Welcome

Welcome.

It is my great pleasure to share with you what I know about what I believe to be the True Art, Science and Spirit of the Sword.

A wise man once said, “If you have eight hours to chop down a tree, spend the first seven hours sharpening the axe.”

So this initial entry of The Swordmaster’s Grimoire is about sharpening the axe, to tell you what it is, why it is, who we are, so that you will be able to derive the optimum benefit from your visit.

What is this blog about?

Someone once said, “Any science, sufficiently advanced, is indistinguishable from magic.”

Combat in general, and the use of the sword in particular, are quite scientific, and yet, at times so subtle and sophisticated as to be “indistinguishable from magic,” at least to the untutored eye. But, as with “magical,” illusions, once you know how the trick works, you can never be fooled by it again, and the gaff seems so obvious that you can’t imagine how you were ever fooled by it in the first place.

I refer to the things I’ve learned about the sword and about combat –technically, “behavioral hoplology,” ie, the study of human behavior in combat – as my “grimoire,” my book of “magical” spells, formulas and incantations. My “bag of tricks.” A magician’s toolbox, if you will.

This blog is about sword-fighting or “fencing” in particular, but also about combat in general. It’s also about how the same principles apply in some other areas such as horsemanship, music, fire-fighting, even business and personal relationships. I love finding connections between things that seem on the surface, unconnected

Why another damn blog?

That’s an easy one.

In France, one of the places that brought sword-fighting to the peak of its development, you can’t spit without hitting a fencing master (“maitre d’armes d’escrime"). Fencing salles are as common as bowling alleys are in the States.

But here, fencing masters are a rarity, few and far between. Most people simply don’t have a professional handy to answer their questions, help them work through problems, explain the combat logic behind the “rules,” and generally offer guidance in their practice.

The result is that quite often we have a situation in which the “most experienced” fencer is cast in the role of “teacher,” even if that “experience” amounts to only a single college semester of a beginners’ class.

And these unfortunate folks do the best they can.

Sometimes an interested person will form a group, either live or on-line, and try to figure things out that way. There are times when group brainstorming is just the thing for finding creative ways to solve a problem. But there are some things that can’t be done “by committee,” as anyone who has ever served on one can tell you.

Unfortunately, there is no known mechanism by which a sufficient number of persons, each of whom are ignorant on a given subject, can, by collaborating, spontaneously generate knowledge of it. That is, If you don’t know how to ride a horse, you’re not going to figure it out by asking other people who also don’t know how to ride a horse. Or as a mentor once noted, “If you want to win the broad jump event, you need one guy who can jump 8 feet, not 8 guys who can jump 1 foot each.”

The trouble with being the local “top gun,” is that it can pretty easily go to your head, and make you lose your perspective. When folks start treating you like you know what you’re doing, there’s a tendency to play that role and to act as if you know what you’re doing, even when you don’t.

Here’s another bit of wisdom I like:

The less you know, the more you THINK you know, because you don't know enough to realize how MUCH there is to know.

The more you know, the more you realize how LITTLE you know because you know enough to see how MUCH there is to know.

Now, by that measure, I must know something because I often feel like I don’t know anything at all!

But there is one thing I know for sure:

At present, the sword is an endangered species.

At one time, the title “Maitre d’Armes” may have meant something. Back in the days when disputes might be settled with blood in a remote private location rather than with ink in a courtroom. In those times, a man who made his livelihood by teaching swordfighting had to know his business. Dead clients don’t pay – and make for very bad advertising.

Today, no one’s life is at stake.

Since the “sport” of fencing finally abandoned its traditional roots of verisimilitude and combat-logic in the early 1980’s, only a very few have continued to practice fencing as an art based on real-life combat. Most fencing masters were employed by schools and colleges that unwittingly subscribed to the new and antithetical “interpretation” of the rules, which contradicted hundreds of years of knowledge and experience.

Whether they agreed or not, they had to “go along to get along” and keep their jobs.

Now we are left with the vestigial remains of “fencing,” resembling real-world, life-or-death fighting about as much as the vestigial hind legs of a Baleen whale resemble real, functioning legs.

The sport called “fencing” shares with sword-fighting the name, but little else. There is nothing left in the sport that even remotely resembles the manner in which a sword could or should be used --- always assuming, of course that the bearer wishes to survive the encounter suffering the least possible injury.

Fencing Masters at one time were expected to have a comprehensive knowledge of the sword, able to teach “any aspect of fencing to anyone at any level for any reason.” Being a “coach” for an athletic contest was one small part of the job. Staging sword stunts for theatre and film was another. Developing self-discipline and character in children was another. Providing healthy recreation that kept the elderly mentally and physically agile was yet another.

Note that only ONE of these jobs was primarily focused on the winning of athletic contests.

Now, however, “winning” is all that matters.

You don’t need a fencing master just for that.

All you need is a coach.

So mostly - with one or two notable exceptions - we're not making any more fencing masters.

Just coaches.

When I was in the service, aboard ship we had a hospital corpsman, who, like all hospital corpsmen, was addressed by the sobriquet, “Doc.” While he was adept at first aid and doling out aspirin, he certainly wasn’t a real doctor, and I believe he knew that as well as anyone. He wouldn’t have attempted major surgery, and he certainly wouldn’t expect actual MD’s to address him as “doctor,” and consider him a “colleague.”

Much the same is true of the new fencing coaches. Except that they want to be called "doctor."

With the “sport” of fencing breaking away and going off on its own tangent, the traditional practice of fencing became known as “classical” fencing to distinguish it from what had previously to that time been known only as “incorrect” fencing, now referred to as “Olympic” fencing. I confess I’m partly to blame for that terminology. Um, quite a large part, I’m afraid. My only defense is that I was trying to be courteous. I think that was a mistake.

“Classical fencing” has no centralized organization, and many of the people out there who use the term don’t even agree on what it is, what they are doing or why they do it, and a least a few apparently haven’t even the vaguest notion.

Some think it means fencing without the electrical scoring apparatus.

Some think it refers to a particular time period, reducing it to a “re-enactment” that makes a fetish out of using the terms and wearing the apparel of a century or more ago.

Some religiousify it (if I may borrow the term from Woody Alllen) seeming to confuse the “great masters” with Moses and other biblical heroes, and treating the words written by anyone no longer available for comment as if they were divinely inspired.

If fencing is to survive, it is imperative that those few of us who were properly taught the true art, science and spirit of the sword, and have remained steadfast in those things, share that knowledge with those who desire to learn it.

We must find ways to create community, and to share information -- even if, initially at least, there is some disagreement on a few relatively minor points, such as there has always been between the various schools of Italy and France.

To that end, in order to share what we know, and what we do, so that perhaps the sword may survive a little longer, we have created this blog.

We encourage others to start their own, and share what they know, too.

Who the hell am I, anyway?

If you’re going to assess my credibility in any meaningful way, you have to know something about me. Here’s what I think is relevant:

I started studying combat when I was 13. A fat, wheezy child, I grew weary of being the preferred target of every playground bully and street thug in my hood. For me, “martial arts” was never primarily about self-mastery, or achieving universal harmony or enlightenment. I only discovered that aspect much later, when I accidentally tripped and fell in it. For me, fighting was about fighting, pure and simple. It’s doing unto others what they are trying to do unto you, only doing it harder, faster, smarter and more effectively. “To hit without being hit.” That’s the sine qua non of combat.

I’ve spent 40 years studying fighting. I’ve practiced several flavors of karate (highest rank achieved third degree black belt), aikido, kung-fu, iaido and kendo and points East. I’ve done Western boxing and fencing, two close cousins which remain my favorites.

For three years, I was an apprentice of Maitre Jean-Jacques Gillet, who was then the head fencing coach at Cornell University. In 1980 I earned his diploma and passed the fencing master exam that was given at that time by the now-defunct US Academy of Armes.

I’ve been teaching professionally ever since. I’ve taught self-defense, karate, and boxing fundamentals, in addition to fencing. I currently teach Classical fencing, Renaissance Fencing (rapier and dagger) and Medieval Fencing (long sword and short sword) at Cornell and at my own studio in beautiful, sunny Ithaca, NY. I’ve done some mounted combat, using both the lance and the sword, and we’re developing a beginners’ class on that.

A few years ago, with the invaluable assistance of my prevost who did most of the heavy lifting, I put together a little book called Classical Fencing: The Martial Art of Incurable Romantics, largely because I grew weary of making reams of photocopies for my students every semester. We're now considering writing up something more on "technique."

At this point I think it's de rigeur to toss in a couple of personal nuggets:

I have a masters degree in organizational communication. Don't ask me why.

Horses are my religion. I prefer their company to that of human beings by several orders of magnitude.

I write a little, compose a little music. I like everything from country to classical, with a special fondness for jazz and blues.

I read a lot about Law, but apart from that, don't generally read fiction.

I've become an amateur "expert" on the psychopathic personality, but a little too late.

I have an allergic reaction to bullies. It makes them break out in bruises.

My favorite color is..... no, that's enough. We probably won't be dating.