New lessons in working in historical swordsmanship

We did more work on Capo Ferro last night; this time, we looked at one of the more unusual plates, and worked through the interpretation of the movements. I'll write more later, when I have the books in front of me.

Interpretation of Historical Swordfighting: Beyond the Practical (Part 1)

Fencing practice last night: my Don and I took time to go over some questions I've had about some historical sword-fighting techniques.

1: Some people who practice an Italian style of fighting advocate a stance that modern fighters would consider unusual. The stance involves a stretched-out (some would consider it hyper-extended) front leg, with the knee seemingly locked in place. Some students look at plates in Capo Ferro's manual, and claim that as a guard stance. I've tried it, and I can see how it might be used that way, if the opponent is fighting the same way. The lunge you perform from that stance involved flexing the forward knee a great deal (until its in front of the foot, according to the plate), and and leaning forward. When I was first taught to do it, I was taught you can either take a short step into the lunge, or forgo the step, and lunge from the stationary position (and still gain considerable distance).

The plate in the manual shows a straight leg, with the body tilted back, so that you could practically draw a line up the direction of the leg, up the body (when Guy Windsor demonstrates the stance in The Duellist's Companion, he seems to have his front knee bent very slightly). Most of the weight should be on the back leg (70%, one teacher explained to me), until the lunge (at which point, the majority of the weight would be on the front leg, obviously).

My first weekend practicing this technique, my knees hurt to such a point, I could barely walk. Teachers usually respond to that criticism by reminding us students that swordfighters in the 1500's and 1600's were practicing this every day, and were likely much more flexible, and physically fit. That is absolutely true, but I still had some misgivings about the stance.

When Justinian and I went to see John Clements do a demonstration at the Philadelphia Museum, we started seeing things differently. Clements reminded the audience that the plates in the manuals aren't meant to be taken as gospel, necessarily. They are a point in time, a demonstration of the position you are likely to find yourself in when confronted with a particular situation. Very rarely do we see step-by-step movements (the way you may see with a modern instruction manual, for instance).

The plates and manuals are tools used to aid instruction, not meant to be used in place of an instructor. This seems obvious to us, but its an easy thing for hobbiest-historians to forget when we're caught up interpreting movements and texts for modern audiences. We may be afraid to wander out of a recordable jurisdiction, wanting to stay in a place where we can document every possible movement, so we can defend our thesis.

We saw clements do a demonstration of longsword fighting, and during the demonstration, he took a step back, avoiding an attack, and his stance was exactly that "guard" stance of Capo Ferro's. It was used as a void, just before making a counter-attack.

So, we move to our discussion last night. Justinian and I discuss that guard position. We go into stance, and he encourages me to attack. I lunge in quarte to his shoulder. He leans back, assuming that exact "guard" stance (leg stretched out forward, body back), voiding out of the way of my attack; he then counter-attacks in terza to my chest, avoiding the point of my blade.

So, we seem to have validated the use of that stance as a prelude to an attack, certainly...but not as a guard. He used it the same way Clements seemed to use it with the longsword: as a transitional stance (in this case, as a void), before a counter-attack.

We moved to the manual itself, Capo Ferro's Gran Simulacro. One interpretation of the instructions along with plate 7 seems to verify some of what we were discovering. The description of how an opponent ("C.") should avoid a lunge to the eye:

Yet I also say that if C. should be a wise person, when he cavo [moves the point of the blade in a disengaging-type motion] to finta [feint] with the vita [body] held back somewhat, and D. will surely proceed to strike C. C., having parried by falso [the "back" side of the sword] or by edge from outside of the enemy's sword, will give him a dritto to the face or an imbroccata in such an end he should retire in low quarta.

The above description matches, very closely, that guard/void position we'd been trying to interpret.

2: We expanded our discussion to how to make practical use of the plates. The descriptions with the plates assume very specific, but not uncommon, conditions. The introduction to this series of plates, for example, spells out a particular supposition: "always presupposing the stringere on the inside, and the cavar of your Adversary's point to strike."

Initially, this seems like an almost-useless set instructions. If the plates are only useful showing the particular defenses to a very specific set of conditions, then what use are the plates and instructions themselves? To answer this question, we consider the value of the instructional text as a whole.

Earlier in the essay, I mentioned the notion that instructional manuals are best used as tools, meant to augment instruction. If this is the case, what other attributes does the manual carry? Most instructors will remind students of historical sword-fighting to not fall into the trap of using just the plates for instruction; they are an incomplete set of instructions. Without a solid foundation of certain principals, attempts at instruction from plates are doomed to failure.

The Gran Simulacro is the Master's treatise about misura (measure), tempo (time), and how they relate into movement and striking. Without misura and tempo, none of the movements in the plates have any value. They are elements to which he constantly returns, whether talking about guards, movement, or striking. The plates, and their descriptions, are examples of how to best utilize tempo and measure. They aren't meant to stand on their own; rather, they exist as something of "laboratory testing" for the methodology in the text.

(For my notes on basics of misura and tempo, see my notes from "An Introduction to Italian Rapier," published on the Tadcaster Militia website: http://www.tadcastermilitia.com/publish.html

3: We move from the practical, to the philosophy behind the the technique and manual, to its practical application in the reenactment community.

Consider the Italian master, residing in London, in the late 1500's. The Italian style of sword-fighting is in fashion. The London Masters are not completely pleased by the emergence of so many Italian teachers in London. English masters argue that the Italians are not even teaching a true technique; rather, they are teaching young nobles how to murder each other (Silver writes, "neither the Italians, nor any of their best scholers do never fight, but they are most comonly sore hurt, or one or both of them slaine").

So, here is the equation: young nobles, wrapped up wanting to be in fashion, go to Italian sword-masters. Perhaps they are not there to learn the "true art" of rapier, but rather to learn technique and tricks useful in surviving an impending duel. The Italian, being paid handsomely for his knowledge, obliges. The Italian technique quickly develops a reputation as a series of tricks, as opposed to a true style (such as the more "nationalistic" English techniques of wrestling, staff-fighting, long-sword or halberd, all of which were taught by the London Masters of Defense).

So what does that mean for myself, portraying an Italian master in London? My persona may develop a sense of pride, something of a lower-class celebrity (despite being a rapier-man and an instructor, he is still Catholic...not a notion necessarily favored England at the time). I might participate with the London Masters (or the East Kingdom's loose equivalent, the League of Rapier Academies), merely for my own survival. I would certainly expound upon the mastery of the thrusting-form, as opposed to cutting. And I would demonstrate the mastery of the form by performing in expositions, and perhaps duels.

Practice last night was a full night of examples of historical technique, and how to interpret the technique for both practical rapier instruction and personal development. My hope is to build each lesson in the same manner: move from practical fighting applications to other ways technique can be applied to the reenactment community.

Lorenzo Gorla. CSC. AoA. QHD. Companion of the Silver Gauntlet (Iron Bog). Captain: League of Rapier Academies. Proctor and co-founder: Hawkwood Academy of Arms (an academy of the East Kingdom LoRA).

(c) W. Michael Goodman. 2008.

From the "I got one and you probably didn't," department...

I spent part of the afternoon at Natural 20 in Collinswood, NJ. I wasn't planning on buying much of anything. I was hoping to find a set of Dungeon Tiles (they had the entire set; I picked up the first set), but while I was glancing at the shelves, I saw a copy of this:



That's the copy of the role-playing rules for Warhammer 40K, Dark Heresy.

Did I get it because I've been addicted to the setting for years? Because I'm a hard-core Warhammer 40K fan?

Nope. Played 40K once or twice. Don't know a whole heck of a lot about the setting.

It's just so darn pretty.

I mean, just look at it.

Buncha bad-asses on the cover, holding guns, and looking...um...bad...

...and stuff...

Okay, okay...the truth is, my collector's instinct hit me. All the RPG's published by Black Industries are being discontinued. I've heard nothing but good things about the book, and it sounds like a great read. Plus, I already have a copy of the Warhammer Fantasy Roleplaying Game, so it feels good to know I have its "sister" product.

So, I'm happy with the purchase. I'm excited to read it (its next on my list, after a collection of Kurt Vonnegut short stories I'm enjoying right now).

The Challenge of Higher Levels (a topic I'll probably return to again and again)

I'm running a D&D game with some friends right now, and they've made it up to 12th/13th level. One player told me he doesn't care for higher-level games of D&D, and claimed that at those power levels, each encounter is either an absolute victory or an absolute failure; you're either well-prepared to handle that challenge rating of an encounter or you're not. I thought about that a little bit, and considered how I create encounters for my higher level games.

I don't believe that, at higher levels, an encounter is any more an absolute victory or absolute failure any more than at lower levels. But then again, many of my encoutners aren't the traditional D&D kick-in-the-door, deal-with-the-monster encounters. Here are a few things I do to mix up my encounters, to make even slightly lower-level creatures a higher-level threat:

1: I'll play with the battlefield. A dungeon encounter may include traps along with the monster, blockades, or nuisances that can slowly deplete characters' resources while in a combat. for outdoor encoutners, I'll use buildings, foliage, and geographical features to augment the creatures' abilities.

I had one encounter that spanned the interior and exterior of a run-down inn, which included, if I remember correctly, 2 ogres, a goblin sorceror. The sorceror hassled PC's left in the inn, used cover, and threw spells outside to PC's combatting the bigger guys. The ogres were steamrollers, destroying any cover the PC's were using.

2: Social combat always makes things interesting. Obvioulsy, not every encoutner has to be combat-oriented. We've had one session that was just the players negotiating with a dragon NPC, and making it out safely (with tons of information relating to storyline in the campaign). Some levels of social interaction tend to spice up encounters that are even 'destined" to become combat encounters. They keep all the players' attention, and still give the opportunity to use characters' skills and other resources.

3: The stakes get bigger. Lets face it: in D&D, fear of character death isn't a terribly huge motivation. There are too many opportunities for Raise Dead-style spells. Once the players begin to care abou the campaign world, though, any threats to the world itself become a bigger motivator for the game. The trick is, getting the players to care.

That's always the tricky part. I'm lucky that, as of right now, I have players that do have their characters care about their campaign world. When they don't, then its back to some old-school GM tricks: they probably care more about their treasure. So its time to undertake quests to remove curses from their magic items, etc.

None of this is new or revolutionary. Everybody who has played or GM'ed in a RPG has figured alot of these techniques out. I find it interesting, though, how much you have to remind yourself about them for D&D. Its like they're easy to forget, once you start mapping a dungeon or rolling on the treasure tables. The trick is to not let them go, I reckon.

If it was good enough for Napoleon, its good enough for me!

I've never really been into miniatures. I appreciate them for their artistic value, and especially love old-school Grenadier and Ral Partha D&D minis for the nostalgic value. Although I used to enjoy war-games like Panzer Blitz, I never really got into minis-style wargaming. I've owned a starter-set of Warhammer 40K, and Mordheim, and played a couple of times, but the thought of painting minis was always overwhelming.

About a year ago, I found this thread on-line, of a minis battle based a little on the D&D module, Temple of Elemental Evil: http://www.dragonsfoot.org/forums/viewtopic.php?p=332091#332091.

Yeah, that's Gary Gygax in there.

Click the "Forward to Turn (x)" at the bottom of each series of pics. They're what I consider awe-inspiring.

Next, go look at one of the forums on Dwarven Forge's site: http://www.dwarvenforge.com/dwarvenforums/viewforum.php?id=3&p=1

People post pictures of all of the differetn minis-setups they make with their Dwarven Forge set-ups. I own a handful of Dwarven Forge's dungeon sets. I'd absolutely love more, but the expense is a bit much (though I'll likely pick up a couple of more sets over the spring).

(Check out anything done by invincibleoverloard...that guy's work is fantastic!)

Its work like this that makes me (1) want to use minis more in my own RPG's, and (2) kind of want to try more minis wargaming.

I have a nice-sized collection of Star Wars minis from Wizards of the Coast. Of course, I never saved any stat-cards (figuring I'd never play the minis game. This weekend, I went and dowloaded the rules off of the Wizards of the Coast website, and found a couple of sites that had all of the stats of all the different minis. So now, I think I'm going to try to organize a regular night for Star Wars minis-gaming.

I like the idea of it because it keeps me gaming, and obviously doesn't have the set-up time and creative investment of running a role-playing game. And we can play with just two people, so no worries about folks schedules getting messed up by gaming. People want to come to play, then they show up to play.

The game is played on flat mats, for the most part. I want to make some terrain, though, and likely mount it on boards that would suit a battle-mat. I think it would be a nice introduction to wargaming for me.

Sunday Swordfighting Notes

Prologue

"The right tool for the right job."

When I started fencing in the SCA, I was confused. I'd done SCA rataan combat for a couple of years, which was nothing at all like any kinds of fighting I'd tried to study before (karate, boxing & wrestling). SCA fencing looked too much like strip-fencing, which I was an absolutely arcane mystery (what the hell is right-of-way, anyway?). Rataan combat was unique; my teachers were knowledgeable in SCA combat, and precious little of other fighting arts they studied bled in. Fencing, though, seemed to be an amalgamation of collegiate strip fencing and something that wanted to be historical reenactment. When I was taught to swing rataan, I was taught, by rote, how to execute a proper swing, or how to handle a heater-style shield, how to move my body in armor. It was all appropriate for our particular style of fighting, and although there may be stylistic differences from one teacher to another, the core always remained constant. With fencing, though, technique seemed fluid, depending upon the weapon and the teacher.

Some of my fencing instructors had strong backgrounds in foil, some epee, some sabre; they were practical, showing me how to hold a proper fencing-blade and throw precise attacks and tight parries. A few were students of historical sword-fighting, who had examples of stances and guards from 400 year-old plates. Some were fight choreographers, who modified showy stage-moves into a fighting technique. Every one of them told me, "this is the right way to do it."

It took me years to start to figure things out. My weapon wasn't anything like an olympic epee or foil, so trying to use it like one failed. I wasn't really using a rapier, so trying to treat my weapon like a rapier never worked. I had fun experimenting and fighting, but I got very little out of each fight. My learning curve was very shallow; I learned stronger technique from my friends, and I tried to pay attention to why I was hit where I was hit, and I drilled some of the basics (as well as I could), but things still seemed muddled.

A few years ago, I started learning from E.B. (SCA THL Justinian Timagens), and things clicked. We stripped my technique down to the bone. We eschewed other weapons forms like case-of-rapier and rapier-and-dagger, and concentrated on single rapier. We worked on foundations: distance, time, and measure. Since I could concentrate on the strictest foundations of fighting, my fighting improved. I saw myself improve. My attention was better. I saw openings in my opponents I hadn't seen before. I judged my distance and time better. I thought more clearly about how I fought, and why I fought the way I did.

Once I built a solid foundation, I could build myself as a better historical sword-fighter. I made a decision: concentrate on historical technique. I was a tough decision to put away my oval cross-section schlager and use something closer to a rapier. Hand and arm position had to change, I had to adjust my stance, re-learn elements of timing and distance to accommodate a slightly longer and heavier weapon. Parries were slightly different; movements to control a blade take precedence over beat-attacks. I was at step-one again.

If I wanted to do it, though, I had to make a commitment. No epees or foils, no plywood bucklers or cut-down foils to use as dagger blades. I'm certainly not making a commentary about other fighters who choose to fight with foils or the like; rather, I'm saying that if someone wants to do purely historical re-enactment, those tools don't work. I had to commit to using the right tool for the right job.

I don't recommend this for everyone. Its a style I enjoy playing with; my greatest joy when I'm using a sword comes when we discover how to properly execute a move described in a manual...that "a-ha!" moment when another student and I say, "they did it this way for this purpose!" Interpreting historical sword-fighting is, for me, an art...no different than other historians re-creating battles or trying to rebuild a medieval castle. I want to re-build what existed back then.

I'm no armchair-historian, who interprets battles without ever visiting a battlefield or meeting a soldier. I want to see how the weapon works. I do test-cuts when I can. I fight different people with different styles and philosophies, and talk about how the fight went. I fight with different weapons in different ways; I'm not afraid to experiment. If I couldn't experiment, there would be no fun, no room to grow, and ultimately, no point.

I'm moving into a era where I have to focus much more on scholarship. Neither my cardiologist nor my general physician think it is safe for me to participate in contact-sports, due to the volume of blood-thinners I'm taking (if I bleed internally, things can get very bad, very fast). So, with my coach's encouragement (thanks, Ed), I'm going to spend more time with the manuals open. I'll work with people interested in re-creating fights described in the manuals, movements described in the plates, and creating exhibitions for display and education. I'll still hold a sword, and I'll still work with other sword-fighters, but putting myself into competitive situations where I can get seriously hurt aren't options any longer (so, in terms of the SCA, no sidesword, no rataan, and precious little time in tournaments). Its a little disappointing to have some of what I'm doing limited by medical concerns, but I still get to participate in the hobby I genuinely love.

The purpose of this work is to chronicle my studies. Every week, I will write about whatever I've learned from the historical sword-fighting community. I will put down notes about how I teach, and I want to chronicle what I've learned. I want to be able to look back on my notes and see what kinds of progress I've made, or chart everything I need to correct. It can serve as an encouragement and a reminder.