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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.”

“Quite so,” exclaimed Monsieur de C., “that is exactly my opinion.”

“One moment,” I said, “I have not quite done. I was going to say, that I have very little faith in the stories one hears of the regimental fencing master being run through by the recruit. Such an event may happen, just as a chimney-pot may fall on your head when you are walking in the street, but I fancy that if you were to apply the rule of three to all the cases the result would not exactly support the paradox.

“There is a class of fencers who are thoroughly—in fact too thoroughly—convinced that they are very dangerous fellows, and that they are never hit. You repeatedly come across this sort of thing in the fencing room:—Your opponent delivers an attack which you parry; he stays on the lunge doubled up, with his body dropped forward; your riposte lands perhaps in his mask, perhaps in his back, or arm. Thereupon he recovers and remarks with a negligent air: ‘hit in the mask,’ ‘hit in the back,’ ‘arm only,’ as the case may be.

“Oh, only in the mask! But, Sir, the point would have run you through the head and traversed your brain. In fact it would have been quite as effective as a hit in the chest, which penetrated your lungs. The other would have gone six inches into your back; while the third would have pierced your arm and run you through the chest afterwards. You offer your head, back, or arm instead of your chest, I hit the part exposed and am quite satisfied. You cannot evade or parry a thrust by substituting for the part that would otherwise be hit some other part, which you do not attempt to cover; all that you do is to offer an exchange.

VI.

“Do you suppose that these fencers would pursue the same tactics, if they had to face a naked point instead of the button of a foil, and that they would fancy themselves out of danger, if they laid themselves open to be run through the head or back or neck? Such wounds are not trivial and cannot be ignored. A sharp point is a peremptory fact, which makes short work of illusions.

“Or again, do you imagine that anyone would be very anxious in a real fight to run the risk of double hits, by which he might succeed in inflicting a serious wound, but only at the expense of being run through the body himself? No one would resort to such desperate measures as these, unless there was absolutely nothing else left to be done.

“This is so thoroughly true, that if you set two men to fight in a fencing-room with blunt swords, you notice at once that the assault is something very different from what it would have been with mere foils. You might almost fancy that the swords, though they can no longer wound, are still possessed by the spirit of mortal combat, and retain some reminiscence of the real thing, of naked chest opposed to naked steel.

“There is none of that brilliant dash, none of those brilliant strokes that are usually more conspicuous for temerity than judgment. The fight is a sham fight still, but the players cannot help taking it seriously. Each is saying to himself:—‘Now let me see what would happen, if we were in earnest.’ The different shape of the hilt, the harsh grating of the steel affect the imagination. ‘Watch that fellow, see what he is up to, make him keep his distance, give him something to think about.’ That is the sort of caution that the swords are whispering.

“You may easily satisfy yourselves of the truth of my remarks the next time you have an opportunity of watching a bout of this sort. And if there is so great a difference between simple foils and blunt swords, you will have no difficulty in believing that the difference between blunt swords and sharp is far greater. Wild play subsides, and those who were willing to charge blindly, when they risked nothing more than a dent in a leather jacket, prefer to study ways and means a little more closely. It is a very natural prompting of the instinct. The rule is almost universal, but there are occasional exceptions, which you may be called upon to face, and if you do not want to be taken by surprise, you had better make yourself acquainted with them beforehand for what they are worth.”

“Then you approve,” said M. de C., “of occasional practice with muffled swords?”

“Not only of occasional but of constant practice, and that not in the assault only, but in the lesson too. The greater weight of the sword and the wider blade, which is straight and less whippy than the foil, steady the hand, keep it in position, and give a truer aim.”

VII.

“I notice,” observed one of my friends, “that you have said nothing about left-handed fencers.”

“No,” I answered. “The fact is, there is hardly anything to say, and even the text-books, which do not usually err on the side of brevity, devote very little space to them. For there is really no particular rule, which applies to them exclusively.”

“But surely they are very difficult?”

“Yes in a way no doubt they are, though one of my friends, a left-hander of course, used to say that the supposed difficulty is only a convenient excuse invented by right-handed fencers. His suggestion is more witty than true, and I am willing to allow, without hesitation, that left-handers really are puzzling to those who are not accustomed to fence with them. Their only real advantage is that they have more opportunities of fencing against right-handers, than right-handers have of fencing against them. When once you are used to them the difficulty vanishes. The left-hander on the contrary, when it comes to fighting, is never rid of the far graver risk which he takes by exposing his left side.

“I may add that the left-hander’s advantage, which consists entirely in his incognito, would exist no longer, if the professors,—who I hope may take the hint,—would make a practice of giving lessons occasionally with the left hand. Some of them do so already, and I congratulate them on their good sense. If you come to think of it, there is not a single left-handed thrust or parry, which cannot be equally well executed by a right-handed player. Only, from want of practice, the latter finds it more difficult to direct his point because the lines are reversed. Quarte becomes sixte, and vice versa. The left-hander prefers to take the inside engagement, that is to say quarte. This line suits him better, and accordingly it is good policy not to let him take it without a struggle. It is usually more difficult to hit him in the outside line.

“So much for general principles, for of course left-handed play varies as much as right-handed, although the contrary is sometimes maintained. But if all left-handers were providentially made alike, one would think that it could not be very difficult to get to know the pattern by heart.

VIII.

“Well, you must admit that in the course of my remarks I try not to pass over anything that is likely to interest those who have, or those who should, could, or would have a fancy for sword-play.

“My object is to bring out the essential features in clear relief, and I intentionally omit the thousand and one minute details, which would overcrowd my canvas, and prevent you from properly appreciating the leading features. These refinements, which come with experience and habit, cannot be forced, they must be slowly acquired by the friction of the blades, by meeting all sorts and conditions of fencers, by facing the unforeseen and sudden perils, which confront you just when they are least expected.

“You know how awkward a young fellow is when he makes his first appearance in society. When he finds himself in a drawing-room, he is shy and uncomfortable, he does not know how to sit down or how to stand up or how to talk, but presently without consulting any professor, simply, so to speak, by the daily friction of his common intercourse with other people, older and more experienced than himself, he acquires confidence, ease, address, manners, and so forth.

“It is just the same with fencers. Craft, finesse, tact, and judgment come by degrees, as wings grow out of feathers; but do not forget that the lesson and the master’s pad are your first instructors and must not be neglected. To neglect them would be ungrateful, and ingratitude is always base. Besides you cannot afford it.

“I am sure I don’t know what else I can find to say; I shall be in a difficulty to-morrow, unless you promise to help me out.”