Discovering Defenses

Its a Friday night and I’m at my son’s karate school. There are only two students: my son and a young black-belt. The instructor and I talk while he leads the boys through their exercises. We reminisce about old TV shows we watched as kids, debating our favorite Catwoman, his is Julie Neumar, mine is Eartha Kitt. As the class ends, the discussion drifts from what inspired our imaginations as kids to what inspires us as martial artists. We identify some of those universal things that tie his eastern martial arts and my western swordsmanship. I show him a plate out of Fabris. The duelists are contorted in an uncomfortable position: bodies bent, arms bent up with elbows pointed to the sky, blade parallel to the ground.





He immediately sees the value in the guard. Its similar to one his own instructor taught him. He demonstrates, his body leaning back, arms crossed in a manner that protects the body but seems able to strike if someone were to punch or kick at him. It takes me a few moments before I see the similarities.

I’m impressed, not that he’s able to decipher the guard so quickly (especially in a martial form with which he’s unfamiliar), but because he immediately finds its practicality and applies it to his own technique. We step back and forth for a moment, demonstrating how the guard blocks away an attack and immediately strikes back.

Looking back, I found the exchange between the instructor and myself interesting because when I was first learning that technique, it didn’t immediately make any sense. I’d studied Italian swordsmanship for a couple of years, and had just been introduced to Fabris. A small study group consisting of a couple of people and myself were going through the manual, page by page, plate by plate. When we initially came across this plate, we were confused. The position just didn’t look right. Obviously, it had to have some value. Fabris had no small amount of prestige and influence. We had to assume that the plate had validity. There was the picture of an unusual guard with accompanying text. We just needed to decipher the puzzle.

We had a well-developed plan of attack. One fighter served as the aggressor, the person doomed to die in our experiment. That was our objective: kill the aggressor with Fabris’ instruction. The defender would strike the killing blow with the appropriate technique (I initially had that honor). One person was the director, a choreographer who, using clues from the plates and the texts, put us into our positions and guided our movements. The three of us became a cooperative troupe, each discovering the validity (or lack thereof) of each action from our unique perspective. We each communicated with each other, and shared what we learned through our own eyes of aggressor, defender, and director.

The first thing I did as defender was to go into position and sit there, like it was a passive guard. The contortion felt ludicrous. It wasn’t stable. There didn’t appear to be any more value in this guard as opposed to an upright guard. I didn’t feel particularly vulnerable, just uncomfortable. I couldn’t imagine that this was a position I’d want to maintain in a fight.

And that was just it...it wasn’t. The plates are snapshots that serve a particular purpose. In this case, the movement described on the plate is the position one would put oneself in shortly before one strikes. The text helped with that discovery:

“Begin forming this guard as you are still upright. As you see your opponent approaching, gradually lower your body and withdraw your sword; once your opponent is within the measures, he will find your body as low as possible and your sword as withdrawn as you can possibly keep it without taking it out of line.” (p. 38)

So we followed that advice. I started upright, in a second guard (knuckles upward, sword straight out at almost shoulder-height). As the aggressor stepped forward, I slowly pulled my body down, my body crouched, elbow up, sword forward, until my opponent was close enough for me to strike.

It still felt like something was lacking. Would my opponent advance slowly? Would I, slowly and deliberately, draw myself down and contort myself into position, and wait for a moment to strike? According to the text, once my opponent was in range, I would, “quickly unleash an attack to the inside in fourth.” It seemed possible, but seemed like a long way to go for the action. It felt contrived...like a bad self-defense class that would teach, “Okay, if I grab you just like this, then you do this...”

“What if they don’t grab me just like this?”

“Well, I have another technique for that...”

It didn’t seem right, that a fencing manual that has survived this long, that has been interpreted, shared, and copied for the last four-hundred years would be reduced to “If this, then that,” instructions. There should be movements that would be familiar to anyone who was learning to fight. We should be able to identify the value in the guard and the actions. Fabris was teaching students how to keep their lives in a time when young men armed with both sword and ego travelled together in the same social circles.

So we did it again, and looked for more clues in the text or the art. The director wondered why, “cuts are more easily parried from this guard” (a line from near the end of the description of the guard). The aggressor then changed her attack. As I coiled down, she moved forward as if she were delivering a cut downward to my head. We found that, if the timing was right, the attack was thwarted by my “withdrawn” blade and my head was out of the way of the attack. From there, I could deliver a killing retaliatory blow (precisely in fourth, with my arm crossed across my body, palm up...just like the text said I should).

It all came together when we decided to move at greater speed, delivering our attacks with more sincere intent. The aggressor rushed me, swinging her sword down to the top of my head.

I reacted appropriately, by yelling in fear and ducking. It seemed like the most rational reaction.

Look back at the plate. Imagine yourself in the position of the fighter presented in the artwork. Imagine someone swinging a sword down on your head. The subject there is ducking out of the way, voiding the body, parrying the downward-striking attack with the outstretched blade. From that position, it seems like the most natural action to stretch your arm forward, like a spring-driven trap, and thrust in fourth to kill your opponent.

It was like we’d just unlocked some arcane secret. We switched roles, over and over, so each of us in our little study group could see the action from their own perspective. Each of us agreed that, when done full speed, with intent, this technique seemed not just effective, but natural. One could even say it seemed like the most rational thing to do.

We could not have deciphered the value of the plate without several key elements. We each had to see the action from our own perspective. We each had to know the basics of how to fight...our guards, footwork and bladework. We had to trust the author and his material. We had to believe in its value.

The material was a puzzle...a crime scene that we had to enact ourselves, over and over. The text and plates gave us guidelines, like clues to the crime. We took the starting and stopping points, directions that moved us forward to the ultimate objective: the aggressor defeated, and the defender saved.

Once we discovered the technique to decipher the plate, we could apply it to the rest of our study. The plates do not exist in a vacuum. Their value is hidden if you try to take them alone, on their face. A plate, if taken alone, without sincere study in the company of the others in its manual, is meaningless. We were able to unlock the value of the plates by applying our knowledge of those universal truths in swordsmanship, those foundations of timing, distance and accuracy, and relying on our trust in the material, and utilizing our own passion and perseverance to uncover a seemingly-arcane technique.

Fabris was certainly not trying to obfuscate his material. But we, students of defense studying the text four-hundred years later, may have to approach the manual like we’re interpreting art. We can take it out and dissect it, applying it based on our perceptions and our experiences, comparing it against what we already know. We can debate a style’s value against other techniques we know. I imagine that’s how my son’s karate instructor thinks about it, when he sees an Italian swordfighting guard and immediately applies it to his own skills.

Text and images from Art of Dueling: Salvatore Fabris’ Rapier Fencing Treatise of 1606. Tommaso Leoni. Chivalry Bookshelf. 2005.

Persona in the SCA: re-evaluating re-enactment

There's a romantic ideal that I look for, and its what I want to portray. In the same way the the idea of chivalry that we play with is more a construct of romantic-era literature, so is the notion of the Renaissance swordsman that I want to portray based on Cyrano deBergerac, The Three Musketeers, even as far as The Gray Mouser.

I want to portray someone who is in love with life because he knows how short it can be...someone who speaks too loudly, laughs too boisterously, and carries a mercenary attitude towards church, king and country. Someone who loves every gulp of wine and every bite of food because it could be his last. Someone quick to draw a sword in defense of his own honor, or the honor of a lady, or of whatever cause carries his attention that day.

Its an easy character to play when you consider that I can rush into a duel and leave with only minor injuries.

My life is comfortable. So is yours. What better way to step out of oneself than to be someone whose life is dependent on a twist of a knife or a draw of a sword.

That doesn't mean I wold want to abandon historical accuracy...I would like my kit to be a little more authentic for a Venetian stuck in London. I prefer to study historical swordsmanship (and teach it as well, when the opportunity is there). But that all helps take me away form the modern.

Short update about being hopeful

So, next month, I may know if I can fence again. I have some physical therapy ahead of me, I understand.

This is bugging me just a little, because I've been planning on buying a new sword and some new armor. I'll like to try out SCA cut-and-thrust fighting, and I've found another western martial arts group in the area.

So, for right now, I hope for the best.

Something else to look forward to: Castles and Crusades game this coming weekend.

At my age, I have to pace myself

Sometimes, I get really lucky.

A short time ago, I hit a nearby used bookstore. I found a bunch of treasures there, including an old Deities and Demigods (which ended up being the big find...more on that in another ost), as well as an old Avalon Hill war-game. Stuffed along the few gaming books and wargames, I found this little gem:


An old Tournaments Illuminated from 1983.

How awesome it that?!

The inside is full of typewritten pages and hand-done drawings. Articles range from, "What my Award of Arms Means to Me" to a history of kites. Its beautiful...a zine that represents the down-and-dirty, grass-roots feel of the earlier SCA. Its obviously a work of love and patience.

I love that do-it-yourself feeling that I get from this magazine. The cottage industries that are supported by the hobby certainly make any SCAdian's life easier...certainly, I wouldn't have half the gear or garb I have if I had to make it all myself and rely on my own craftiness. The feeling I get from seeing an old periodical like this, though, is more counter-culture, more small-community feeling.

At my first Kings and Queen's Rapier Tournament, there was talk about the Cording System's email group. This was the mid to late 90's; I was broke, and didn't own a computer yet. I asked how I'd keep in touch with the rest of the group if I didn't have access to email, and was told, "The 21st century is in a couple of years. Get with the times." The irony, of course, that the woman telling this to me was wearing an attempt at 16th century clothing and carrying a rapier. We all laughed. Now, I couldn't imagine an SCA without the web.

In 1983, how many days a week did you work on your hobby? How often did you communicate with other members? How important were your local buiness meetings or armoring nights or sewing gatherings? Today, I can be in constant contact with any number of members. If I want to, I could be on my local group's email list, the local region's email list, the local region's fencing email list, my kingdom award's email list, the kingdom fencing email list, etc. And I was...and more. And eventually burnt out.

It was hard for the SCA to feel special when I was being bombarded with news and info all day. It was hard to feel like I could devote any time t my other hobbies. Suddenly, if I wanted to paint, I felt like I should be making an effort to paint heraldry...that sort of thing. Of course, no one made me feel that way, but with the SCA always in my field of vision, it was hard to ignore any possible SCAdian use for anything I did. The SCA started feeling really...mundane.

Focus on any one really cool thing long enough and you're likely to tire of it. I know people in various fandoms who eventually burn out. I know die-hard convention goers, war-gamers, LARPers, board gamers...the list goes on...who get tired and need time away. Sometimes you need that time to make something feel special again.

I know people who felt that way about church, too, and other social activities. Hit the same nightclub week after week without stop, without breaking routine, and watch yourself loose the motivation to dance, to smile at the barmaid. We have enough free time on our hands that anything can eventually become boring...we grow apathetic, develop a sense of ennui that replaces our excitement and passion.

I'm a geek, and that isn't likely to change. I'm nearing 40, and I still play role-playing games, I play war-games, I'm a SCAdian, I might even LARP again if the opportunity presents itself. I've edited, playtested, and written for gaming products, and spent way too much time thinking about obscure rules from old, yellowing game products. I can't turn down a game of chess and I still read comic books. I love swordsmanship and find it difficult to pull myself away from old fencing manuals. And horror of horrors, my 10 year-old thinks its all cool. If I want to have the passion to get him interested in medieval costumes and gaming books and painting minis and chess, I have to learn to pace myself. I'm not getting any younger and, thankfully, it doesn't look like any of the things I love are going away anytime soon.

Different definitions of victory

Does studying an historically accurate fighting style in the SCA mean that you have to abandon winning tournaments?

Alot of people I talk to have a misconception about me when it comes to SCA combat...that I don't care about whether or not I win or loose. That's not entirely true. The Don I study with put it into my head that when you're on the tournament field, you're there to do a job. Do the job, maintain honor, treat your opponent with respect. This is basic sportsmanship, and its the core of how I feel about competition.

That being said, I think I take a slightly different approach to SCA tournament fighting than other people. I go into competition with a few objectives:

1: Keep perspective. Have fun. This is the obvious one, don't you think? These are friends we're fighting. The best prize is being told you gave a good fight, and knowing that everyone acted with honor. If everyone walked out feeling good about the fight, then its a win.

2: Have an additional objective than simple victory. I participated in a tournament in which we were expected to display historical technique. The participants were concerned with how they displayed their technique, much more than they were concerned with whether they won or lost. The question wasn't so much, "What could I have done to won," as much as it was, "Did I do this right?"

3: Use each victory and defeat to help with the details. How is your timing or your distance? What details of the technique that you're using helped? Its helpful having someone you study with watching from the sidelines. Ask them what they saw. Discuss it with them. Use every defeat to hone the technique.

Although some of us practice historical swordsmanship as an art form, it is still a martial activity. The ultimate objective of the period masters is victory. In the SCA, we have the opportunity to take our time to practice every detail with intensity and passion. We aren't fettered by a seasonal tournament schedule; we can take time to grow in our technique, using every fight as a learning exercise.

My handout for Known World Rapier Academy class: Intro to Studying Historical Swordfighting

Introduction to Studying Historical Swordsmanship

My objective is to make studying historical sword-fighting accessible to everyone. Techniques from the period masters can be integrated into SCA rapier with a minimum of mutation. The purpose behind this class is to give you the tools so you can start studying historical technique.

Outside of the practice of sword-fighting, what are the advantages of studying the period masters?

1: Historical technique can be used as a tool for persona development and cultural research. Take the study of Italian and English masters for example. For example, George Silver wrote his manual as a response to the proliferation of Italian masters throughout London, and the popularity of rapier fighting. How does that impact you if your persona is from Elizabethan England?

2: The period masters have something to say about our martial culture. The manuals weren't written in a vacuum; they were written in response to specific needs of fighters of the time. Who were they written for? Were they written for a particular patron, or for the public? Who would have used this fighting style?

3: Studying historical sword-fighting helps preserve obscure arts and sciences that would die out, were it not for our practice. The recent renaissance (no pun intended) in western martial arts has created a need and interest in the publication of sword-fighting manuals. Western martial arts groups, as well as the SCA, are preserving these arts. We pass these techniques onto our students, and to the public via demos, scholas, academies, and other events.

How do we begin?

First, surround yourself with like-minded individuals. Find friends who share your interest. I can't stress the importance of having a supportive group that has your back. Excitement is infectious. Its important to have a circle of students to provide different opinions and outlooks on the text. In my opinion, you should have a minimum of three people, so two may practice the technique, and one can read the manual and offer opinions from the outside.

Second, choose a master you'd be interested in looking into. How to choose a manual or a particular master is beyond the scope of this class. Choosing what kind of manual, though, is based really on what you're interested in getting out of the manual. If you're interested specifically in using a rapier, as opposed to older forms or cutting-based forms, you may be interested more in Fabris or Capo Ferro, for example. If you're interested in a for that emphasizes the mechanical aspects of time and distance, consider a Spanish technique.

Once you decide on a manual, analyze it with your study group. Look into the historical context of the manual. Don't ignore the introduction to the manual; often, it will talk about the background of the master, who he's written for, and a little about the culture he's written in. Read as much of the manual as possible before practicing techniques from the manual. Don't just read the first paragraph, for example, and try the technique described. Most often, techniques in a single section of a manual build on other material described earlier. You'll understand more of what the master is trying to describe when you see techniques described earlier and later.

I should take a moment to say a few words about looking over the plates in the manual. Obviously, the plates are just snapshots, single moments in time. Mimicking the plates is not the same as learning the technique. Think of the plates as a guide to use along with the text. If you try to just recreate the stances and motions shown in the plates, then you're not really learning anything of the technique. Don't be afraid to play with what you see in the manual, though. If you see a plate that shows a final motion (such as a killing blow), don't be afraid to play with the motions that take you from guard position to the final plate.

What should we keep in mind when we practice?

Play. Don't be afraid to play. Don't be afraid to experiment. Have a great sense of humor about what you're doing. While you're trying something new, expect to loose a lot of bouts. You'll be learning new things about your stance, distance, timing, guards, etc. Get used to dealing with a new learning curve.

Like I'd said earlier, I find that working in groups of at least three works best. One person reads the manual, while the other two practice. The one observer serves the role as director. Rotate the roles among each other. Listen to each other, and share your observations.

Here are a few other tips:

Make sure that your study group stays focused. Its easy to drift off while studying a manual. There may be movements or terminology you may not be familiar with; resist the temptation to try to mutate the techniques in the manual to fit your personal style. The further away you take yourself from the intention of the master, the less effective the techniques you're trying to learn become.

That shouldn't keep you from playing with the techniques, though. There's a difference between playing with the form and drifting too far from the goal.

While reading through the manual, try to find the agenda that the master is trying to put forth. Most manuals follow a particular theme, technique, or even political agenda. If you're able to discover the “agenda,” then you have tool to help you get through roadblocks in the manual. For example, if you know that one particular master advocates attacks in single-time, then if you are at a roadblock in a particular part of a manual and it is ambiguous as to how an attack should be delivered, you'll at least know that it is likely that the attack should be delivered in single time. Its one more tool at your disposal to help you understand the manuals a little more deeply.

Consider your sword. Is the technique you're studying going to work with that weapon? Different masters advocate weapons of different styles or lengths. For example, Silver will not work with a long rapier, Capo Ferro will not work with a curved blade. I wouldn't use epees or foils for Italian rapier techniques (the techniques just don't work). Again, determining the correct weapon length for all different masters is beyond the scope of this class. In some cases, the master may assume you know the length or type of weapon to be used (that's where its helpful to know the historical context in which the manual was written). Others may specify the length by your height, the length of your lunge, etc.

Remember your fundamentals. Things like footwork, distance, accuracy, and timing are universal. Though some things may work differently, the basics of how to fight aren't necessarily going to change. Some masters may want slightly different stances, or recommend you move a particular way, but they won't likely be too different from what you first learned.

Drill. Stretch. Work out. I've found that reproducing some techniques straight from the plates is a little like yoga. There may not be a lot of impact, but its still a workout.

When you practice, practice with intent. The best way to determine if something works is to practice as if you are really fighting. For the longest time, I couldn't see any value in Capo Ferro's first guard. One day, we practiced cutting attacks against someone who is just first drawing his sword out of the scabbard. That was when we found its value. We could never really see how effective it was when doing slow-work., or just trying to reproduce moves from the plates and from other practitioners' pictures.

Practice everywhere. Take what you've learned into tournaments. Yeah, you may loose at first...a lot. But be okay with that. One way to stay encouraged is to look for different objectives when you enter tournaments. Instead of, “victory” as your ultimate objective, why not focus on insuring that your technique is as clean as possible. The more you perfect your style, the closer to victory you'll ultimately become. That may sound obvious, but you're likely to be moving out of a particular comfort zone. Its important to have something to hold onto, to help keep encouraged.

Question about the first guard in Fabris

Had our first question about how to approach some of the interpretations of the plates:

My partner asked:

ok, first question for you.

p. 35 (first paragraph) "in this manner your opponent will not be able to come in above your sword; and that part being the weakest, it should be the most strongly defended".....my question... why is this part the weakest.

I thought about it, and read over some of the manual:

Just looking at the formation of the sentence, "that part" seems to refer to the target area you'd be defending. If someone is attacking above your sword while you are in this guard, they're attacking the head, and possibly the arm (he mentions earlier the possibility of the arm being the target). Looking at the plates, where exactly is the forte really protecting? He mentions the guard helping protect the body more efficiently, too.

Check out page 25, where he talks about why to hold the sword extended: "If your opponent simply places his forte to your debole and goes for the attack, he will find it difficult to succeed by virtue of the small opening that is one of the properties of the manner of holding the sword." Also, check page 28, talking about posture: "If a person could make himself so small as to be able to cover his entire body with the forte of the sword, it would be ideal. But since this is not normally possible, you should at least make an effort to cover as much of it as you can, so you can enjoy more safety."

Does that make sense? I don't think he comes right out and says what the weak part is, but he's already said this is an effective guard against cuts, and it appears the primary cut someone would attempt would be from up to down, near the head or shoulder.

Universal truth at fencing practice

My partner and I started talking at practice last night about how to start with studying Fabris' manual. We went through a good part of the first section of the book, going over what we took away from each section, and discovering what common theme ran underneath everything.

There were a few things that weren't necessarily surprises to either of us: the importance of performing motions in a single tempo, the basics of measure, and patience.

Throughout the book, a common theme is that one does not perform an aggressive action until the stars are right. Don't be the aggressor at the risk of loosing tempo. Be wary of moving into measure with someone who is in a static guard, waiting for your move.

Be patient. Wait. Back up.

Chill out.

Be still.

...

So next week, we'll begin working on the plates. The first, of course, being the first position.

Fabris: trusting the source

"My advice is this: follow the book, and trust its contents blindly."

How many students ever want to hear that from an instructor? Haven't we all been taught to be critical thinkers, to test everything we read, everything we learn? Double check the sources. Consider the translator. Look back over the language. Confer with colleagues about potential other meanings.

But that runs counter to Leoni's advice in his introduction to The Art of Dueling. We're asked to trust the source. Consider Fabris' mastery. We're asked to invoke a type of papal infallibility when it comes to Fabris' teaching. He's the master, we are the students. If we want to know how to fight like Fabris wants us to, then trust Fabris.

To do this, we have to forget how to be 21st century students. We have to trust the source. For the sake of learning this technique, this style of fighting, then we have to work in a pure manner. Fully immerse ourselves in his technique, and trust his work implicitly.

So, for the sake of this technique, I'm willing to take the translator's advice and to trust the author completely. I think back to what I wrote yesterday, about wanting to put away old notions and start new.

On to the technique: Guards and measure.

My plan is to just jot down some notes on what I've read or practiced each day. I'd like to at least write out whatever I've taken away from the text that day.

The manual starts with the four guards, and the division of the sword. I'm familiar with the guards, but there are some strong reminders about the importance of the guards in technique. "It must be clear that nothing is done that does not proceed from the essence of one of these guards (emphasis mine)." There's a flexibility implied, because of the motion the hand goes through between guards. Motions may go from the transitional state between guards (what he calls "bastard" guards). Here, we're immediately hit with an important part of the foundation: your sword motions aren't going to be executed from static positions. Shortly, Fabris will describe the dangers of fighting in dui tempi.

The divisions of the sword are mentioned. He divides the sword into a defensive portion, nearer the hand (which he divides into two), and the debile (half closer to the tip) is divided into two portions, as well. Any fencing student is already familiar with the strong and the weak parts of the blade. Strong for defense, weak for attack.

When taking posture is discussed, it can't be discussed without discussing measure and tempo. The two measures, misura larga (where one may attack by moving a foot), and misura stretta (one may attack by just moving the body forward) are described.

Tomorrow, on "flinging the sword," and "on cuts."

Studying Fabris: Day 1

This past Pennsic, I was inspired by a few classes on Italian fencing master, Salvator Fabris. Some of the stuff I'd learned was familiar to me (thanks to the work I've done on Capo Ferro for the last couple of years), while others were totally alien to me. The postures take a little work for me, but that's the simplest thing to get over for me, probably.

I'm working together with a friend on Fabris' manual. We're using the Tomasso Leoni translation, Art of Dueling: Salvator Fabris' Rapier Fencing Treatise of 1606 (available through Chivalry Bookshelf). We're taking time from our local fencing practice to work on the manual every week. I'm using this blog to keep track of my own work (and I may publish my journal for review, after a while).

I've gone into the manual today, looking to take out something to help focus. Even the preface and introductions have helped in that regard. Regarding this translation, Maestro Sean Hayes says in the preface, "It allows us to reconsider previous interpretations..." That's exactly what I need out of this kind of study: I want to reconsider what I've learned up to now. I want my previous notions of Italian swordfighting shaken up.

And away we go.

I sent this letter to the East Kingdom League of Rapier Academies mailing list

Hi,

Here are my ideas, on how to start transition the League into a group encouraging historical swordsmanship.

I: Encourage members on how to focus their studies. Does the fighter want to study a particular master (such as Capo Ferro, Silver, or Di Grassi [not the show about Canadian high-school students])? Does the fighter want to study the swordfighting of a particular culture (like the English, Italians, Spanish or, maybe something more exotic or specific, like the Sea Dogs or the a military longsword style)? How about studying a particular time period, or clothing style, or mannerisms of a particular class of fighting, or a specific type of fighter (member of the London Masters, perhaps, or mercenary). How about studying other aspects of swordfighting culture, like dueling, or how masters made their livings in different places?

The idea here is to make the thought of transitioning into studying historical swordfighting less intimidating for those people who just don't have the interest into looking into manual work. There are plenty of ways of furthering the study of historical swordfighting than just studying manuals.

II: Encourage mentoring. If you've discovered something new and cool, then tell everyone . Use the Yahoo-group to spread information. Announce that you'd like to show off what you've learned at practice. We can use the League as a kind of storehouse for information. And pass it on to other members of the League. Post bibliographies, videos, pictures...whatever encourages and inspires further study and practice.

III: Demonstrate what you know. Show off at demonstrations. ENCOURAGE PRIZE-FIGHTS. Do prize-fights at demonstrations and big events. Invite local Barons and Baronesses to witness the displays. Encourage competitions with duels. Show off what you can do! demonstrate longsword vs. rapier! Demonstrate curved blades vs. some other stuff! Cut versus thrust! Italian vs. Spanish! Use our competitive natures to encourage inter-academy competition! This is high drama, people!

There are just a few thoughts that have been popping around in my mind since the weekend. More later.

Lorenzo Gorla. CSC. QHD. AOA. Silver Gauntlet (Iron Bog)
Bhakail Champion of Fence. Captain: LoRA.
Co-Founder: Hawkwood Academy of Arms
Scapegoat: Tadcaster Militia.

Teaching historical swordsmanship classes at an SCA event this weekend

I'm teaching 3 classes this upcoming weekend at the East Kingdom University in the Barony of Iron Bog:

Wards and Attacks for Italian Rapier

English Culture and Italian Fighting

Gentleman's Quarrel:Dueling Across Europe

Go to http://eastkingdom.org/event-detail.html?eid=1617 for more information on the event (such as directions, cost, etc.).

A few notes on our historical swordfighting discussion last week

Our historical swordfighting class turned out to be more of a round-table discussion about how to bring more historical swordfighting techniques into SCA rapier, and how to teach historical rapier. It was energizing for me, and helped remove some of the bitter taste of not being able to fence for the time being.

I feel energized by the possibility of teaching more, to tell the truth. I feel like I have more of a purpose in the SCA, you know?

My Don and I spent some time re-affirming how we're going to work together, too. We'll spend time doing swordwork, and time going through manuals. All very good stuff.

A few of the key points we touched on in our discussion last week:

1: How to use the manuals. Reminding ourselves that the manuals are there to aid in the teaching, and investigating the text without practical application just doesn't work. The manual may show us points "A" and "B", but we have to work on how to join those two points. We can do that, thanks to our practical experience with a sword.

2: The sword itself: The right tool for the right job. I talked about this before in this blog. I re-affirmed that I really don't feel comfortable teaching with an epee. If you're going to lean how to fight with a sword, then use a sword.

3: It starts from the beginning: Although we don't want to intimidate newer fencers with historical texts right out of the gate, it doesn't hurt to teach with those techniques in mind. Teach how the sword moves in concert with the body. Drill all of the moves that will eventually become necessary to know by rote. This isn't a new thought at all, but alot of teaching I see in the SCA is very compartmentalized.

4: With intent: Try to execute a move from a manual in a static environment, and you're doomed to fail. The techniques are best done at an appropriate fighting speed, in a fightign environment. Fight with intent. Historical technique isn't for a static environment.

There's much more, which I will put up soon. I'm going to sit down with Don J. and compile our thoughts together. We'll also start teaching at SCA events, once we have our schedule worked out.

Historical Swordfighting Class

This Thursday, April 24, Don Justinian and I are teaching a class about what it helps to know to begin studying historical swordsmanship. It starts at 7:30PM, at J's house in Glassboro. For directions, e-mail me at mikewgoodman (at) gmail.com, or Justinian at justinian_t (at) verizon.net. Its a great class for people interested in starting to learn historical swordfighting.

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.

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.

Progress: game updates and a future for me as a swordfighter

I absolutely promise an update this week.

Subjects I'm going to cover over the next few days:

1: (Gaming) Recent gaming experiments: Dr Who RPG using D20 Modern (what should be the DR of a Cyberman?).

2: (Gaming) Higher-level D&D: my challenge at keeping it fun, as well as having appropriate-powered challenges.

3: (SCA) Historical Swordsmanship: My first steps at designing a set of lessons based around Capo Ferro's rapier manual. Also, some news about my future in swordfigting.

I'll also post little bits and pieces about my game's development. My design work has been sliding a bit; work stresses are keeping me occupied, and unfortunately I haven't had the opportunity to sit down and just bang out all the work I need to right now. At this moment, I'm working on the skills mechanic. The core of the dice mechanic seems to work. I'm working on skill lists and groupings, bare-bones notes of skill descriptions and roles they'd have in the game, and how to integrate skill purchases into character creation.

I think one of my big problems, when it comes to doing game design or focusing on studying historical swrodsmanship, is my lack of focus. I still don't have a solid outline and timetable for my gaming project. My work interpreting swordfigting manuals seems to take a back-burner to other, less intense hobbies. I feel like if I want to make any significant progress in either one, I need to really work out a solid schedule. Right now, I work on both of these in my spare time. I need to treat the game design as a job (which, ultimately, it is...I'd like to see it successful enough to at least make a small profit).

So, I have something like a plan. Part of that plan is to use this blog to help chart my progress. I want to journal the creative process for both the game and swordfighting. It will also help encourage me; I've found that when I see things in print, and get feedback, I'm encouraged to do more. It wakes me up.

So, lets take the next step.

(By the way, I wanted to mention that my wife takes the best photos...the shot of the Cthulhu dice and my portrait were just sone by her...I think she's doing great. I might be able to talk her into taking some pictures of some fencers to post up here, soon).

Fencing practice after-action report

I had a fantastic fencing practice last night. I got a great deal out of two fights and an evening of discussion and looking through a manual. A good amount of the evening was devoted to working our way through a very small section of a Renaissance fencing manual (Duncan, Lissa...who was the author, again?). We took a close look at the way a particular maneuver was described, and tried different variations...the usual stuff you should be doing when working with the interpretation of a fencing manual. Very enjoyable.

I talked with a couple of people about how they fight, and it helped alot. Often, I don't completely see how some people execute some types of attacks, and I get stumped. I learned more about body movement and directions of attacks out of a small conversation.

The sitting and talking about how we fence helped me a great deal. This was exactly the night I needed to re-energize me to fence more.

Am I content or am I in a slump? Teaching rapier in the SCA

I got involved in fencing in the SCA completely by accident. I was running a Star Wars role-playing game at a friend's house on Sundays, and he had fencing practice on Sundays, as well. I went to his house early, and we all went to practice. I went just to kill some time and hang out.

One of the fencers there talked to me a little, and eventually dropped a sword into my hand. I expected some kind of French-grip epee, or a pistol-grip foil (I'd seen them in catalogs, and they totally destroyed any desire I had to pick up a fencing sword). Instead, it was a swept-hilted rapier (with a schlager blade, which I'd never seen before). He showed me how to stand, how to advance with it and retreat. It just felt right.

I was hooked.

I've fallen in and out of love with SCA fencing a hundred times. My enthusiasm right now is waning, partially because of medical issues and work stresses. My students really are the reason I make it to practice. My enthusiasm and passion will pick up again, I'm sure, once I spend more time on the lists, once I make it to a few more events.

So, most of my work nowadays is interpreting historical swordfighting manuals. When I teach rapier in the SCA, some of the principals I use come straight from the manuals. I focus on the practical application of those principals...they're a foundation to build from. I've found that to be a pretty strong and effective technique.

So right now, most of my attention is focused on teaching. Once I get some more energy, and feel better, I'll make it to more tournaments to compete. Right now, though, I'm content to teach. When I need to wake up out of my complacency, I just remember the first time I had a sword dropped into my hand, and how it felt just right.

Innaugural post: gaming, SCA, and why not LiveJournal?

So, I've moved here from LiveJournal...I wanted a place to jot down notes on gaming, SCA stuff, and the more fun parts of my life. The LJ is still out there, but most of my work will be here from here foreward.