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I.

The next day I continued my discourse thus:—

“In the assault with its incessant alarms and perilous crises, in encountering the wiles and avoiding the snares of the enemy, those who use the sword find their ‘crowded hour of glorious life,’ the hour crowded with illusions and disenchantments, the rubs of fortune, the ups and downs of victory or defeat.

“What legions of cunning counsels and crafty wiles, from the deep-laid stratagem down to the sudden surprise, one finds marshalled in the text-books, and how unmanageable and superfluous they generally are. All that the Spartan mother said to her son when he was setting out for the wars was:—‘Be bold, be resolute, be cautious.’ Do not her words contain the whole? For all fighting, whether at long range or at close quarters, is very much alike, from schoolboys’ games to the most elaborate military operations; and all the advice of the world may be summed up in the eternal law of attack and defence, which is stated in these four words:—cunning, caution, energy, audacity.

“Deceive your enemy: seize the critical moment to attack him, that is the secret of fighting. Cultivate the mistrust which suspects the hidden snare, the caution which frustrates his plots, combined with the energy and audacity which surmount difficulties; try to encourage in your enemy a spirit of wanton confidence; turn a strong position which you cannot carry by a direct attack; threaten one point when you mean to concentrate your whole strength on another; draw your adversary by a show of weakness to attack you in your strongest position; keep your plans secret; mask your approaches; and then by the sudden impetuosity of your attack take him unawares, and if you cannot secure a victory, contrive a safe retreat. Such from the earliest times have been the methods of the greatest commanders.

“The tactics of the field of battle and the tactics of hand-to-hand fighting are identical, for the simple reason that skill, or strategy, or science, call it what you will, are but different names to express the same idea. These are the sage counsels; the rest belongs to inspiration, the inward monitor which in moments of danger warns us with tenfold insistence, and guides us right.

“Too much stress is laid on education, too little on individual intelligence. The lessons are supposed to have trained and directed this intelligence. But if your pupil is so wanting in intelligence that he cannot enter into the spirit of the game, if he can never rise to the occasion, and never strike out a line of his own, what can you expect? You may advise for ever, but his mind will not respond, he will only listen and forget.

“It is here that the two schools begin to part company. I have already given you a general view of the points in which they differ, and we need not now recur to the consideration of general principles, with which you are already acquainted.

II.

“If we could return to the past, and witness an exhibition of sword-play as it was understood by the professors of only fifty years ago, what a contrast we should find with the style of our own day, even with our most severely classical style. Our methods would certainly be called revolutionary.

“It was usual not so very long since to display upon the bosom a fair red heart, stitched to the fencing jacket, to show plainly for all eyes to see the spot where hits should be placed. Attacks, parries and ripostes were restricted by convention to a very narrow circle. Any hit that went wide of the mark was accounted execrable and received with the most profound contempt. Modern fencing is inclined to be somewhat less fastidious. Hits in the low line are generally acknowledged. But a hit below the belt! ‘You really do not expect me to follow your point down there!’ is still the attitude of most fencers. ‘Call it a hit if you like, but really it is not fencing. A school of arms, you know, is not a school of surgery, you might leave those base regions to the medical students.’

“You smile, but I assure you that they mean it seriously, without the least sarcasm. It is quite true that any wound in that despised region would be mortal almost to a certainty. That is a detail; and they forget that a sword, though it may be a civil and gentlemanly implement, is still a lethal weapon. It really is very strange to admit that it is wrong to disregard the deadly character of the point when aimed in one direction, but to claim that it is right to disregard it when aimed in another. Yet most men cling to this error with the utmost pertinacity.

“That you should despise a hit in the leg or fore-arm I can well understand. By all means concentrate your whole attention on the protection of the parts of the body which contain the vital organs. But not to use your utmost care, your surest parries, your most anxious precautions to defend the trunk,—high lines and low,—always has been and is still a delusion, a delusion which those who attempt to draw an impossible distinction between the assaults of foil-play and real fighting with sharp swords, vainly ask us to accept as an unassailable article of faith.

“There is a real distinction, for after all foil-play can only be an imperfect representation of real fighting. Our object should be to make the resemblance as perfect as possible, and so minimise the chances on which the ignorant and brutal too confidently rely.

“Let them see that you both know the correct answer to a correct combination, and that you are equally prepared to deal with the wild and disorderly antics of an untutored point.

III.

“You may often hear men say:—‘I do that in the fencing room, I should be very sorry to attempt it in a serious fight.’

“Then why attempt it at all? If your judgment tells you that the stroke is good, it is good for all occasions. If it is bad it cannot be justified in any case.

“Always bear in mind that you must pay attention to all thrusts which might prove fatal in a serious encounter, and then if some day you have the misfortune to find a real sword in your hand, you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you are fore-armed by habit against known and familiar dangers. I cannot emphasise this point too strongly.

“In short, the refusal to acknowledge hits however low is a dangerous and a gratuitous mistake. Why should a thrust aimed in that direction not be of its kind as brilliant and meritorious as another? Why should it be boycotted? Is there any reason for this mysterious taboo?”

“The old master who used to teach us fencing at school,” remarked my host, “would fall foul of you with a vengeance, if he heard you talk like that.”

“I do not mean for a moment,” I replied, “that I have any preference for hits in the low line, but rather that I am more afraid of them, because I have fenced too often with fencers good and bad not to know how necessary it is to be on one’s guard against the dangers of wild play.

“For instance, those who make a practice of straightening their arm as they retire nearly always drop their hand, and the point of their weapon, whether they wish it or no, is necessarily directed towards the low line. It is equally inevitable that the same part should be threatened by those who rightly or wrongly reverse the lunge by throwing the left foot back on your attack, at the same time stooping forwards, so as to let your point pass over their head; and ignorant fencers nearly always hit you there, quite innocently and unintentionally.

“You should therefore guard that part of the body as strictly as you guard the chest, and, by a parity of reasoning, when you meet an adversary who neglects to protect the low line annoy him in that region frequently.

IV.

“It often happens that things that are most neglected in one age become the ruling fashions of the next, just as things once highly honoured may often fall into complete discredit.

“Take this instance. In an old and dusty folio, entitled ‘AcadÉmie de l’EspÉe[2],’ which I discovered yesterday banished to the darkest corner of the library, I found several pages entirely devoted to the art ‘of delivering a stroke with the point at the right eye.’ The point is specified because in those days cuts and thrusts were held in equal favour.

“What do you say to a thrust in the eye? And yet if you will consult my folio you will find a collection of plates illustrating all the passes by which this brilliant stroke may be brought off.

“You know what is thought now-a-days of a hit in the face, that is to say on the mask; we are taught,—again quite wrongly,—not to take the smallest notice of it. And this leads me to hope that some day we may yet see a revolution, by which the vulgar belly will claim its rights and in its turn drive out the lordly bosom. It will be rated too highly then, as it is too much degraded now. But when did revolutions ever know where to stop?

“For the assault the one thing needful is self-reliance. Trust to your own resources, and do not imagine that you have to repeat word for word the lesson that you have got by heart from your book, but rather look for inspiration to the resources of your native wit.

V.

“If any one came to me for advice, the course I should recommend, not as a hard and fast rule, but in a general way, would be something of this sort:—Act as much as possible on the defensive, keep out of distance, in order to prevent your opponent from attacking you without shifting his position, and in order to compel him to advance on your point, the most dangerous thing he can do, and without a doubt the most difficult art to acquire. If you make up your mind to stand your ground whatever happens, and to attack always in exact measure, instead of retiring and advancing with quick and irregular movements, and instead of trying to surprise and overwhelm your adversary with combinations for which he is unprepared, you are to my mind simply acting without the least judgment, or rather you are making a perverse blunder.

“Then I should go on to say, always supposing that I was asked for my opinion:—Make a practice of stepping back as you form the parry, if only half a pace. There is everything to be gained by it, and there is no objection to it that I can see, unless it be the strong objection that your opponent will feel to being considerably embarrassed on every possible occasion.

“The advantages, on the other hand, are manifold. By stepping back you increase the effectiveness of the parry, because by withdrawing the body you, in a sense, double the rapidity of the hand. If the attack has been delivered with sufficient rapidity to beat the parry, by retiring you parry twice, the first time with your blade, with which you try to find your adversary’s weapon, the second time by removing the body to a greater distance, with the result that the point, which would have hit you if you had stood your ground, does not reach your chest.

“By employing this manoeuvre against simple attacks you counteract rapidity of execution, and by employing it against composite attacks or against feints you encounter the last movement forcibly. It is also of service in screening one from attacks made by drawing back the arm, for it often happens if you stand your ground, that your hand starts too soon, and your sword encounters nothing but empty air. It has the further advantage of increasing the fencer’s confidence in himself.

“Do not imagine that it hinders the riposte. It renders it easier and more certain. Nearly always, when a fencer has lunged right out, and—as often happens—does not recover immediately, the two opponents are so close together that it is very difficult to get in the riposte without shortening the arm, and so giving an opportunity for a remise.

“The parry and riposte without breaking ground are certainly of value, I do not dispute that, but against the fencers of all sorts, whom you have to meet, and who offer all sorts and kinds of difficulty, they should not be employed except occasionally, and only when they are almost certain to succeed. To my mind it would be dangerous and unreasonable to adopt them as the systematic basis of your play.

VI.

“My reason for insisting so strongly on this point is that I have nearly always found that it is thought to be very magnificent to stand up to the parry, whereas breaking ground is regarded as the shift of a man hard pressed, a last resort when the hand has proved too slow, or when it is necessary to retrieve an error of judgment.

“Now my plan provides you with a second line of defence, without infringing any of the recognised canons; it is consistent with the most classical style, and with perfect control of your weapon. And one may well ask why, when two chances of safety are at your disposal, you should deliberately resolve to avail yourself of only one of them?

“I should accordingly reverse the usual advice, thus:—

‘As a general rule and on principle break ground as you parry, either by a few inches or by a clear pace, according to the momentum of your opponent’s attack, for by breaking ground I do not mean to say that you are to avoid a hit by continual and precipitate bolting.

‘Sometimes stand firm, but only when you are sure that you have at last induced your opponent to develope an attack, which you have long been waiting for him to make.’

VII.

“Unless I know my man, or have come to an understanding with him beforehand, I have very little faith in a prolonged concatenation of parries, ripostes and counter-ripostes, and here again I should try to relieve the mind, as much as may be, from an unnecessary burden, by getting rid of complications instead of multiplying them.

“I look at it in this way. If a fencer has to concern himself with the different lines in which he may be attacked, he must be in a state of continual suspense. He will be continually asking himself whether the attack is coming in the inside line or the outside, in the high line or the low. Thus, in order to parry to advantage and correctly he must wait until his enemy’s object is clearly disclosed. Take the case of a simple attack promptly executed; it is obvious that the attacker must gain a considerable start. True, there are a few fencers, but very few, gifted with so fine a sense of touch, that they can divine their adversary’s intention, and read his inmost thought.

“Less gifted mortals should be content with a parry which mechanically traverses all the lines. Such a parry must of necessity encounter the adverse blade forcibly in whichever line the enemy has selected for his attack. When once you have acquired this universal parry the strain is lessened, your mind is more at ease, you are more sure of yourself and feel that you can act with certainty and decision.

VIII.

“There are two kinds of parry, among those which I enumerated the other day, which answer this purpose equally well. The first consists in combining the parry of tierce or counter tierce with a cut over and beat in quarte; the second in parrying counter tierce and counter quarte in succession, and vice versa, or counter quarte and circle.

“These covering parries though they are technically composite, in practice are fairly simple, and rapidly pass through all the lines that are open to attack. Choose the one which you prefer instinctively, which is another way of saying the one that comes most naturally to your hand. Or, if you like, use sometimes one, sometimes the other.”

“But what if this parry is deceived?” asked the Comte de R.

“Well,” I answered, “‘Deception no cheating’ is the fencer’s motto. There is no such thing as an attack that cannot be parried, or a parry that cannot be deceived. Sooner or later the fatal moment comes, and superior activity or superior cunning prevails.

“If any professor can invent an attack which it is impossible to resist, or a parry which it is impossible to deceive, I should advise him to take very good care to secure the patent rights of his invention without a moment’s delay. He would certainly have no difficulty in floating a company to put it on the market in all the capitals of Europe.

“I have already expressed my opinion that a fencer’s strength lies much more in presence of mind and in quickness of hand than in a very varied play. This is so true that the majority of fencers, amateur and professional alike, affect certain favourite strokes; they have favourite attacks, favourite parries and ripostes, and always come back to them as to old friends on whose services they can confidently rely. In the course of an assault the same stroke is often repeated in many different ways; the shape it takes changes with the changing incidents of the fight, and accordingly as it is adapted to suit the peculiarities of the individual against whom it is employed. That is the great beauty of a stroke in fencing.

“Some of you, I know, are not fencers, but there are one or two connoisseurs present, who have studied the art, and are experts. It is to them that I now appeal. As an illustration of my argument I will take the most simple parry, the parry of quarte, and I will ask them if it is not the fact that it constantly changes and undergoes surprising transformations? Sometimes it is a light touch, sometimes a vigorous, almost a violent blow; it may form a high parry, it may form a low parry, it serves for every purpose and answers every call that can be made upon it. Watch the blade as the parry is formed;—perhaps it just meets the adverse blade and suddenly quits it or it may hold and dominate it.

“It is this power of varying the stroke and transforming it at will that marks the true fencer.

“The man, I repeat, who is content to recite his lesson by rote, however well he has learnt it, can never be anything more than a school-boy; call him that or an accomplished parrot, whichever he prefers.

IX.

“I was reading one of the ancient treatises, which are reposing peacefully on your dusty shelves, my dear C., when I came across the following passage, which rather struck my fancy:—

The law of defence declares that your motions should be the natural motions of a man’s body. But, however sacred the dignity of law may be, nevertheless you ought to consider that necessity knows no law, and that it overrides even the weightiest laws of human contrivance.

“That was written in 1600. The maxim is a trifle too sweeping for general application, but it seems to me to be a good and serviceable maxim when applied to sword-play.

“My remarks are perhaps somewhat disconnected. I am simply giving you my ideas at random, as they occur to me. But my main object is to direct your attention to the points which appear to me of some importance.

“After the parries come the ripostes. On this subject a few words will suffice. Never forget that the parry and riposte are twin sisters, whose lives are so closely bound up in each other, that they cannot exist apart. Riposte and parry ought to be so closely allied that the riposte may seem to be the second part of the parry. Therefore, as a general principle, riposte direct, in the line in which you have found the blade. Changing the line wastes time, and gives your adversary an opportunity to pull himself together and make a remise or renew the attack. Never, on any consideration, allow yourself to draw back your arm, for then your riposte is lost,—as well throw your purse in the gutter.

“If your judgment tells you that your adversary is waiting for your direct riposte, and has attacked you with the object of drawing it, or if you have noticed that he covers himself effectively on that side, while he leaves you a clear opening elsewhere, then avoid the trap by a disengagement or a cut-over; but only make one feint, never more than one. For, if you do, though you may succeed once, you will probably find out later that your success was dearly bought. It is always wise, you know, to count the cost, and economise your resources, unless you wish to take the straight road to ruin.

X.

“Our chat to-night,” I remarked after a moment’s silence, “if it has not been very long, has at least been very serious. I only complain that you have not sufficiently interrupted me.”

“We have been listening to you,” said the Comte de R., “very attentively, because you warned us of the importance of your subject.”

“Very well, my dear R.,” I replied. “Now just imagine you are in court, and let us hear how you would sum up the case for the benefit of the jury.”

“I fancy I can do that rather well,” answered R. “Let me try:—The lesson, you say, is the school-room, the assault is the fencer’s career, a free field for enterprise, where he must stand or fall by dint of his own unaided genius. The only counsels, which are worth anything, are those which have governed attack and defence from time immemorial. For attack, the union of desperate energy with cool and calculating caution; for defence, firmness, wariness, self-reliance.

“Then, passing from the general question to points of detail, or execution, I should add:—It is a great mistake, a piece of inconceivable folly, to have boycotted, to use your own expression, hits in the very low lines, because the fencer is prevented thereby from acquiring the habit of strictly guarding those parts of the body, where in a serious encounter any wound would probably prove fatal.

“As a general rule step back as you form the parry, to make assurance doubly sure, and to give greater freedom to your riposte. Stand your ground only when you think you have judged the stroke to a nicety, and when you hold your adversary in a tight place, from which he cannot escape.”

“I am infinitely obliged to you, my dear R.,” I remarked. “You have summarised most excellently the points that I have worked out in detail, and you have exactly caught my meaning.”

“Very good of you to say so,” answered R., “but let me finish:—In order to keep your wits about you, and to avoid trying to think of too many things at once, adopt as a rule a universal parry, which will cut all the lines, and must meet and drive away your opponent’s blade. Always riposte direct, and be careful on your riposte to avoid making feints which expose you to a remise or to a renewal of the attack. Does that satisfy you?”

“You have taken us over the ground most admirably, my dear Professor. To-morrow, I propose to discuss the attack, and in this connection we shall have to consider what is usually called ‘le sentiment du fer,’ the fencer’s sense of touch.

“To this sovereign principle we are asked to swear allegiance, as though it occupied the throne by divine right. I shall ask you to consider the pretensions of another claimant of very noble lineage to a share of the royal honours.”

A riposte in tierce.