will be tired of hearing me talk, and I am sincerely anxious to command your whole attention.”
The Sixth Evening
I
“Fencing,” I began, when we had all reassembled as usual, “is such an inexhaustible topic, that I could not, if I would, pretend to go minutely into all its practical details. No one gifted with a modicum of sense, a little determination, and a dash of enterprise, can fail to strike out a line for himself. I am obliged, as you see, to content myself with a general view. For we cannot consider the assault, and especially an assault in which the combatants use their heads as well as their hands, without assuming that our young friend has gained some science, and has become an educated fencer.
“I have already spoken of parries and ripostes, and you have seen that the lesson teaches how these should be employed. You know what use may be made of the sense of touch, the power of feeling the blade, and of the electric influence of the eye. It remains to say a few words on the subject of attacks.
“It is more dangerous to attack than to parry. Instead of waiting you let yourself go. And the great difficulty is to know how to let yourself go far enough without going too far.
“Remember that discretion is the better part of valour; but do not confound discretion with timidity. I have already said that you ought to be able and willing, and more than that, that you ought to make it your object to encounter every sort of style, even those styles which are hardly worthy or – to be quite candid – are quite unworthy of the name. As a matter of fact there are such styles, and therefore it is just as well not to allow their exponents to become conceited, or to imagine that by any chance they can possibly be effective.
“It is important for the prestige of fencing, that those who have no knowledge of their weapon, or at most a mere smattering, should not be allowed to suppose that they can depend upon mere energy and a blind rush to defend themselves against a man who has been trained to the skilful handling of the sword. Confidence, that mainest mainstay of defence, ought not to be possible for the ignorant fencer; it ought to be the peculiar privilege of the trained and scientific expert.
II
“To come back to the various situations which may occur in the assault. If I see a fencer, as soon as he falls on guard, engage swords, and at once hurriedly let fly thrust after thrust, attack following attack in quick succession, if he neglects to test the length of his opponent’s sword by gradually feeling his way, by employing all the necessary tactics of the preliminary skirmish, by prospecting for information and discreetly sounding the enemy, then to my mind he may be classed at once. He may have some dexterity, a certain power of execution, but by the mere act of joining blades he may be set down as a blind fencer, far more truly than the man who keeps out of distance, and chooses the proper moment at one time to refuse, at another, when least expected, to take the engagement, or to seize his opponent’s blade with courage and resolution.”
“I suppose,” remarked the Comte de R., “that, a few years hence, it is highly probable that a new set of theories will be invented to supersede these modern ideas, which are so hotly disputed now, and they in their turn will be considered out of date.”
“No doubt that is to be expected in the nature of things. The form may or rather certainly will change, but the substance will be unaltered. Let me submit evidence to prove it. I mentioned the other day some old books on sword-play which I hoped to look through. I will only refer to them for one moment. I managed to read them all, and dreary reading it was, but I got through them, being supported by a conscientious sense of duty, and I unearthed among others the two following passages.
“The first on the subject of Approaches was written in the seventeenth century, that is to say, it is about two hundred years old: —
‘The reason why you must make your steps of unequal Measure is that thereby you always hold your Adversary in Suspense and uncertain what you would be at. For if you always go about your business of a set way and with a set regularity of step, it may happen that the Enemy will make his reckoning so exactly, that he can direct his sword not only at the place where he sees you to be, but even at that place to which he knows you will presently come, whereof by this means he is hindered.’
“One might suppose that this was written yesterday. Could any professor, however skilful, put the point better or more logically? The weapons however were very different from ours, heavy cut and thrust rapiers, wielded sometimes in one hand, sometimes in both; but the laws of judgment, caution, and strategy were the same, and will be the same a hundred years hence.
“To prove once more that this new school, which a few years since was received with a howl of abuse, really did not advance such very extravagant doctrines, and that the power of eye, which we were discussing yesterday, is intimately connected with the power of touch, I have made a note of these other few lines, still on the subject of attacks: —
‘It follows that the great gain that Science gives is Security in making your Approaches, which cannot be obtained except you thoroughly comprehend the Importance both of Touch and Eye; and you may rest assured that bodily activity and readiness of hand are alike as nothing when weighed against a good Approach.’
“And we are reluctantly obliged to admit that after all our original ideas have been anticipated, and we stand convicted of plagiarism.
“I might revenge myself for the trouble I have taken to ransack these ancient folios, by inflicting upon you any number of quotations, but I will be merciful, and am content to have demonstrated that the ideas that are supposed to be most radical are often, when they come to be examined, most truly conservative.”
III
“I have another question for you,” continued the Comte de R. “You were speaking the other day of feints and stop thrusts. Of course it was ridiculous to expect an opponent to follow every gyration, which you chose to describe with the point of your sword, but don’t you think that nowadays the practice of straightening the arm on every possible occasion is utterly overdone?”
“No doubt it is by some men – overdone, or rather very badly done, which amounts to the same thing. ‘Ne quid nimis’ you know is a good motto, and I quite agree with you, however little you may like it, that this movement, which comes more by instinct than by intention, is now the refuge of those who cannot parry; but, mind this, it is a refuge, from which it is often very difficult to dislodge them. I quite admit that those who straighten the arm without any justification are hopelessly unscientific, but they present a difficulty to surmount, which requires serious attention.
“Let me explain before going on. There is a distinction to be made between stop thrusts, and time thrusts. The stop thrust is taken, when your opponent advances incautiously, or when he draws back his arm while executing a complicated attack, whenever in fact he makes a movement which leaves him exposed. The time thrust on the other hand, correctly speaking, is a parry of opposition, – the most dangerous of all parries, for if it fails it leaves you absolutely exposed and at the mercy of your opponent. I have seen it taught in the lesson by every master (as an exercise no doubt), but I have hardly ever seen a master put it into practice in the assault. The thrust has nothing to recommend it, but on the contrary it is to be condemned on many grounds. I should like to see it ignominiously expelled from the fencing room, as the buyers and sellers were expelled from the temple.
IV
“Do you follow the distinction? A time thrust is taken on the final movement of an attack, when you think you know exactly what is coming, and can judge with certainty in what line the point will be delivered. Very well, then parry instead of timing; for if you are wrong – and who is not sometimes? – you can at any rate have recourse to another parry. Whereas the time thrust, when misjudged, results in a mutual hit, and for one that is good tender how much base metal you will put into circulation. The stop thrust, which is taken, as I have said, on the opponent’s advance, is less dangerous. Therefore never attack a man, who straightens his arm on every occasion, without making sure of his blade, and you need have no fear of the result.
“It is quite true that the practice of straightening the arm is much more prevalent than it used to be; simply because this style of play, which is of great antiquity, had gone out of fashion, and given place to another method, which in its turn was overdone, – the method of feints and flourishes.
“So too, the trick of reversing the lunge by throwing back the left foot and dropping the body, to allow the attack to pass over your head, is not an invention of the ‘Romantic’ school, as it has been ridiculously christened. It is an old trick, a ruse of great antiquity, which may or at all events ought to be found in Homer. Still, unless your opponent drives you to it by wild and frantic rushes, it is a stroke to be used sparingly, and with the object of letting him know that you are ready to receive him. By this means you will stop him from rushing at you on every possible occasion. I like to see a stop thrust correctly taken, always provided that I do not see others in the course of the same assault taken incorrectly, – for then it is obvious that the correct thrust was a simple fluke.
V
“I am speaking now from the scientific standpoint. Perhaps I can put my point more clearly. If my opponent says: – ‘I don’t profess to be scientific; I simply defend myself by the light of nature,’ he may do what he likes, I shall not complain of his mistakes; he is perfectly within his rights and knows no better. But the expert fencer has no business to make mistakes, or at least he should try to avoid them as far as he can.
“Even at the risk of being lynched for my unorthodox opinions, I should venture to say to the would-be fencer: – ‘Above all things make yourself dangerous. Be ‘a difficult fencer,’ since that is the stereotyped phrase. Without it there is no salvation; your guns are not shotted, your performance is mere fire-works.’
“But be careful not to give these words a wider application than they are meant to carry. All that I would say is this: – that you are to follow your natural instinct, to trust your impulse, to be yourself and not your master’s puppet. I do not mean to propound an acrobatic theory of fencing, or to recommend a meaningless, objectless, indiscriminate charging about, like the convulsive struggles of a wild beast, that has received its death wound. It would be as wrong to take such extravagant exceptions for your model, as it would be unfair to argue from them in order to demonstrate the futility of the new school.
“No doubt fencers of this kind, – they call themselves fencers, – may score an occasional hit, for, as I have had occasion to remark already, there is always a certain amount of luck in fencing; but this sort of thing is not fencing; it is much more like mere brutal fisticuffs. Such eccentric methods are of no importance, they are not based on any sort of principle, but are the mere outcome of ignorance; they belong to no school and have no permanent value. But it does not do to despise an unbeaten enemy. Therefore confront these methods and defeat them first; you can afford to despise them afterwards.”