“These were the methods of the old masters, that is, of the most excellent and celebrated among them; such as Tapa of Milan, the Beccaroni, Mancino from Bologna, and infinite other valiant men of this profession.”

— Camillo Palladini (Terminiello, pg. 59)

Few fencers or fencing masters are as celebrated as Tapa {Tappa} of Milan. What was required to develop such an epitaph as that above, and how do we—as modern readers—separate the wheat from the chaff, and understand what it meant to be great? How do we become great?

The inherent challenge in answering the above questions is that our only data related to the quality of a swordsman is often the outcome of certain encounters. For example, did they win a duel? Yes. Does that make them great? Not necessarily. It makes them better than the person they dueled with, but it doesn’t mean that they were great. That said, the importance of certain duels bestows greatness upon fencers who could have otherwise been considered mediocre. Were they great, or did they simply do something great? Is doing so sufficient to warrant the moniker of greatness?

Furthermore, we could take this into the realm of fencing authors or fencing masters. We know that they were a master because they style themselves as such, are mentioned as such, or we assume that they were because they produced a publication on fencing. But, in the hierarchy of mastery, how do we determine their quality? There seem to be a number of extant contemporary sources that loathe false masters, and some that are complementary but disagree with key core tenets of other masters. Are our surviving authors good masters or bad masters? What determines the qualities of a master, and at what point were they great?

These are some of the challenges we will face. The answer—of course—inevitably lies in Aristotle.

In a previous article on the Virtues of Fencing, we discussed how the martial virtues can be used as a path to mastery. Principle to which Aristotle’s golden mean, eudaimonia, and his concept of virtuous exemplars were key. In this article, we will examine the latter more thoroughly by taking a look at a number of characters who were recorded as great fencers and great masters to help us define and understand what a contemporary exemplar looked like. These figures will include Tapa of Milan, Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi, Silvio Piccolomini, Achille and Sebastiano Marozzo, and more.

To help us understand what made these great fencers and great masters great, we’re going to explore a number of contemporary sources that will shed some light on the standard of greatness and exceptionalism that can be used to measure our exemplars.

What is Greatness?

We’ll begin this expose with a beautiful analogy drawn between the art of writing and rhetoric and the art of fencing by the mid-16th century author Carlo Lenzoni. In his In difesa della lingua Fiorentina, e di Dante, published in 1556, wherein he states:

GEL: [...]Forgive my ignorance of the names of the instruments of the arts and of actions, which have not yet been written down by good authors. And finally, I concede and agree to what many of you desire and say you will do, that is, to write using the words of Petrarch and Boccaccio; That in any case, for all this, you cannot offer everything that you ought to.

S. L: And why?

GEL: For many reasons.

S. L: Tell me, please.

GEL: Here it is. One reason is that, not having a sure practice of the whole language, and not knowing entirely the native force and natural friendship of words with one another, you cannot use them with that certainty and grace that befits a good and beautiful speaker. And in this you are like a brave soldier who, without having learned at length to handle all weapons in the schools of fencing, with the practice of only those he has chosen, he is confident in his actions. And even though he is very skilled and trained in those weapons, he moves quickly, wastes no time, parries confidently, strikes boldly, and ultimately defeats his enemy. However, he cannot do so in such a way that he displays that air, dexterity, eye, falsehood, bravery, readiness, agility, aptitude, proportion, and beauty in all his actions, movements, and postures that would be required and necessary for a perfect combatant.

—Carlo Lenzoni, pg. 20-21 (München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek -- 4 P.o.it. 131 x)

Boccaccio, Petrarch, and Cicero were all virtuous exemplars of the art of rhetoric. Here, Lenzoni’s dialogue examines the difference between being ‘good’ and being ‘great’. Greatness is more than goodness. To Lenzoni, a great writer—like a great swordsman—possesses innate qualities that transcend the standard of goodness, which we can simply call proficiency in this context, something that he identifies as a passable knowledge, and in some cases is better than, but not complete or perfect.

Let's parse this out a bit. A good swordsman is confident in his actions, very skilled and trained, moves quickly, wastes no time, parries confidently, and strikes boldly. Then we can add the qualities of perfection: displaying that air, dexterity, eye, falsehood, bravery, readiness, agility, aptitude, proportion, and beauty in all their actions, movements, and postures. By all measures, both the good and the perfect, or in our case great, fencers possess the martial virtues of celerity, fortitude, prudence, and audacity. What is different about the expressions of these virtues between the good and perfect fencers, in Lenzoni’s example, is the number of overlaps among the virtues.

Allow me to clarify.

I define the four cardinal martial virtues like this:

• Fortitude: Courage to stand your ground and endure.

• Audacity: The excess of courage, Aristotle’s thymos, Aquinas’ irascible passion, Machiavelli’s animo; boldness.

• Celerity: Skill, speed developed through training, and a precision of movement.

• Prudence: Wisdom, experience, cunning, and awareness.

By those definitions, we can deduce the following about the traits of a good fencer: they move quickly (celerity), waste no time (prudence), parry confidently (fortitude), and strike boldly (audacity).

For a perfect fencer, the virtues begin to harmonize with one another and become an amalgamation beyond their base qualities. In order to explain this more succinctly, I’ve produced the following visual: (Key) red is audacity, blue is celerity, green is fortitude, and yellow is prudence.

That is: bravery (fortitude and audacity), air (celerity, audacity and fortitude), aptitude (prudence, fortitude and audacity), readiness (fortitude and prudence), proportion (fortitude, prudence and celerity), agility (celerity and prudence), eye (celerity, prudence and audacity), falsehood (celerity and audacity).

This is not an impeachable attempt at synthesizing this data by any means. It is oversimplified to match the overlaps in the Euler diagram, and that’s okay. The intent of this exercise is to communicate the essence of mastery or perfection that Lenzoni is presenting here, and its imperfection is a testament to the quality of the point being made. Goodness starts with an expression of the four base virtues, and the skill of a fencer increases as these virtues come together to form higher qualities, until finally they coalesce in perfection.

Now, perfection is obviously unattainable, but this is a crucial tool for both individuals seeking perfection or mastery and teachers who desire to help their students achieve perfection or mastery. Take a moment and consider where your traits as a fencer fall on this diagram. Are you close to perfection, second tier, third tier, or are you still struggling to master the basic virtues? How can you adapt your training to build the more integrated qualities that will lead you closer to perfection? What about your students?

That’s a lot to think about. Let’s make it even more complicated…

To Aristotle, the virtues are entirely subjective. We can only measure what we perceive as virtue against virtuous exemplars—the highest good. As Bob Powers pointed out in our recent interview for HEMA practitioners, this is or should be the sources themselves. For Bob, that is Liechtenauer; for me, it’s Manciolino and Marozzo. Who is yours?

But there’s another caveat that relates to the opening questions of this article. What if your exemplar isn’t actually good? How do know?

Virtuous Exemplars:

Achille and Sebastiano Marozzo:

Many readers of Achille Marozzo’s Opera Nova will complain that his book is disorganized, that he is not a great writer, and sometimes it seems like he kind-of makes stuff up, but was he a good master? How can we decide? Historically speaking, the Opera Nova was one of the most reprinted and widely distributed fencing texts of all time. Even figures beyond the Alps, such as William of Orange and Paulus Hector Mair, had copies (1561), and it was in circulation in France (Lyon) by no later than 15631, while becoming well known in England by at least 16102. But—in Aristotle’s day, there were also so-called philosophers or masters of debate who were widely popular and even spat their rhetoric in rhapsody to the enjoyment of their throngs of Greco hip-hop admirers, the dreaded sophists. Though not all bad, more than a handful were just fast-talkers and hacks. So, the question becomes: is popularity a good metric for goodness or greatness?

Subjectively, you could simply say Marozzo is your favorite, and that would suffice. Objectively, we can look at how Marozzo perceived himself, how he frames the purpose of writing his book, and how well he achieved the goals and standards that he set in his publication.

Purpose: Marozzo opens his Opera Nova by stating, “And this is made to give light to generous men, who delight in the virtues of weapons, and also for those who want to teach others.” (Ferguson, Wiketenauer) To which he later adds, “Furthermore, let every reader be advised that in this present work or volume, I continuously address Sebastiano, my dearest son, to whom I have imparted all this art of mine and every other manner or kind of martial art, learned by me and for the most part newly composed and created, and which I have impressed upon his memory and practice, and continue to impress upon him daily.”

If Marozzo’s objective was to give light to generous men who delight in the virtues of arms, and want to teach others, and his primary audience was his son Sebastiano, then how did he do?

Lelio Tedeschi says this about Sebastiano, “[…] after lengthy discourse with the principal Masters of Italy, and in particular with the late Master Sebastiano Marozzi, most excellent in his time […].” Then, in Sebastiano’s 1580 funerary record the register recorded, “The illustrious man, the lord Sebastiano, son of Achille Marozzo, also known as Tamburini, citizen of Bologna, residing near the Chapel of San Giorgio, once practiced at the public expense in that same city in the art of swordsmanship, or as it is commonly known, «fencing».” Perhaps more important than the accolades heaped upon Sebastiano was the fact that his son, Achille II, became a fencing master himself. Not only did Achille Marozzo impart the art upon his son, but his son also became an accomplished master (most excellent in his time, and a principle master of Italy) and was proficient enough to teach his own son to become a master. Pretty good.

What about his other students? While we don’t know a lot about Giacomo Crafter, whom Marozzo co-dedicated his 5th book dagger section to, we can safely say that he did not get stabbed to death. Objective achieved. We can't say the same about Giovanni Battista da i Letti, because his history has yet to be uncovered (though this is changing rapidly).

Emilio Marrescotti, on the other hand, is a well-known quantity. As a Padrino, he served Cristoforo Guasco in Ferrara in 1528, and a man named Giovanni Battista (could be our missing dagger student, da i Letti—who knows) in Florence in 1540; a role which presumably had a training component built into it. He also lived up to the epitaph as a great captain, serving Guido II Rangoni (Marozzo’s patron) and his son Baldassare Rangoni in Modena, alongside his fellow student Giovanni Maria Gabiato.

His most renowned student, militarily, was Battista Pelacani. In the 1520’s, Battista served under Captain Giovanni Paolo Sforza at the siege of Lodi in 1528 and later under Ferrante Gonzaga during the 1536 Imperial invasion of Provence. In Paolo Giovio’s Delle Istorie Del Suo Tempo, at the siege of Lodi he was rewarded for his “singular readiness in that perilous assault.” In 1536 after he is captured3 at Brignoles, it is remarked that he was “a man of courageous spirit and very handsome body, and therefore most dear to Don Ferrante {Gonzaga}.”

We would be remiss to exclude Guido II Rangoni, who trained with Marozzo in the school of Guido Antonio di Luca—in whose school it was said that more great warriors emerged than from the belly of the Trojan Horse—and later made Marozzo the principal fencing master in Modena. Guido was a consummate swordsman himself, remembered by Viggiani as “a rare man, excellent in the wielding of arms.” In 1516, the year in which Marozzo started writing his Opera Nova, Guido dueled Ugo Pepoli at Castello Gonzaga in Mantua, and by some accounts was the victor of the bout. Ugo himself was praised by Viggiani for being “a man with a great heart and of perfect judgment,” who has participated in “a thousand beautiful enterprises, bringing excellent fame to his country in distant lands.”

So, with this brief historiography in mind, was Marozzo exemplary? Marozzo actually makes the case for himself, stating:

So, reader who reads this, do not resent it, because I am certain that slanderers and detractors of others efforts and virtues will try to denigrate and completely erase its good reputation; nor will these friends seek to place it in its deserved place, like the strenuous captain Emilio Marescotti, captain Giovanni Maria Gabiato, and captain Battista Pellacani, along with the many other worthy knights-at-arms who through my industry and concern can be seen at the height of this noble art and glorious virtue…

— Achille Marozzo (Swanger)

Before we answer in the affirmative, we should define what it meant to be a master. Manciolino is very critical of the current fencing master ethos in his introduction, talking about how false masters will post their guild charters around the classroom, but they're about as useful as charters on a wine barrel. Stating that, he desires, “to hold to a more useful path, noting that the school should be devoted to offering some instruction of the art,” clarifying his objective, which is ultimately to be useful to his scholars.

"It is the wont of the majority of the commonest maestri of the art of the rational blows of fencing to affix in the highest and most solemn corner of their school a long array of paper, wherein they claim their {charters} are written. And in truth, whosoever reads them does find them to be {charters}, but rather those that wine vendors place on barrels, a thing more monstrous than human. And how can he be human, if the greed and rapacity of the maestro is openly displayed? But how human of a thing is it to help others, and to bear witness by oneself that some are not born thus rapacious and hard-hearted of instinct? And in my opinion things are placed into the school only for their profit, and not that of others. Hundreds are their {charters}, for in them is contained nothing other than the putting of a price on the masterful play of this art, as the virtue of arms has fallen to such baseness that it is wished by them to find her holy members sold at a price through the schools, boasting, without consideration that the dull and the subtle wits can not equally bear this yoke upon their shoulders, and that the art is not a harlot to suffer itself to be sold. And I wish to hold to a more useful path, noting that the school should be devoted to offering some instruction of the art. It is of more worth to me to be useful to my scholars with this work than, through the putting of a price to the play, to provide myself alone with great benefit.”

—Antonio Manciolino (Swanger; Wiktenauer)

Giovanni dall'Agocchie goes into more depth, explaining the process of certification and what an exam of mastery would look like.

{Theory and practice, foundations of the arts.}

Gio. Now that we are so far advanced, I don’t want to refrain from telling you all of my opinions on this. You know, then, that all the liberal arts are comprised of theory and practice.

Likewise is it so for this one, and both theory and practice must be considered. The [7verso] theory of the art of fencing teaches with reason the ways to defend oneself and harm the enemy. The practice, then, is that which one acquires from familiarity with its operation, that is, by long use and continuous practice. But some Masters of this art direct it toward bad ends, because not realizing that theory and practice are different, as soon as they possess a bit of theory, they set themselves to teach; which occurs only because the ancient custom of the creation of Masters has fallen into oblivion. And know that, not long ago, even as when someone had to attain the excellent degree of a doctorate, and that first a diligent examination of his knowledge was performed, and then if it was judged sufficient, that the privilege would be granted to him; just so was it observed by Masters of fencing. For first they would examine one who wanted to teach others, to determine whether he knew the theory of fencing and all the other things necessary to it. And then they set a scholar facing him, making him throw blows badly, and place himself in guard poorly, and this was done in order to learn whether he recognized what the scholar was deficient in. After this, they put him to the test with various good scholars, whereupon, if he were sufficiently successful, he was granted privileges by the other Masters, and with his patents he was able to open a school. And these were authentic Masters, something truly worthy of such an art, because it should not be permitted for someone to teach that in which he had not been sufficiently instructed.

Lep. They do a great evil, who, to their guilt, lack good customs.

Gio. This is a defect born of time, which corrupts everything eventually, and of the Masters as well, who allow the validity of their privileges to be nullified. But to continue the discussion we began, I say that now it’s entirely the opposite, because [8recto] many are seen who work as Masters, and teach whatever their learning in the trade may be. Therefore, those for whom it turns out badly have only themselves to blame, since they let the discipline be brought down by such deeds. Because (as I said) it is one thing to know, and another to teach. The difference is plain; because one who only has practice is good for laboring for himself; but he who has theory is good for others; and he who has both theory and practice is good for himself and others. And such were those who were authentically made Masters.

—Giovanni dall’Agocchie (Swanger, pg. 6-7)

Marozzo also laments that the old methods of certification no longer existed, and like Manciolino, discusses the prevalence of false masters.

This occurs because there no longer are, as used to be customary in ancient times, authenticated maestri, who, if they hadn’t first granted their licenses by the other maestri, could not take students; whereas today, anyone can work as a maestro, and take students, and no one is in charge of this. Because of this I want to make everyone understand that it is of great importance to understand these things, insofar as today many valiant youths and experienced men are found who are good and practiced fencers, but are not, however, excellent at teaching, because they have not been mentored by maestri who have equipped them with the means to teach others, and because of this, they err. Seeing such errors occur, this situation has motivated me passionately to apply my wits and my art to advise such of these as take delight in such virtue.

—Achille Marozzo (Swanger, pg. 189)

Therefore, according to the Bolognese authors, a good master is trained by a credentialed master, can effectively teach both theory and practice, can recognize the deficiencies in their students in both the formation of their guards and the delivery of their attacks, and ultimately impart the art in their subjects. There was also a public certification, similar to a doctoral thesis or exam, according to dall’Agocchie. A bad master is someone who is wholly driven by self-interest and profit, or someone who only understands the art in theory and not in practice, and has suspect origins.

Given the historiographical context and the definition of mastery provided by Marozzo and his peers, I believe we can safely say that Marozzo was a great master and far exceeded the objective of his “humble work”. That is, he succeeded in “giv(ing) light to (those) who delight in the virtues of arms, and want to teach others” and in turn created a resplendent legacy of generational mastery. It's a master class in pedagogy and student development. An insight into being a master from a man who trained under a great master.

But—was Marozzo a great swordsman? We don't know, in all of the accounts we’re given he’s recorded as a worthy or reputed master of arms, self styled the Maestro Generale de l’Arte dell Armi, and the practical implementation of the art was paramount to the qualification of master—it’s hard to believe that he wasn’t ‘good’ given his profession, yet we’re left without a qualifying epitaph or historical anecdote to lean on in this regard. There are plenty of modern examples of great teachers (masters) who are not great fencers, so it’s safe to assume that such an arrangement was possible in ancient times.

For example, in Jerónimo Sánchez de Carranza’s De la Filosofia de las Armas y de su Destreza y la Aggression y Defensa Cristiana (c.1569 p.1582), the Master in the dialogue claims to have been trained by Marozzo, and is scorned by Carranza’s principal protagonist Phylandro (124v-125r):

“Are you a diestro?” said Phylandro. “And Master of Arms? You seem to me full of words. Wait — let me take off the little cap and see what you know.”

To which the Master replied, now more composed, “Yes sir, I am so — and examined by Achille Marozzo of Bologna, Master General, a most skilled man in every kind of arms, like an Emerenciano. It is true that you seem to me an honorable youth, and since you entered I have observed your good will, for you carry the sword properly; and if a year or two I were to teach you, I know you would profit.”

“I thank you,” said Phylandro, “but know this, sir — I am a trained swordsman.”

“The greatest honor I possess,” answered the Master, “is that I eat my bread by earning it. So let us understand one another in couplets.”

“For the bad Masters I say so,” replied Phylandro, “and for those who, without being diestros as they ought to be, teach others, deceiving people with their words and inventions. You well know how in this art, as in others, there are few good and many bad; and since it is so subtle, great judgment and understanding are required to arrive at proportion and the purest subtlety. Thus the true Master, to do well one good thing as it ought to be done, must have very sound judgment to place it properly; clear understanding and sharp wit to comprehend at once the disposition of the spirit of the one before him; and such judgment with good customs that the Master to teach, experienced and practiced in the things he treats, and without envy to make himself understood with diligence, applying what he says or does according to the understanding of the one who learns. For he loses what he says when the listener’s wit cannot grasp it, giving him reasons equal to his own — that is to say, speaking to him in his own language. On the contrary, as you know better than I, what is bad — as what is seen in false Destreza — is to do ill in order to do it, and to err in order to strike rightly; for if what you are going to do is bad, and you do it badly and present it as good and as the force of its principal element — does it not seem something of what I have said?

“The first is worth nothing because it does not exist,” answered the Master. “The latter I understand much better than he who said it — by the life of my children! And thus I see myself outside this hunt.”

“Do you earn your living at this trade?” asked Phylandro.

“Because I say so,” answered the Master, “it seems to you there is someone in the world like me — but I do not understand. Lady, ask of these here.”

“Oh Eudemio, what trouble! I feel so choleric that I think if dagger points did not prick, they would pierce through the very feet.”

“What do you say?” answered Phylandro. “Are you in your senses? I think we must laugh.”

“Have no fear of that,” said the Master.

To which Eudemio replied, thinking Phylandro was angered, “Do not grow angry, Phylandro, for your life’s sake.”

“I am,” said the Master, “the one who is angered — because, having given such good instruction in all that you have asked, you cast doubt upon it and make mockery of what I teach.”

“I swear,” replied Eudemio, “that Phylandro does not mock without much reason—and he now truly knows it.”

— Carança, 123v-124r

There are a number of things to consider in this dialogue. Foremost, this is a proposed student of Marozzo, and not Marozzo himself. However, the criticisms ring with a sense of familiarity—and carry some of the weight of modern complaints about the style of Marozzo's work. One need only read Pachecho to see what I mean. In this case, Phylandro’s challenge in this dialogue begs the same question analyzed above: could the master put his words into action?

Historically, the Spanish had plenty of beef with the Bolognese after they were absolutely handled by Girolamo Pepoli, Camillo Gozzadini and their cadre of Bolognese bravi during Charles V’s coronation festivities in 1530, and the trouble they received in the mountains between Bologna and Modena between 1532-1535.

To the contrary of Caranza’s veiled criticism, the contemporary Florentine Chronicler, Antonio Francesco Doni had this to say about Marozzo in La libraria del Doni Fiorentino (1550):

This man was, and is, a most excellent master of fencing; he has made good soldiers and valiant men in arms, and continually teaches in public. He had many designs made and engraved of the methods used to offend and defend oneself with various kinds of weapons; and he had them printed. A work truly good and useful, for which he greatly deserves praise.

—Doni, pg. 5v

While Gustav Hergesell discusses the Italian fencing traditions and quotes the illustrator of Achille Marozzo’s 1568 posthumous re-publication, Giulio Fontana—who was likely commissioned by Sebastiano Marozzo—as having this to say about Achille Marozzo’s legacy:

The fact that fencing schools actually existed in Italy also confirms the wonderful development that the art of fencing had experienced right at the beginning of the 16th century.

The painter Giulio Fontana, who initiated the third edition of Achille Marozzo’s work, published in Venice in 1568, which work is dedicated to Signor Don Giovanni Manriche, speaks on this occasion of Marozzo with the highest praise.

“Achilles Marozzo,” says Fontana, “who wrote for the general good, is, as is well known to the world, an excellent teacher who has trained an infinite number of brave students in the noble art.”

Marozzo gives advice in some places to those fencers who are called upon to further teach and spread the doctrines of the art of fencing; he recommends to them that the teachers should under no circumstances arm their students before they have been sufficiently familiarized with the principles of the art.

—Hergsell, pg. 18-19

Notably, there is still no remark on his ability to wield a sword, only to teach or convey. Marozzo’s fame would continue well into the 17th century, due in large part to the number of print runs his book undertook, and the care with which Sebastiano reimagined his father’s work in the 1568 re-illustrated and edited edition, which was afforded multiple print runs of its own. To that point, in Tomasso Grazoni’s (b. March 1549–June 8th 1589†) La Piazza Vniversale Di Tvtte Le Professioni Del Mondo, dedicated to Alphonso II d’Este, in 1585, he not only references Marozzo’s work and legacy, but shows a real familiarity with his work, discussing the guards and pedagogical model outlined by the Bolognese maestro.

OF FENCING AND WRESTLING, or Athletes. Discourse XCVI.

Those who in ancient times among the Romans taught the art of fencing, a laborious and demanding yet convenient, beneficial, and health-giving art for knights and soldiers, received the Latin name of Laniste. From them were sold to showmasters called Munerarii, and by the Greeks, in their own language Agonotheta, those novices or Tironi, who, having learned the art of arms under their discipline, performed in public shows and boldly performed music by the name of gladiators, among whom Plutarch lists Martianus in the Life of Galba; & Horatio Veiano in an Epistle, where he says,

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The age is not the same, nor the mind. Veianius, with his arms hung on the doorpost of Hercules, lies hidden in the countryside, so as not to beseech the crowd on the final sand. (Stiffler Translation)

Thus Marcus Tullius lists Ersenius and Pacidianus in his Orator as men excellent and singular in this profession. The principal task of these Masters of Fencing is to teach (as Achille Marozzo and Iacomo Modenese well discuss in their books on fencing) young men to take the sword in hand, and to make them understand what is the true edge and what is the false edge of the said sword; and then all the main blows that are made with the sword, both with one hand and with two, that is, mandritto tondo, mandritto fendente, mandritto suqalembrato, mandritto redoppio, and falso dritto, and also montante, which blows are all made with the forehand; & from the left you have to teach him the roversio tonodo, the roverscio squalembrato, the roverscio fedente, the roverscio redoppio, the falso manco, the falso dritto, & that it is a backhand, and never teach him to strike without his parry: so they have to practice for several days, & diligently examine from guard to guard, especially in porta di ferro larga, or porta di ferro stretta, or alta, & in coda lunga e alta, & in coda lunga e stretta, & cingiara porta di ferro, & in guardia alta, & in coda lunga distesa, & after practicing them with yourself, & senior students, & correct them where they fail, & give them good and strong blows, so that they become good at parrying, & develop strong arms, until they are ready to be put to the game: taking care to teach them very well, either to fight with edged weapons, or with weapons rebated, where sometimes a targa or rotella is used, or a large buckler with a single sword, sometimes a sword and cape, sometimes a sword and dagger, sometimes two swords, and one paces from guard to guard, forward, backward, from the side, and traverse, and accompanying the foot with the hand and the hand with the foot, to display all the art absolutely, which is described very well by the divine Ariosto in the duel between Sacripante and Rinaldo in that singular stanza:

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They show, now with long blows, now with feints, and scanty cuts, 
you see, what masters of the game they are. 
Now you see them rage haughtily, now cower;  
Now cover themselves, now show themselves a little;  
Now grow forward, now retreat,  
Parry blows, and relinquish space;  
Turning around, and from where one yields,  
The other immediately places his foot.

Now the whole art in general includes the master, the fencer, the sword, the bucklers, the buckler’s pen, the gloves, and fencing with every kind of mode, that is, wide and narrow play, game of sword and buckler, sword and rotella, sword and sword cape, and dagger, sword alone, dagger alone, two-handed sword, half-sword {mezza spada}, and polearms; and then binding false with false, true edge with true edge, making an assault, of two or more, coming to grips, of which the aforementioned Achille Marozzo lists up to twenty-two types without specific names, and taking the weapon from another’s hand, but this art is especially divided into attacks, and into provocations, or defenses [...] of which things Guidantonio da Luca Bolognese has been among the most excellent masters and tutors in the modern era.

—Garzoni, pg. 696-699 (La Piazza Universale)

In a 1624 posthumous publication of Tommaso Garzoni’s work titled, Emporii emporiorum, sive theatri vitae humanae opera omnia, we again see Marozzo’s mastery referenced:

But for wounding, all kinds of blows and strokes must be taken into account, both the time and the manner of inflicting them: all of which are described in the books that have recently been published in public print by good and expert swordsmen, such as the aforementioned Achille Marozzo, Iacobo Modonensi, Guido Antonio Lucano of Bologna, and Nicolotto Gigante of Venice.

—Garzoni, pg. 247 (Emporii emporiorum)

In conclusion, there is little doubt that Marozzo was influential, though at times controversial, and with the extant data available, it’s hard to say for sure if his skill was as legendary as his teaching ability. Figures like Grazoni and Doni were—as their contemporaries would say—men of letters, not arms, so we have to take their praise with a degree of skepticism. While this lack of recognition could be a manifestation of the age, in the later 16th century and early 17th century we’re afforded a number of exemplars who are considered both great masters and great swordsmen according to their peers.

Tappa of Milan:

We’ll now turn our attention to the most excellent and celebrated master, Tappa of Milan. Few characters in history are as widely celebrated and lauded for their skill and mastery of the art of swordsmanship as the illustrious Francesco ‘Tappa’ Giussano. In Paolo Morigi’s La nobiltà di Milano, published in 1595, he remembers Francesco and other paragons of Milanese fencing and great captains like this:4

Now I would like to tell of many Milanese who were valiant in handling the sword and dagger, and who won much praise for their various exploits, coming to blows with the most famous men of that profession in Europe. Besides the invincible Piantanidi, Bevolchi, and Cavalli, whom we have mentioned, there was also the well-known Gio. Pietro Sola, who won many trophies of his valor among the best men of Italy and France. Likewise there were Gio. Giacomo Cavallo, Francesco Tappa and Gio. Pietro his son; both of whom were brave and of great esteem […] and Aurelio Facino, Gio. Ambrogio Lombardo are considered valiant with the sword, and among the first in this city, in which in this profession there are many brave men, who would stand against any strong and brave man, because they are enemies of fear, acting as if they were invincible.

—Morigi, pg. 443-444

In relation to our subject of exemplary qualities, what this establishes is that merit and individual enterprise were tantamount to the application of the “great fencer” epitaph. Morgi’s qualification of inclusion is “valiant in handling the sword and dagger, and who won much praise for their various exploits, coming to blows with the most famous men of that profession in Europe.” In a modern context, we could draw a similar correlation to a sport or tournament environment in HEMA. Of note, this distinction was not only afforded to Tappa, it was also bestowed upon his son Pietro Giussano, who was remembered as brave and of great esteem.

Tappa’s virtue and legend were further immortalized—if somewhat obscured and embellished—in Rabish dra Academiglia dor compà Zauar by Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo, a member of the Accademia dei Facchini della Val di Blenio in the Val di Blenio (modern-day Ticino, Switzerland). The poem is written in a dialect called Furbesca, a Lombardic dialect native to northern Italy, and is relatively legendary in tone. Given the regionally specific nature of the dialect, I asked Moreno dei Ricci if he could help me by translating this portion, and he kindly delivered, which is amazing. This will almost undoubtedly be the most precise translation of this text you'll ever see.

To Mr. Francesco Giussano, called “Tappa” the fencer, known as Comrade Traver, Captain of the Valley.

Oh, what skill when Comrade Traver fences! | With his four ‘guards’ dedicated to the | Elements, to fire, to stone, to water, and the | Other to the wind, such that not even the | Devil (Digliauer: dialect term) could touch him.

Moving then like a wild man from India to the | Sea {or the Wall}, he dealt thrusts and blows | To the most valiant men; with a stout heart, | he made himself Captain of the people of the Blenio Valley, |in the midst of a flock of goats.

On his back, he wore a breastplate (pancirogn), and on his shoulder, | he carried a certain sword that weighed a full thirty pounds.

Showing his virtues to the utmost with this blade | he took away the clothes of everyone on the road | for they were the enemies of our valley {or our worth}.

—Lomazzo (dei Ricci Translation)

What Lomazzo failed to mention is that Francesco Tappa was seven feet tall and could shoot fireballs out of his arse! Jokes aside, this poem gives us some great insight into the core virtues of Tappa’s character, even if it’s a bit sardonic and sarcastic. Skill is paramount, “wielding the four guards dedicated to the four elements, so that not even the Devil could touch him.”

Now, it seems that Lomazzo, a contemporary of Tappa, was distinguishing moral and martial virtue here. He illustrated some deficiencies in Tappa's character, pointing out that as a captain he wore a breast plate on his back, alluding to a proclivity for retreating, exaggerating his skill by saying he carried a thirty-six pound sword, and claiming that he wielded said sword to take the clothes from every traveler, making him out to be a sort of brigand or bandit. Still, his legend was such that the illiterati felt inclined to lampoon his virtú, and that speaks to the transcendence of his fame.

This wasn’t Lamazzo’s only account of Tappa’s legacy, however; in his 1584 Trattato dell’arte della pittura, scultura ed architettura, he discussed the great fencer Gentile dei Borri, whose treatise Leonardo da Vinci reportedly illustrated, and flags Tappa and the aforementioned Giovanni Giacomo Cavallo as his fencing equals.

But returning to the professors of arms, Gentile dei Borri was excellent among those mentioned. Leonardo Vinci drew all the men on horseback, how they could defend themselves from one another by one on foot, and also how those on foot could defend and attack one another by virtue of their different weapons. It was truly a great shame that this work was not brought to light as an ornament of this most stupendous art. His brother Ottaviano, Giacopo Cavallo, and Francesco Tappa, all Milanese, are on a par with him.

—Lamazzo, pg. 274

Then, he again lauds Tappa’s fame in his 1587 Rime, referencing the sword master three times:

1.) And the great Tapa was also a fencing expert, with his son who was called Pietro.

—pg. 233

2.) From this part of the world, and especially from Milan, came the foremost practitioners of the sword, the lance, and of the Rotella [rotelle]—men of true nobility. Their deeds, whose fame is written among the stars, are remembered among the most illustrious, alongside Paulo Porta, the renowned Marian, and others—Suola, Tapa, Moro, and the brave Animoso.

—Pg. 444

3.) And after them the great Giulio Beolco, a captain famous for fencing. And with him that among all the fencing men, Francesco Tapa, known throughout the world.

—pg. 532

Pierre de Bourdeille Brantôme (c. 1540 – 15 July 1614†) in his, Discours sur les duels, written sometime in the late 16th century, affords us a more personal account of Tappa’s ability, in which he recounts a month-long stay in Milan, while returning from leading a relief force to Malta in 1565, wherein he trained with the legendary figure, stating:5

I have often seen this in Paris, but above all I have seen it in Milan, where the last time I was there, returning from the relief of Malta, I stayed for a month—both to see the city (which is one of the most pleasant in Italy) and to learn fencing from the great Tappe, then a very fine swordsman. But I swear that, for as long as I was there, not a day passed when I did not see some twenty bands of men who had quarrels, strolling about the city in this manner; and when they encountered one another, they fought and killed each other. So that one saw an infinity of them lying stretched out on the pavement, even though they were armed jackets, sleeves of mail, gauntlets, and close helms (segrete).

And one saw even more people coming out of shops with polearms to separate them, who very often lost their rapiers in the process—and even officers of Justice themselves. I do not even mention the great expense required to maintain these bravos and give them good meals; indeed, it has been seen that they hired themselves out as shop servants or valets, and would present themselves to those they sensed had a quarrel, living from this trade as if it were a rented profession—true children of the Mathe.

How many such men and such disorders have I seen, both in Paris and in Milan, and in certain towns of France, Spain, and Italy?

—Brantôme (Pène, pg. 143-144)

The majority of this account focuses on the factional feuding in Milan at the time, which is fascinating but goes beyond the bounds and objective of this article.6 What's pertinent is Brantôme’s qualification of Tappa's status, attributing the epithet of great and a “very fine swordsman.” Later in his account, he mentions Tappa again, and this time we get some more objective insight into his skill:

Indeed, I have seen it maintained in our Court by some of the bravest and most valiant gentlemen there, men who in their time had acquired great glory in arms, that if some favorite newly arrived from Italy, freshly sharpened at the sword by the Paternoster, or Hieronimo, or Francisco, or Tappe, or le Flaman, or by the Sieur d’Aymard, a gentleman of Bordeaux; a gallant man indeed, when he lived, and who, coming to Court hungry for glory and honor, sought to win it, if such a man were challenged and called out with the sword alone, or with sword and dagger, they would not fight him in that way. Instead, they would rather combat him with other weapons they found more advantageous for themselves, and give him something to think about; or they would mount a good horse with a good pistol, and a sword or lance, or otherwise, in order to put his fencing to the test.

—Brantôme (Pène, pg. 171-172)

Brantôme observed that members of the French court who wanted to test their skill fencing with the Italian masters of repute, the exemplars of the late 16th century: Paternostaro, Girolamo Cavalcabo, Francesco Tappa, Flaman (who probably taught Brantôme fencing alongside Jacques Ferron), or d’Aymard and their students, would avoid a challenge with the sword or sword and dagger, and instead seek to find some unequal advantage.

Ironically, it was at the hands of a Frenchman, in some dispute or conflict (likely indicating a duel) in 1573, that the great Tappa would meet his untimely demise. This was preserved in the British Calendar of State Papers, Foreign Series, of the Reign of Elizabeth, and demonstrates the scope of his fencing fame.

In Padua one Tappa, a famous master of fence, has been slain by a Frenchman.

Add. Endd., with seal. Ital. Pp, 4.

—Crosby, pg. 370

So what can we glean from this glut of data points? Tappa had an air about him, a stigma that not even the Devil could beat him, an aura that made even his legacy formidable. He was an excellent and celebrated master, valiant in the conduct of arms, who tested himself against the best fencers in Europe, and etched his fame in the stars. He moved with great agility, had a stout heart (bold), he was well composed in the four principal guards (proportion, parries confidently), and wielded his sword with great virtue. In many ways, these glamorous descriptions etch a figure who embodies near perfection in Lenzini's standard. Moreover, Tappa was not just a great fencer, he was a great master, evident in the greatness of his son, and his students—“sharpened by his sword”—who commanded respect everywhere they went.

Annibale Obizzo Marescalchi:

Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi was an ardent scholar of fencing. Thanks to the preservation of his extensive library by Veggetti, we not only get a glimpse into how he conceived of fencing and warfare, but how he came to those conclusions—a rare look into the depths of a man who ensconced himself in the perfection of his livelihood and social role.

Of the contemporary sources, Zani’s, Memorie imprese, e ritratti de' signori Accademici Gelati di Bologna (1672), gives the best accounts. When describing Obizzo Annibale Maresclachi’s student, Ugo Gioseffe Pepoli, he says:

Through exercises of horsemanship he formed a close friendship with Count Filippo, son of Count Odoardo, Senator Pepoli—himself also a member of our Academy—and, vying with him, he learned riding from Ottaviano Fantuzzi, and fencing from Camillo Salaroli, first, then from Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi, a knight of inimitable agility and prowess in such skill, and the use of arms on foot and on horseback from Count Ascanio Bentivoglio.

The progress he made was made clear among the Academicians—Knights of the Infiammati—in the tournament of ‘Love Avenged,’ which was fought by them in the year 1653; and by serving as padrino in various jousts and combats at the barrier, where several times he was elected capolizza.

Accordingly, the mounted arms display staged by Bolognese cavaliers in the public square during Carnival of 1671 was entirely his invention from start to finish, and he himself showed the manner in which it ought to be done, performing all the maneuvers. This he could readily accomplish, since he already knew, by his own hand, how to train horses and render them fit for every exercise of war, and he had not only learned but also taught others the handling of the pike, the halberd, and the sword—of which he knew how to make honorable and knightly use—even, at times, while suffering from gout.

—Zani, pg. 397-399

From this, we learn that Obizzo was “a knight of inimitable agility and prowess in such skill” (ie. the art of fencing). Furthermore, we learn that his student, Ugo Gioseffe Pepoli, became an instructor of arms himself, alluding to an impression of skill, reason, and the ability to communicate these principles to others. Later in Zani’s catalogue of exemplary academicians, he discusses Vincenzo Maria Marescalchi, Obizzo’s brother. In this memorial, he states:

Our Ritenuto, then, combines his genius for literature with a rare blend of the use of arms, which he wields with such skill that he can rightly be called a master, and no less so than his brother, Signor Obizzo Annibale, who in similar endeavors is renowned to the point that is known to everyone; and thus, together with him, he has often instructed noble youth, both in public chivalric actions and in private exercises.

—Zani, pg. 392-393

This gives us a glimpse into the totality of Obizzo’s mastery and introduces us to the fact that his brother was equally skilled in handling the sword and in teaching the art of arms. More specifically, that “they wielded the sword with great skill.”

A few decades later, Obizzo was mentioned in Berlingiero Gessi’s 1694 Opere del Senatore Berlingiero Gessi che sono La spada d’onore, which was dedicated to his relative Carlo Marescalchi.

How much the Knight, measured and prudent before the act, shows himself in the act of fighting, ready and ardent, combining courage with judgment, nor is he so intent on wounding the enemy that anger and the desire for revenge do not strike him more strongly in the soul. The composition of emotions in these trials is very desirable, since anger determines the outcome, fear precipitates it, fear weakens it, experience strengthens it, prudence manages it, and courage makes him victorious. I will not go into the artistic handling of the sword, since Colonel Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi, Knight of Bologna, has composed a book about it, which is soon to be published, a very comprehensive study of the use of the sword, its capture, and other weapons.

—Gessi, pg. 258-2597

Despite the fact that Gessi is yeilding to a more technical perspective destined in a forthcoming book by Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi, we would be remiss not to take a moment to examine his words.

A knight must be measured and prudent, ready and ardent, combining courage with judgement. The delicate balance of the thymos (Aristotle), animo (Machiavelli) or irascible passion (Aquinas)—the wellspring of Audacia, or in Gessi’s case, ‘anger’ are exacerbated by fear and an over-eagerness to wound your opponent. They must be tempered by the virtues, specifically courage (fortitudo) and prudence, coalesced into more complex expressions to achieve victory.

Of Obizzo’s qualities, Dolfi—a near contemporary—remembers that he was “scientifically skilled in handling the sword and other weapons of war.”8 While Orlandi would later record his “valor and frankness” as an accomplished swordsman.9

We can conclude that Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi possessed inimitable agility, prowess, virtue, valor, frankness, and skill. His reputation as a swordsman and a master of arms, ensconced in a scientific application of the art, preceded him. He was an accomplished master who fostered other masters in arms, like Ugo Gioseffe Pepoli and Carlo Cesare Malvasia. Obizzo Annibale’s personal fencing motto and arms, preserved in his unpublished treatise on mezza spada actions, declares: FORTITUDO ET DECOR, which in this context likely renders as Courage and Distinction, according to Dr. David Stifler.

However, when it comes to our fencing exemplars, Obizzo’s story is entirely unique. We know that Marozzo learned the art of fencing from Guido Antonio di Luca, but beyond speculation of the potential influences of extant authors ranging from Fiore to the likes of Monte and Vadi—we don't know what propelled Marozzo’s Opera Nova into its final form, and—as far as I’m aware—we don’t know who trained Francesco ‘Tappa’ Giussano or where his transcendent style originated, beyond his home city of Milan. This is not the case with Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi. The fondo in the Marescalchi library, collected by Cardinal Mezzofanti and donated to the Università di Bologna by his pupil Veggetti on June 1st of 1892, among others contained the following: One Hundred Conclusions on the Skill of Arms by Luis Pacheco de Narváez, Definitions of the terms specific to this science of fencing translated from Spanish into Italian by Annibale Marescalchi, a Compendium of Fencing Treatise in French Use, a Compendium of the single sword in the Neapolitan style, La Touche, Notes made by Ferdinando Marescalchi on single-sword combat, Tratatto di Scherma by Girolamo di Grassi, Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi’s manuscript on the art of fencing and a number of French and Spanish books on military theory and horsemanship.

According to Tomasetti, Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi, “received a distinguished education at the Seminario Romano and undertook his fencing training at the Academy of the Marcelli family, which he himself described as one of the most influential fencing traditions of his age.” Further explaining that, “His work reflects multiple influences: the Roman-Marcellian tradition, of which he was a clear exponent and a direct pupil of the family; the Neapolitan school, revitalised in those very years by Giovanbattista Marcelli and his successors; the Spanish system, encountered through his military service in Central and Southern Italy; the French style, which was only beginning to exert its cultural influence over the European art of arms; and finally, the Bolognese tradition, deeply rooted in his own family background.”

Obizzo’s pedigree is evidenced by his extensive library, and in many respects reflects the zeitgeist of the Marcelli lineage, where he developed his foundation. Unashamedly Italian, deeply influenced by Destreza, and hyper aware of the prevailing fencing traditions, measuring their merit through an ever-evolving utilitarian lens.

We can see a more nuanced reflection of this in Francesco Antonio Marcelli’s Regole della scherma (1686), wherein he discusses the necessary qualities of a master, and cites examples from Luis Pacheco de Narváez, Giovanni dall’Agocchie, and the emerging French tradition.

How difficult it is to be a fencing master! Not, however, of those that were exiled from the kingdom in the time of Emperor Honorious because, subverting the rules, they were teaching the men to be killed like brutes; without a guide, neither studying the rules, nor the art. It is necessary that, being a maestro, he would retain the qualities with the name. Although the desirable custom of the ancients has been removed from use, that anytime that anyone would aspire to teach, he would be examined in a public committee of excellent maestri, and becoming approved after the examination, they declared him worthy of that rank, with public patents, that he had paid the price through his virtue, as Achille Marozzo reports in book 2, p. 27, and Giovanni dall'Agocchie, fol. 8 book 1, and Narváez affirms in book 1 of La Verdadera Destreza, that in his time it was used (and in the present) in Madrid, and we know for certain it is a customary tradition in our times in France. Nevertheless, one must be a Maestro in the present, without having envy for the past.

So as to understand the difficulties that are encountered in order to reach such an excellent rank, it is not out of the proposition to examine the qualities that are required in the subject that has set out toward this goal; and from the understanding of these, will come the clarity of those.

Giovanni dall'Agocchie, book 1, fol. 6, in describing a good professor, assesses that he must be learned in reason, animosity, strength, skill, knowledge, judgment, and practice. The reason being required in using the sword, the animosity, that is useful to not become demoralized in fights, strength will serve to render him superior in the gain; skill, to the contrary, for defending himself from these, the knowledge is understood as the theory, i.e., to perform everything soundly, and with its reason, so that he knows the thing by its cause. Judgment then must serve for the understanding of the tempi, of measures, of lines, and angles. He wants the practice to signify that continued exercise, by means of which, after having studied the lessons, they are practiced in bouts and are placed into operation as he was taught by the maestro. The above-cited Bolognese, however, expresses very well the qualities of a good fencer, who presently must operate for himself; but the maestro, who must teach others, must possess other traits, which are useful to render him worthy of possessing this title.

—Francesco Antonio Marcelli; Holzman, pg. 7-8

Marcelli goes on to provide two additions to this model. First, “a professor cannot ever make himself clear in his explanations if he does not try to unite every technique to its foundation; i.e., the reason for which it is performed, and on what it is based.” (pg. 8) The second is that “practice is in the same degree necessary to a good fencing master.” (pg. 9)

Now, not all of Marcelli’s observations of Giovanni dall’Agocchie's schermo are as complementary, but Giovanni does serve as a reliable counter-weight to the presentation of the Marcellian presuppositions on fencing, which is a flattering accord for the Bolognese master. The potential for Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi’s own exposure to the work of Giovanni dall'Agocchie seems rather tangible, given his time spent training with the Marcelli, his origins in Bologna, his pupils Filippo and Ugo Gioseffe Pepoli, and his brother’s nuptials to Elisabeta Pepoli.

What's truly remarkable about Obizzo’s story is how his fencing background feels so complementary to this HEMA journey we’ve all undertaken.

Silvio Piccolomini:

Our final figure in our survey is perhaps the most widely lauded for his skill and mastery, not just by the layman, student, and scholar, but by his fellow fencing masters. Of his known students, Federico Ghisiliero says, “I’m certain to fall short of many things, even if I can consider myself very fortunate, and rejoice within myself for being the creation of the Most Illustrious Lord Silvio Piccolomini, to whose most courteous humanity towards me in this regard I owe the greatest thanks […],” (Smallridge)

Jacopo Monesi informs us that, “In conformance therefore with what the Most Illustrious Sir Silvio Piccolomini of Aragon ^[2] (excellent in this exercise, and more so in military disciplines) taught me, after my first master Cosimo Paradisi, in the chapters that follow I will narrate as openly as I can what is recounted.” (Wiktenauer)

While, from the observations of contemporary and near-contemporary masters we see Ridolfo Capo Ferro state, “the greatness and valor are commended of those who worthily carry the sword at their side; among whom today shines gloriously the Most Illustrious Signor Silvio Piccolomini, Grand Prior of the Religion of the Knights of Saint Stephen in Pisa, and General of the Artillery and Master of Chamber of S.A.S. because not only is he endowed with full and marvelous advantage of that of the sword, but also of every other chivalric art, as his heroic actions by the same, to the wonder of all, clearly make manifest.” (Wiktenauer)

To which we can add, Christiani, who says, “(a)t that moment, keep a close eye on that act, which pushes his arm backward along the line, and his sword will remain victorious, but the beauty of the teaching of that Most Illustrious and Most Excellent—never sufficiently praised—Mr. Silvio Picolhuomini, who said that in no way should he allow himself, not only to gain, but even to touch the sword […].” (Terminello trans., pg. 18-19)

With that established, we can now turn to the contemporary account of Michel de Montaigne, who recorded an evening with the maestro:

On Monday I dined with Signor Silvio Piccolomini, a man of well–known worth and especially skilled in the art of fence. Many subjects came up for discussion, as there was a large gathering of other gentlemen.

He has a poor opinion of the art of fencing as practised by the Italian masters, such as Veniziana di Bologna, Patinostraro, and others. Indeed, the only one he favoured was a certain pupil of his own, who now lives at Brescia, where he teaches the art to the gentle–folk of the city. He declared that the ordinary teachers of fencing follow neither art nor rule, and he condemned especially the far–reaching lunge which leaves your sword at the mercy of your adversary, and the practice of making one assault after another and then coming to a pause. This, he declared, was entirely against all experience of sword–play. He was on the eve of printing a treatise on this subject.

—Montaigne; Smallridge, pg. 165-166

Thus, to the masters of the age, Silvio Piccolomini was: endowed with the full and marvelous advantage of the sword, he was heroic, a wonder, never sufficiently praised and excellent. To the traveler Montaigne, he was especially skilled and of well-known worth, even to a Frenchman traveling abroad. Though Piccolomini is graced with the gawdy admonishments of Tappa or Marescalchi, he was most likely your favorite fencing master’s favorite master—if you will. That is unique.

The Underlying Virtues of Mastery:

In a world separated from tangible exemplars, save a few living lineages, we can only imagine what excellence looked like. Are we conducting this experiment some call HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts) and others WMA (Western Martial Arts) in a manner conducive to excellence? Perhaps we’ll never know. What we can do is look to history to guide us onto a more amicable path.

For example, which of the following examples reads to you as most excellent, and which one reads like your average HEMA tournament bout?

Gianfrancesco Asinelli, and Giovanni Nicelli, a very courageous young man, both gentlemen from Piacenza, the most honorable fight was fought, which among knights of honor had ever been fought for many years before. These men, who were formerly very close friends, having become mortal enemies, challenged each other, obtained a free field in Bozzolo in the Mantuan territory. And there in their shirts with only their swords in hand, having fought courageously, and with very great heart for the space of an hour and a half: and the Nicelli having only two light wounds on his face, and the Asinelli also touched lightly with two wounds in one hand, they were parted by Signor Luigi Gonzaga, known as Rodomonte, Lord of the Field; and made to reconcile together, not without very great pleasure and extreme joy of the bystanders. Wherefore, both having borne the boast of two brave and courageous knights, from then on they always maintained a firm, inviolable, and perfect friendship between them.

—Locati, Umberto, pg. 295-296

—OR—

This morning, about the 13th hour, Binno and Babo, the valiant men of the staff of our magnificent master Zoanne [Giovanni] Bentivoglio, through their hatred, with swords in hand, struck each other in the chest with the first blow. May they rest in peace. I recommend myself to Your Illustrious Signoria as usual, so that it may be well with you.

Bologna, 12th September 1494.

E. I ll . Your perpetual servant Ioannes Sabadínus de Aríentis

Unless we assume that the duel between Gianfrancesco Asinelli and Giovanni Nicelli looked something like this…

But—it doesn’t seem like it did. They fought courageously with great heart, to the pleasure and enjoyment of those in attendance. Four wounds given in a 90-minute timespan is so far beyond the skill and technical ability of modern fencers, I don’t know where to begin. To the contrary, one could argue that this is only one data point. Right?

The duel was extremely tough and spectacular, thanks to the skill of the contenders. Pepoli was more seriously wounded by a blow between the nose and upper lip, and Rangoni was lightly struck in the throat. Finally, the sword broke in Pepoli's hand.

According to the chroniclers, Count Guido immediately withdrew and said to him:

Take, count, another sword.

To which Count Ugo, fearless and bold, replied:

Continue the battle, Count Guido, this is enough for me.

After an hour of intense fencing, the judges, considering the rather unrealistic nature of the contest, decided that the test of honor had been fully served and set about reconciling the contenders. Neither, however, intended to leave the fence first, so they were advised to stand close together, simultaneously exiting the arena with a small, simultaneous leap.

— Cavina, pg. 152

Marco Cavina provides a succinct summation of Modesti’s account of the duel between Guido Rangoni and Ugo Pepoli—two men who Viggiani lauds as paragons of fencing. This was not a tame affair; by Modesti’s account, this was a flurry of blows, counters, and continuous action. To the former, Viggiani attributes the epitaph a “rare man, excellent in welding arms, although not tall of body, towering in valor,” and to the former he ascribes, “a man of such valor, art and knowledge, with great heart and perfect judgement, who has brought excellent fame to his country in distant lands and performed a thousand beautiful enterprises.”

Thus, we come to the crux of our dilemma. When we regard the querella of fencers possessing tremendous skill and virtue, we’re faced with an outcome alien to our modern reality. Consider this friendly bout between Maestro Francesco Loda and Maestro Ton Puey at Minsk in 2019, easily two of the greatest fencers of the modern era:

One could argue that modern sport sees more touches because protective gear reduces risk aversion—a fair point. However, even at our current level of excellence, we still fall short of that benchmark by orders of magnitude. There could be a false equivalence here, and by all accounts Modesti was exaggerating Guido Rangoni’s prowess in the steccato for the sake of the sweet clink of noble gold. Regardless, what I am proposing is a more reasonable and practical question, rather than an impossible comparison. How do we as moderns set a new standard? How do we reach greater heights in our fencing? And how do we define greatness?

We return to our principal objective—we return to Aristotle.

Our Common Martial Virtues are:

• Fortitude: Courage to stand your ground and endure.

• Audacity: The excess of courage, Aristotle’s thymos, Aquinas’ irascible passion, Machiavelli’s animo; boldness.

• Celerity: Skill, speed developed through training, and a precision of movement—sprezzatura.

• Prudence: Wisdom, experience, cunning, and awareness.

The collective qualities of our virtuous exemplars: Marozzo, Giussano, Marescalchi and Piccolomini (plus Rangoni and Pepoli) are:

• Valor (fortitude and audacity)

• Bravery (fortitude and audacity)

• Fearlessness (audacity)

• Principled in their guards (prudence, fortitude and celerity)

• Stout of heart (fortitude)

• Dynamic in their movement (celerity and fortitude)

• Expert knowledge of the Art (prudence and celerity)

• Air of invincibility (celerity, fortitude and audacity)

• Inimitable Agility (celerity and audacity)

• Prowess (all of the martial virtues)

• Skill (celerity)

• Frankness (audacity and prudence)

• Excellence (prudence, celerity and fortitude)

• Endowed with Advantage (fortitude, celerity, prudence)

• Perfect Judgement (celerity and prudence)

• And non-virtuous reputational expressions of perfection: Nobility, Reputation, Heroism, and Esteem

Compare these qualities and their virtues that instantiate them to the qualities of a perfect fencer outlined by Lenzoni:

• Bravery (fortitude and audacity)

• Air (celerity, audacity and fortitude)

• Aptitude (prudence, fortitude and audacity)

• Readiness (fortitude and prudence)

• Proportion (fortitude, prudence and celerity)

• Agility (celerity and prudence)

• Eye (celerity, prudence and audacity)

• Falsehood (celerity and audacity)

In this passage, the anonymous author(s) of MSS Ravenna M-345 and 346, outlines the four core martial virtues as principles. This is undoubtedly a principle in the a philosophical or Aristotelian sense, so it warrants a definition. A principle [ἀρχαί, archai], according to Aristotle, is: That from which something first is, comes to be, or is known. (Aristotle Metaphysics 1013a17–18) Thus, the martial virtues are roots from which the fruits of the art emerge.

• Courage: Audacia (strikes boldly)

• Cunning: Prudence (wastes no time)

• Skill: Celerity (moves quickly)

• Strength: Fortitude (parries confidently)

Notice that—even here—the fruits are derived through an amalgamation of the core virtues. Courage is combined with cunning, which is crowned with a fortress (strength), and the fortress is embellished with intelligent skill. In our Lenzoni synthesis, these combinations yield bravery (audacia and fortitude), readiness (fortitude and prudence), falsehood (celerity and audacia), air (celerity, audacia, fortitude), and yield perfection (celerity, audacity, fortitude, and prudence).

So, we have an objective and clear waypoints to mark our progress toward said objective—how do we get there?

Modeling the Virtues in Fencing:

Often in historical fencing circles, the discussion of improvement centers around celerity. How can I get faster? How do I do this technique? How do I perform this action—that action—or this play? Rarely do I see someone say, how do I become more audacious in my fencing (though, arguably, an excess of audacia already exists), how do I become wiser, more aware, or more courageous. Why was that technique included here? How is it employed? This is not to say that the physical expression of the art is any less important than its emotional, intellectual, or performative counterparts; it’s just an observation of how our general community approaches progress.

To aid in a broader, multidimensional approach, allow me to frame a hypothetical using our virtuous exemplars above. We’ll start at the foundation, the root of all fencing, the very essence of scherma. Fortitude.

Fortitudo is courage, strength, and endurance. In a fencing sense, your strength is derived from your structure. Your ability to use biomechanical advantage, which is modern colloquial for fencing with the entirety of your body. Whether you are welding a rapier or a two-handed sword, the chaining of larger muscle groups to move the weapon, parry, and gain advantage, is essential. Through this development, a fencer will gain confidence in their parries, and the ability to stand their ground amidst a flurry of blows, ie. the courage to endure {Aquinas’ sustinere}. Similarly, they will open the door for the wellspring of attacks and tempos that result from a commanding presence with the sword.

This biomechanical chain occurs when the hips and shoulders work in unison, the arm is correctly structured, and there is a shared activation of large and small muscle groups. The result and objective should include well-formed guards (a guard being any position of rest or the end point of movement), not just in preparation but in action. Attacks should come to a place of mechanical integrity—even if they’re terminally weak—and they should be redoubled with an action that returns them to a place of functional strength, ala Marozzo. This is often communicated as cutting from guard to guard and produces a sense of composure that is born from a functional integrity of form.

Oh, what skill when Comrade Traver fences! | With his four ‘guards’ dedicated to the | Elements, to fire, to stone, to water, and the | Other to the wind, such that not even the | Devil (Digliauer: dialect term) could touch him.

The next step in development is celerity. Skill is developed by gradually increasing the speed at which the form is executed. This cycle is reciprocal. Tangentially, it’s at this stage in development that new skills and techniques can be added, but if they lack a solid foundation of form they will falter. The key is repetition, with the objective of removing all sense of affectation, which means your application of form, at speed, becomes so fluid or fluent that it looks natural and in no way artificial or practiced.

Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi, a knight of inimitable agility and prowess in such skill {fencing}.

Pro tip: Most of the top fencers in the world whom I have talked to perpetually drill the basics for this very reason. Just listen to either of our conversations with Martin Fabian.

Now we can begin to develop prudence. This can only be achieved through experience, which means applying your form, at speed, against a variety of skill sets—but there is a caveat. As Marcelli states, “a professor cannot ever make himself clear in his explanations if he does not try to unite every technique to its foundation; i.e., the reason for which it is performed, and on what it is based.” This is not the how or the when, it’s the why and the what. The core principles being: the five words10 of the Liechtenauer tradition, measure, tempo, or whatever your preferred system entails. You can develop the ability to perceive these principles through experience, but without the ability to articulate them in a succinct manner that helps others learn to navigate them, you’ll never truly learn how to teach. That suits some, but it comes with the potential pitfall of plateauing.

This was exemplified by Obizzo Annibale Marescalchi, who—despite his inimitable agility and prowess, which reads as pure athleticism—was also an ardent student of fencing, maintaining a library rich with new and innovative ideas from across Europe. I have never seen the act of engaging with and developing a desire to understand the sources fail anyone. What I have seen is fencers who have been stuck in a rut, frustrated with their fencing for years, pick up a source(s), and explode with confidence and new ideas.

That said, the root of prudence is experience. Reading—while valuable—can only get you so far; training within your group can only take you so far. Experience and diversity of ideas is absolutely essential. As Manciolino says, “The delight of playing with varied and diverse {fencers} makes a {person} cunning, perceptive, and nimble of hand, because from the variety of such practiced wits stems the shrewd and learned mother-experience of things.”

For some, Audacia is completely natural. For others, it has to be developed, so I’ll take time to address both:

To those who inherently possess the will to compete and win, who strive for success in every endeavor and hate to lose, or to those who take every opportunity to hit their opponent regardless of the outcome I quote Gessi, “How much the Knight, measured and prudent before the act, shows himself in the act of fighting, ready and ardent, combining courage with judgment, nor is he so intent on wounding the enemy that anger and the desire for revenge do not strike him more strongly in the soul. The composition of emotions in these trials is very desirable, since anger determines the outcome, fear precipitates it, fear weakens it, experience strengthens it, prudence manages it, and courage makes him victorious.”

The reason why Audacity is last in our concentric quest of virtue is because it must be lashed to the present virtues to be effective, whether it is behavioral or technical. From a technical standpoint, nobody summarizes this better than the anonymous author.

To those who lack the irascible passion, the animo, or the thymos, I’ll quote John Wayne, “Courage is being scared shitless …and saddling up anyway." Whether it's an excess of prudence stealing tempi from your fencing, a fear of failure, or a sense of risk avoidance born from the ills and excesses of competition, some level of audacity is essential to gaining experience and seeing growth. This is not to say that you should be imprudent and put yourself in a dangerous situation, but some level of risk tolerance will take you far. Anxiety, doubt, fear, and imposter syndrome are in the minds of even the most audacious, irascible, animated, and thymatic (I made that up) competitors, and if they disagree they’re either lying or they’re a psychopath. Regardless, you’re not alone, others have overcome similar deficiencies to do great things. You can too.

Blending the Virtues:

By Lenzoni’s standard, when the four principle virtues are deeply ensconced, we’ve only obtained goodness, and have yet to breach the complexity of greatness or perfection. That comes when four core elements of martial aptitude harmonize in a sweet symphony of martial prowess.

It's easy to read past common nuances of great fencing to get to the how that we often delight in. That is, we skip over those lengthy introductions full of general teachings before the pictures and plays that are easier to digest and understand. But, perhaps that is because what we’re missing is the language of the principles that form the bedrock of that martial language.

Here's an example, my exemplar Manciolino wants you to defend going forward, and he spices that up with the salient advice that you should, “let every defense be followed with an offense, and every offense with a defense” [paraphrasing]. There are some, like Gaiani and Marcelli who are critical of this characteristically Bolognese piece of advice, but that is their prerogative. Let's break this down by virtue—by principle—and see what we find.

It starts with sound defense {parries confidently} (fortitudo/sustinere) with a dash of audacia {attacks boldly}, in that you defend going forward rather than stepping around, retreating, or holding your ground, and by means of celerity (skill/speed) {moves quickly} you’re afforded the opportunity to exploit the tempo of your opponents attack {wastes no time}.

In order to develop this skill I need to:

1. Parry confidently: trust my guard position, have sound biomechanical structure.

2. Attack boldly: have the boldness to come forward with my defense.

3. Move quickly: have the proprioception to execute my form correctly (ie. guard) at speed, without affectation.

4. Waste no time: Giovanni dall’Agocchie gives 5 Tempos of attack and when you've made a defense is one of them, so you're not wasting a tempo. If anything you're making sure it's exploited.

With that established, if I want to integrate this into my fencing repertoire I can apply it, and check in with my principle virtues when I face adversity. Perhaps my failure to execute was devoid of one or all of virtues, ie. how was my structure and form, did I hesitate for some reason, did I time it correctly or act in tempo, was I able to execute fast enough?

This exercise can be applied to any general recommendation, salient fencing advice or tactical paradigm. It shows you how to see beyond the pale of implied action so you can build a real martial competency and unlock the virtuous paradigm at the root of any text.

That competency is born through the rigors of practice. Take this anecdote from a collection of essays by the Gelati Academy, written sometime in the mid-17th century {published in 1671}, by Giovanni Battista Capponi (1620-1675).

Therefore among these was also counted fencing against a stake or a column, which Oribasius and Vegetius mention and carefully describe; and Plato, Aristotle, and Juvenal also discuss:

“He who does not see the wounds of the stake| which he has struck with constant blows and wounded…”

and Martial:

“…or you will have strengthened your right hand.”

This exercise served wonderfully to make the hand agile and steady in delivering a thrust, which they used in warfare; in proof of which I remember having known a gentleman who had so trained his right hand in giving a thrust that he would unfailingly strike off, with it, whichever button on his opponent’s doublet pleased him most.

And he had made it his habit to mark on the wall a spot no larger than a chickpea and to practice every day hitting it with the tip of his sword. Nor should we be more astonished at what they did in the joust among the Saracens—devised, in my opinion, to perfect the blow of the lance—just as practice at the post perfected that of the sword.

This anonymous fencer, who for all accounts could be our exemplar Obizzo or Vincenzo Marescalchi (given the time and place), endured (sustinere/fortitudo) to develop the skill (celerity) to thrust buttons off of his opponents doublet, and had the prudence (perception/awareness) and audacity to pull it off at his leisure.

Principle, practice, experience, execution.

Ultimately the pursuit of mastery is an infinite ascending staircase with the precipice of perfection as it's final pursuit. While the illusion of perfection is unattainable the maximization of self and the achievement of the highest kind or your personal potential will result from taking each step over and over again.

It's an odd metric that subverts the ego. When you're aware of the virtues and form your practice around perfecting them, your goodness when recognized by others will ultimately fall short of your own self assessment of form. Where others will see Fortitude, Celerity, Prudence and Audacia, or the physical expressions we discussed, you will have the perspective to see further refinement, like form a bit faster, skill to maximize the execution at a given tempo, the audacia to better capitalize on a tempo you may have recognized, and the foundation to endure and wait-out that perfect strike.

Each aspect of fencing can be worked time and again, methodically building, coalescing, and achieving something greater than before. Then the the cycle starts all over again from a new base of competency, like a new flight achieved on the grand staircase of mastery.

Conclusion:

The martial virtues afford us a common language that can enliven the ancient texts regardless of system or author. Furthermore, they allow us to see inside the complexity of virtuous exemplars who can guide us to greater heights in this shared endeavor we call HEMA. At their core they reveal a path to excellence, not goodness—but excellence.

This endeavor at its core, rather intentionally, touched every facet of HEMA, we observed historical exemplars and historical accounts of duels, then weighed them against a more contemporary European mindset, so we could better understand the principles of the martial arts.

In essence, this may fall short in the later iterations of martial texts beyond the 18th century, where language becomes more scientific and less ethereal, where Aristotle and Plato take a backseat to enlightenment thinkers. But even in those instances, the scientific and exacting principles of the modern sport are still beholden to their ancient ancestors, and in many ways—when translated back into virtuous and philosophical principles—help us better understand the forgotten nuances and floor knowledge of their forebearers.

I hope in some way, you find inspiration in this article, whether through the legends of Marozzo, Tappa of Milan, Marescalchi or Piccolomini, or even the dueling prowess of Gianfrancesco Asinelli and Giovanni Nicelli or Guido Rangoni and Ugo Pepoli. I hope their exploits and virtuous fencing, in combination with my explanations of the martial virtues set a course for excellence for you and your students, regardless of where you're at in your martial journey.

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Acknowledgments:

Parts of this article wouldn't have been possible without the gracious support of Moreno dei Ricci. I bounced numerous anecdotes and ideas off of Niccolò Menozzi, Jack Gassmann, Silvia Tomasetti and Francesco Loda, and their expertise helped me better categorize so many of the elements in this article. I would also like to thank Rob Runacres, who inspired me to go looking for Tappa of Milan, all of those years ago. As always, Dr. David Stifler came through with some brilliant linguistic support, and Sean Ellis did a fantastic job editing this article.

Works Cited:

1. de Bourdeilles, Pierre, and Pène, Henri de. Discours sur les duels. France, Libr. des bibliophiles, 1887.

2. “Tireur - Wiktionary, the Free Dictionary.” Wiktionary, https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/tireur. Accessed 10 Feb. 2026.

3. Lomazzo, Giovanni Paolo. Trattato Dell'Arte De La Pittvra, Di Gio. Paolo Lomazzo Milanese Pittore: Diuiso in sette libri : Ne' quali si contiene tutta la Theorica, & la prattica d'essa pittura. N.p., Appresso Paolo Gottardo Pontio, 1584.

4. Lomazzo, Giovanni Paolo. Rime di Gio. Paolo Lomazzi milanese pittore, diuise in sette libri. Nelle quali ad imitatione de i Grotteschi vsati da' pittori, ha cantato le lodi di Dio, & de le cose sacre, di Prencipi, di Signori, & huomini letterati, di pittori, scoltori, & architetti ... Et però intitolate Grotteschi, non solo diletteuoli per la varietà de le inuentioni, ma vtili ancora per la moralità che vi si contiene. Con la vita del Auttore descritta da lui stesso in rime sciolte. N.p., per Paolo Gottardo Pontio, 1587.

5. LOMAZZO, Giovanni Paolo. Rabisch dra Academiglia dor compà Zauargna, nabad dra Vall d'Bregn, ed tucch i sù fidigl soghit, con rà ricenciglia dra Valada. Or cantò di suersarigl, scianscia. Italy, Paolo Gottardo Pontio, 1589.

6. Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeille, and Pène, Henri. Discours sur les duels de Brantôme. France, Librarie des Bibliophiles, 1887.

7. Gessi, Berlingero, and Levi, Giorgio Enrico. Opere del Senatore Berlingiero Gessi che sono La spada d'onore. Pareri cauallereschi. Lo scettro pacifico. Annessovi lo Editto del re christianissimo Luigi 14. contro gli duelli, e rincontri. Dedicate all'illustriss. sig. sig. padr. Colend. il sig. Carlo Marescalchi. Italy, per Giulio Borzaghi, 1694.

8. Alessandri, Torquato d'. Il Cavalier Compito: Nel quale si discorre d'ogni scienza, di ragion di Stato, di Medicina, di Metheora, di dubbi Caualiereschi, e del modo nouo d'imparar à schermir con spada bianca, e difendersi senz'armi. Italy, Discepolo, 1609.

9. Thomae Garzoni Emporii emporiorum, sive theatri vitae humanae ... opera omnia: universalem doctrinam politicam aliosque discursus historico-politicos complectentia ; in tres libros distributa. N.p., n.p, 1624.

10. Doni, Antonio Francesco. La libraria del Doni Fiorntino: Nella quale sono scritti tutti gl’autori vulgari con cento discorsi sopra quelli ; Tutte le tradutioni. Italy, De Ferrari, 1550.

11. Runacres, Rob. “The Bolognese Tradition: Ancient Tradition or Modern Myth?”. Acta Periodica Duellatorum, vol. 10, no. 1, May 2023, pp. 1-17, https://doi.org/10.36950/apd-2022-002.

12. Crosby, Allan James. Great Britain. Public Record Office. Calendar of State Papers, Foreign Series, of the Reign of Elizabeth: Preserved In the State Paper Department of Her Majesty's Public Record Office. London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts, & Green, 18631950.

13. Montaigne, Michel de. The Diary of Montaigne’s Journey to Italy in 1580 and 1581. United Kingdom, L. and Virginia Woolf, 1929.

14. Smallridge, Mike. “Ghisliero and Galileo, De Montaigne and De Montluc.” 7 May 2024, msmallridge.wordpress.com/2024/05/07/a-smattering-of-ghisliero-contextualisation.

15. Termiello, Piermarco & Pendragon, Joshua. “The Art of Fencing; The Discourse of Camillo Palladini.” The Royal Armories. October 2019. Print.

16. Swanger, Jherek. Giovanni dall’Agocchie, Dell’Arte di Scrimia, “The Art of Defense: on Fencing, the Joust, and Battle Formation”, lulu press, May 5, 2018. Digital.

17. Stow, John. Annales, or a Generall Chronicle of England. Continued and augmented to 1631 by Edmund Howes, London, 1631. Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, https://digitale-sammlungen.de/en/view/bsb10213694.

18. Hergsell, Gustav. Die Fechtkunst im XV. und XVI. Jahrhunderte. Prag, Selbstverl., 1896. Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, https://digitale-sammlungen.de/en/view/bsb10057341.

19. Morigi, Paolo. La nobilità di Milano. Milano, 1619. Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, https://digitale-sammlungen.de/en/view/bsb10078902.

20. Sánchez de Carranza, Jerónimo. Libro de la philosophía de las armas, y de su destreza, y de la aggression y defension christiana. 1582. Internet Archive, https://archive.org/details/DeLaFilosofiaDeLasArmasYDeSuDestrezaYLaAggressionYDefensaCristiana.

21. Cavina, Marco. Il sangue dell’onore: Storia del duello. Laterza, 2005.

22. Aristotle. Metaphysics. Translated by W. D. Ross, in The Complete Works of Aristotle, edited by Jonathan Barnes, Princeton University Press, 1984, V.1, 1013a17–18.

23. Lenzoni, Carlo. In difesa della lingua Fiorentina, e di Dante. Firenze, 1556.
    Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, https://digitale-sammlungen.de/en/view/bsb10165991.

24. Accademia de' Gelati, Bologna. Prose De' Signori Accademici Gelati Di Bologna. Bologna: Manolessi, 1671.

25. Fratus, Stephen. “With Malice and Cunning: Anonymous 16th Century Manuscript on Bolognese Swordsmanship.” Lulu Press. 18 February 2020. Print.

26. Swanger, Jherek. “The Duel, or the Flower of Arms for Single Combat, Both Offensive and Defensive, by Achille Marozzo.” Lulu Press. 22 April 2018. Print.

27. Swanger, Jherek. “The Schermo of Angelo Viggiani dal Montone of Bologna.” 2002. Digital.

28. Leoni, Tom. “The Complete Renaissance Swordsman: Antonio Manciolino’s Opera Nova (1531)” Freelance Academy Press. 27 May 2015. Print.

29. Tomassetti, Silvia. Alle Strette! Prese e Disarmi nella Scherma Barocca. Independently Published. 2025.

30. List of works in the Marescalchi Fondo, courtesy of Francesco Loda and Silvia Tomasetti.

1

Pierre Mareschal translated and published a copy of Marozzo, titled, Livre d’escrime pour apprendre à tirer de l’efpee & de toutes armes, according to the 1585 catalogue by Antoine Du Verdier, titled, La bibliotheque (Françoise) {last known shelf number (1886): in-4, s.d.}. Notably, this reference predates the previous known reference by almost 300 years.

That said, Pierre Marescahal the elder, was born in 1492 and died in 1529. It’s unlikely that he was the one to translate and publish Marozzo’s Opera Nova, unless a prospective 1528 seminal publication date is correct (Gotti/Jaquet). Moreover, Pierre Mareschal the younger, wasn’t born until 1574, and it’s also unlikely that he would’ve translated and published Marozzo at the age of 8. So, it’s most likely that this publication of Marozzo was produced by Pierre’s successor, his son Jean (1510-1590), who enherited the family buisness and remained active in Lyon until 1563, before fleeing to Basel and then Heidelberg, where he became an accredited university bookseller. Interestingly, Jean Mareschal’s time in Basel (at least 1563-1566) would’ve put him in the company of many of the printers and artists who produced Joachim Meyer’s fencing treatises, at the time when they were being produced, and Jean’s arrival in 1563 coincides with Meyer’s inclusion of the Segno in MS A.4º.2, so called, Joachim Meyers Fäktbok (1563-1568).

Interestingly, Pierre “the elder” is known to have produced the first, now famous, “suicide king” on his playing cards.

On July 29th, I started going down a cavernous rabbit hole looking for historical evidence of Sebastiano Marozzo, and the Marozzo family’s activity in Bologna and abroad. I was quickly sidetracked by an entry in Schremapedia regarding Lelio Tedeschi, that noted that Sebastiano Marozzo and Achille Marozzo (presumably Sebastiano’s son) were both fencing masters in Bologna. In conjunction with this, it mentioned that the famed Venetian Fencing master who had become all the rage in Bologna during the late 16th to early 17th century was likely Lelio Tedeschi. The first I had heard about this Venetian sensation was from Mike Smallridge, so I asked him to go down the rabbit hole with me, and this is what we found.

Lelio Tedeschi and Giovani Francesco Tedeschi:

In the late 16th century, Lelio Tedeschi made waves across Europe—he had revolutionized fencing forever! According to him and later his son, he had created the most novel disarm Christendom had ever seen. Something completely new and revolutionary! But—he had a problem. It’s one thing to say you’re the bees knees, and it’s another to get everyone to believe you’re the bees knees. So, he set out on a quest to teach all of the princes and fencing masters across Italy to gain their approval—and amazingly he did!

According to Lelio’s son, Giovanni Francesco, Cesare d’Este the Duke of Ferrara, the Bolognese Senate, Don Victor Amadeus I the Marquis of Peveragno and Bois and Grand Commander of Savoy, Charles Emmanuel the Duke of Savoy, Sigismondo Gonzaga Myskowski the Grand Marshall of Poland, Charles I Gonzaga the Duke of Mantua, Filippo Colonna the 6th Prince of Paliano, Luigi Carafa della Marra 4th Prince of Stigliano, Don Fabrizio Branciforte 3rd Prince of Butera, Don Alberico I Cybo-Malaspina the 1st Prince of Massa and Marquis of Carrara, Thomas Francis the Prince of Carignano, Fabrizio Branciforte the 3rd Prince of Butera, Thomas Francis of Savoy the 1st Prince of Carignano, and Giovanni Siro da Correggio d’Austria—all wrote letters of recommendation.

It wasn’t just this battery of French, Spanish, Polish and Italian nobility, it was also a complement of Bolognese fencing masters! Thanks to a transcription of the 1605 version posted by Matt Galas, way back in 2008—working on getting the original scans now (Update: got em! See appendix below)—we know exactly who was hanging out with Lelio, and thought that his novel and ‘most excellent’ disarm was worth ascribing their names and reputations to.

Bolognese Fencing Masters:

• Sebastiano Marozzo

• Achille {II} Marozzo, Maestro di Scrima

• Giovanni Paolo Zagarini

• Bernardino Serenari, Maestro di Scrima

• Battista Malaspina, Maestro di Scrima

• Gratioso Bolzani

• Girolamo Vighi da Reggio, Maestro of rule and reason of the sword, presently in Bologna

To this list we can add Torquato d’Alessandri’s compendium of fencing masters in Bologna, catalogued in his 1609 work, Il Cavalier Compito1:

• Francesco & Vicenzo Marcelli, known as the Abruzzesi

• Appio Castelli

• Giovanni Angelo Paternostraro

• Antonio Rinaldi

While in Rome, Florence and abroad or unmentioned in either source we have the following Bolognese masters:

• Camillo Palladini (Rome)

• Oratio & Cesare Cavalcabo (Rome)

• Torqueto d’Alessandri (Viterbo)

• Pedro de Heredia (Netherlands)

• Mercurio Spezioli (Bologna)

• Girolamo Cavalcabo (France)

• Antonio da Bologna (Florence)

• Girolamo Lucino (Casalmaggiore/Bolognese territory)

The neat thing about Lelio Tedeschi’s 1605 letters of recommendation signed by Sebastiano Marozzo and Achille {II} Marozzo, is we get hints of biographical details about Sebastiano Marozzo and the Marozzo family. Lelio refers to his time spent with Sebatiano as “{with/in} good memory”, which probably signifies that Sebastiano died prior to the publication in 1605, while Achille Marozzo is given no such epitaph, which indicates this was probably the son of Sebastiano or a progeny of the Marozzo family. That means that the Marozzo family produced three generations of fencing masters, starting with the elder Achille Marozzo (1553†), on to Sebastiano who republished his father’s work in 1567-1568, and finally to Achille II whose legacy was still well respected and sought after by the likes of Lelio Tedeschi.

The Venetian?

Now, regarding our mysterious Venetian fencing master who revolutionized fencing in Bologna, Jacapo Gelli asserts that it couldn’t be Lelio Tedeschi, because he refers to himself as Bolognese and instead postulates that this Venetian sensation was in fact Girolamo di Grassi—who was Modenese. Before we get into that further, let's look at the origins of this story. The mystery stems from Michael de Montaigne’s, Journal du voyage du Michel de Montaigne en Italie par la Suisse et l'Allemagne en 1580 et 1581, where he states:

This ‘style of drawing the weapon’ sounds exactly like Lelio Tedeschi’s technique, of which he states in the 1605 introduction, “{Those} have witnessed and tested the secret of Lelio de’ Tedeschi, Citizen of Bologna, Declared the first inventor of the true and reliable method of disarming the opponent in the very act of striking or parrying.” (Smallridge)

So, could Lelio Tedeschi be—the Venetian?

The surname Tedeschi or Tedesco is by no means unique, simply defined it means German, but it was also used to denote Ashkenazic Jew’s who settled in Italy. Linguistically, Tedeschi is derived from Theodiscus, which means non-Romance language speaker, and shares an etymological root with the name Deutsch or Dutch. It’s use in relation to the Jewish community likely refers to the continued use of the Hebrew language or Yiddish variants.2 Of note, the city of Bologna has a long Jewish history, and in the 15th century the Jewish population flourished in large part because of the cooperation and protection granted by the Bentivoglio family.3

A cursory glance at Guidicini shows that it’s possible that there were at least three prominent Bolognese families with the Tedeschi surname: one Jewish4, one that bought property in Via Saragozza in the 17th century (which, very well could be Lelio’s progeny)5, and one noble.6 The later of those families likely produced the great 14th Century Bolognese Condottiere Fuzzolino Tedesco who got lanced off of his horse so hard in 1402 that he knocked out five riders behind him and was killed, while another notable Tedeschi in Bologna, was the famous mid-to-late 17th century bronze sculptor and artist Giovanni Tedeschi.

The Tedeschi surname was fairly common across Italy. This visualization produced by gens.labo.net, a graduate study produced by the Humanities department at the University of Genoa, shows us a concentration of Tedeschi along the Via Emilia in northern Italy, and a cluster in Lazio and Naples. Surprisingly, there aren’t many Tedeschi descendants living in Venice or the Veneto, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t or weren’t some without merit. The Venetian wine making family, the Tedeschi, set their roots in the Veneto (Valpolicella) in the 17th century, and have maintained the family business in the region since its inception in 1630.

It’s argued that Lelio repatriated to Bologna and became a citizen, but was originally from Venice or the Terraferma—thus he was the Venetian. This is certainly a compelling argument, but without further biographical details it’s almost impossible to prove.

The author of this assertion was Dr. Alessandro d’Ancona, who transcribed and annotated Montaigne’s work in 1895, he notes:

“Despite all our research, we have not been able to discover who this master of arms was, a Venetian but resident in Bologna, who had made notable innovations in his art. Around the time of Montaigne, we find Lelio de' Tedeschi in Bologna, who boasted of new inventions in the field, and who printed in Bologna in 1605 the certificates in his favor of the best Bolognese fencers, asking for a prize. But in the title itself, which we report in full, he describes himself as a Bolognese: Collection of the testimonies of some Italian princes and lords, who have known and proven the secret of Lelio de' Tedeschi, a citizen of Bologna, declared the first inventor of the true and safe method of raising the sword from the opponent's hand in the act of striking or parrying. Dedicated to the most powerful and Catholic King of Spain. In Bologna by Vittorio Benacci 1605. - This could be the master mentioned by Montaigne, unless either he was mistaken in calling him Venetian, or he was a Venetian who obtained Bolognese citizenship.” (pg. 154-155; footnote 4)

Sighting Alessandro d’Acona’s annotation, Jacopo Gelli countered this argument in his 1906 publication, l’Arte dell’Armi in Italia:

“Around Montaigne's time, we find Nicoletto Giganti in Bologna (1600). Lelio de' Tedeschi, who boasted of new inventions in the field, printed in Bologna in 1605 the certificates in his favor of the best Bolognese fencers, asking for a prize. But in the very title, which we quote in full, he identifies himself as a Bolognese: "Collection of the testimonies of some Italian princes and lords, who have known and approved the secret of Lelio de Tedeschi, a citizen of Bologna, declared the first inventor of the true and safe method of raising the sword from the opponent's hand when striking or parrying. Dedicated to the most powerful and Catholic King of Spain. In Bologna by Vittorio Benacci 1605."

I believe that the Venetian, a famous master of the art of fencing, remembered by Montaigne, must be Giacomo di Grassi, or Angelo Viggiani dal Montone. The former was born in Modena, the latter identifies himself as a Bolognese. Giacomo di Grassi printed a treatise of his in Venice (published by Giorgio de' Cavalli in 1570) "Reasons for safely using weapons, both for offense and defense; with his treatise on deception, and a method of self-training to acquire strength, judgment, and quickness. Angelo Viggiani, on the other hand, published in Venice (Giorgio Angeleri) in 1575 "Lo schermo...,. In which, through dialogue, he discusses the excellence of arms and letters, and of offense and defense. And he teaches a safe and unique fencing for a single sword, etc." But why Viggiani lived occasionally and for short periods in Bologna, I definitely exclude this, especially since he died around 1550.

The time of Montaigne's journey across the peninsula coincides with the date of the publication of Giacomo di Grassi, who enjoyed a very good reputation in Bologna and beyond at the time for having brought substantial innovations to his art, thanks to which Italian fencing made extraordinary progress. Indeed, Di Grassi devised the sword ranks, the touches, the lines of attack and defense, which are still practiced today. And since Di Grassi was from Modena, it remains to be clarified why Montaigne attributed the anonymous master the title of Venetian. Di Grassi did not always live in Modena or Bologna; he spent a long time in the Veneto, especially in Treviso, where he was welcomed and hosted with the respect due to a celebrated master by the Onigo, Renaldi, Branca Scolari, and other Venetian gentlemen, who greatly honored him. And The master, for whom gratitude was not an empty or misleading word, dedicated his work, mentioned above, to his protectors and friends in Treviso. Nothing is more likely, therefore, than that Grassi was given the nickname "Venetian" because he went to practice his art in Bologna, after his long residence in Treviso and Padua. Finally, that Di Grassi enjoyed a high reputation.”

Gelli's inclusion of Viggiani is a bit absurd. A more reasonable second option may have been Giovanni dall’Agocchie, whose patron, Fabio Pepoli, became Venetian nobility thanks to his service to the Most Serene Republic. The problem with the more logical dall’Agocchie and Gelli’s main prospect Girolamo di Grassi, is that they require the same logical gymnastics to reach the same conclusion. Repatriation. As they were either Emilians in Venetian service or a Venetian who settled in Bologna.

Anecdotally, the assertion that the Venetian sensation described by Michael de Montaigne is Lelio Tedeschi does seem to have some traction. Whether the epitaph the Venetian was a misnomer or an indication of Lelio’s native origin, contextually his case seems to fit Montaigne’s description the best. Gelli's argument that Di Grassi is the famed master lacks a certain nuance, and perspective of the texts being described.

One thing is for certain, regardless of their origin, Lelio Tedeschi’s family made quite the business out of selling his secret technique and flourished in Bologna. Lelio notes, that the agency and secrecy of his technique was necessary to feed his growing family of 7 children. After his death, between 1605 and 1620, his son Giovanni Francesco took up the mantle of his father’s work and would write in his 1620 publication, that he would continue to preserve the agency and secrecy of his fathers technique but would gladly show his patrons in-person for a fee—once again, to support his father’s now 9 children, and in loving memory parents (again using the term ‘in good memory’). They were good Catholics.

A European Sensation:

Lelio Tedeschi and his son Giovanni Francesco took his technique on a grand tour hitting Bologna, Modena, Turin, Venice, Naples, Palermo, Massa, and Correggio. Their touring schedule looked something like this:

Key: Place, Date: Party Entertained (author) [date, publication]

• Bologna, May 19th 1602: Bolognese Fencing masters, Alessandro Pepoli, and Carlo Serafino (Lelio) [1605; Bologna]

• Modena, July 8th 1602: Cesare d’Este Duke of Modena, and Reggio (Lelio)

• Bologna, January 31st 1605: Bolognese Senate (Lelio)

• Turin, November 23rd 1606: Charles Emanuel (Lelio)

• Turin, October 7th 1607: Amadeus of Savoy (Lelio)

• Bologna, September 11th 1608: Sigismondo Miscorski Gonzaga Grand Marshall of the Kingdom of Poland (Lelio)

• Venice, April 3rd 1609: Carlo Gonzaga Prince of Mantua (Lelio)

• Naples, January 15th 1614: Filippo Colonna Prince of Paliano (Gio. Francesco)

• Naples, March 7th 1614: Luigi Carafa della Mara, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire (Gio. Francesco)

• Palmero, April 25th 1614: Fabritio Branciforte, Prince of Butera (Gio. Francesco)

• Massa, October 25th 1615: Alberico Cybo Malaspina, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire (Gio. Francesco)

• Turin, April 13th 1616: Tomas of Savoy, Prince and General of Cavalry (Gio. Franesco)

• Correggio, December 8th 1616: Siro of Austria, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire (Gio. Francesco)

This sojourn prospectively puts Lelio and his son in the company of some pretty incredible fencing authors, including Federico Ghisiliero (Savoy), Giovanni Battista Gaiani (Savoy) Niccoletto Giganti (Venice; 1 year after publication), Giacomo di Grassi (Modena), Bonaventura Pisofilo (Ferrara), Alfonso Falloppia (Parma), Francesco Marcelli (Bologna), Giovanni Antonio Lovino (Milan) and perhaps even a character like Henry de Sainct Didier (Paris)—not to mention the bevvy of Bolognese masters listed above.

Now, you may be asking yourself, if Lelio prospectively taught or interacted with all of these fencing masters, why didn’t his novel technique show up in any extant manuals? The answer lies in the text. He had all of the patrons who witnessed or learned the technique sign a sworn affidavit that they wouldn’t share his technique with anyone. His laundry list of whose-who among the Italian, French, Polish, and German nobility meant that breaking this oath could have some serious consequences, it’s the 17th century equivalent of an intellectual patent. That said—this might not have stopped one particular fencing master from letting the secret out.

The Technique:

What do we know about the technique?

• It’s a disarm—even against a stronger opponent

• It’s a novel technique

• It happens in the act of striking or parrying

• It can be learned in less than two hours

• You do not wound the adversary

• It involves a passing step

• It involves the off-hand on the blade of the sword

Lelio declares that, “…my work consists of demonstrating how, in combat, with great ease and without danger, one may take the sword from the enemy in the very act of striking or parrying any blow in single sword play,” to which he later continues, “…I have discovered how anyone—even one far removed from the handling of arms, and of little strength—may easily learn in less than two hours how, in the act of striking or parrying any blow while passing, to take the sword from the enemy’s hand, even were he the stronger man, in single sword combat, I have wished—being aware of the great benefit this may bring to the world, since one may achieve greater victory without wounding one’s adversary…” (txn. Gallas, trans. Smallridge)

Then we get Sebastiano Marozzo’s thoughts:

“This may be the cause whereby the sin of homicide—so odious in the eyes of God—might not be committed, since instead of killing, one might take away the adversary’s sword. Thus men shall avoid being condemned when they are imprisoned, and at the same time, avoid the ruin of men and families that is commonly brought about through death.” (txn. Gallas, trans. Smallridge)

To which Lelio adds the smallest hint about the nature of his secret disarm:

First, I declare that the sword may be taken from the hand using a single sword, with gripping glove (guanto da presa), in whatever Italian-style engagement one may fine oneself; and that in nearly all forms of sword fight (cortellate), the same may likewise be done, and in situations that if the opportunity does not arise, i say that with bare hands little to no harm would be done, provided the sword be taken at the proper time, in the proper manner, and with knowledge of fencing. And this we have seen from a certain French gentleman, who, in throwing the sword into the air and catching it again several times with his bare hand, caused no injury whatsoever. (txn. Gallas, trans. Smallridge)

In the process of racking our brains about what this secret technique could be, Mike suggested Federico Ghisiliero’s, garatusa or ‘the squiggle’, a random disarm that shows up fairly out of context Ghisiliero’s 1587, Regole di molti cavagliereschi essercitii. If Lelio is the Venetian, then his technique was all the rage in Bologna 7 years prior to Ghisilieri’s publication. Here is a description of the prospective technique:

My longtime training partner, Harry Hupman and I tried out Ghisilieri’s disarm, and this is what we came up with. If this is what Lelio intended, then the addition of the left hand on the sword blades would make the raising of the swords, and the prosecution of the disarm, much more effective.

1605 Translation:

COLLECTION OF THE TESTIMONIALS OF CERTAIN ITALIAN PRINCES AND LORDS

Who have witnessed and tested the secret of Lelio de’ Tedeschi, Citizen of Bologna, Declared the first inventor of the true and reliable method of disarming the opponent in the very act of striking or parrying.

Dedicated to the Most Powerful and Catholic King of Spain, etc.

[Arms of Spain]

IN BOLOGNA,

By Vittorio Benacci.

1605

With licence of the Superiors.

TO THE MOST POWERFUL AND CATHOLIC PHILIP III, KING OF SPAIN, etc.

Sacred Royal Catholic Majesty,

Having resolved to dedicate to Your Royal Majesty my small labour, I trust that it shall be graciously accepted with the same benignity with which the great God received the offering made to Him by the poor old woman. For though my gift is far disproportionate to Your Royal Majesty’s greatness, it is, nonetheless, of the greatest worth that I am able to offer: my work consists in demonstrating how, in combat, with great ease and without danger, one may take the sword from the enemy in the very act of striking or parrying any blow in single sword play.

This is a matter which, after long study, has come to me more as a gift from the hand of God than through my own ingenuity or learning.

Of the usefulness, effectiveness, and truth of this proposition, so many noble Lords, Knights, and Princes bear witness as Your Royal Majesty may see by casting your eyes over some of these pages. And the approval and testimony of so many noble persons has emboldened me to dedicate this invention to Your Majesty—whatever its true worth may be—casting it at Your Royal Feet, and humbly supplicating that You deign to stoop and regard it for a moment.

Thus may God preserve Your Royal Person, prosper You in all Your actions, and ever increase Your glory according to Your lofty desires.

Your Sacred Royal Catholic Majesty’s

Most humble servant,

Lelio de’ Tedeschi, of Bologna.

TO THE KIND READERS,

Knowing, by the mercy of Divine Goodness, that I have discovered how anyone—even one far removed from the handling of arms, and of little strength—may easily learn in less than two hours how, in the act of striking or parrying any blow while passing, to take the sword from the enemy’s hand, even were he the stronger man, in single sword combat, I have wished—being aware of the great benefit this may bring to the world, since one may achieve greater victory without wounding one’s adversary—to publish this my new invention.

This invention has been declared as such by all the Excellent Masters of Fencing, not only of this city, but also by foreigners, as the many attestations will show. Among them, at the beginning of this work, readers shall see that the Most Serene Duke of Modena, having encountered me there concerning certain affairs of mine, was presented with my secret. His Most Serene Highness at first considered it, as might anyone unfamiliar with it, to be fantastical and impossible due to its novelty and scope. But having put it to the test with me, His Highness found it to be true, simple, and admirable—and as a sign thereof, after extending his open hand, he deigned even to apply his fist to the subscription and his most worthy testimony.

And later, when the news reached the Most Serene Duke of Mantua, he sent persons expressly to take hold of it. And having witnessed the demonstration himself, he, as a most courteous Prince, received this invention of mine graciously and recognised it, treating me splendidly in accordance with the generosity of his royal nature. He issued a patent bearing his own hand in affirmation—just as also the Most Illustrious Senate of Bologna, having seen the demonstration, favoured me with ample testimonial and declared me to be the first inventor of this art.

The teaching of it I reserve to myself, believing it only right that it fall under oath-bound secrecy, not for any reason other than to ensure that I not be deprived of the benefit which may come to me from this virtue—granted to us, perhaps, by the Lord for the sake of the nine children I presently have.

For all of this, let blessed God—the giver of all grace—be praised.

From Bologna, the 2nd of September, 1605.

IN THE NAME OF THE MOST HOLY TRINITY,

True and Eternal God.

I, Lelio de’ Tedeschi, having by the grace of God discovered the true method of taking the sword from the hand of the enemy in place of wounding him—a matter so useful and necessary to all men, and especially to those who make profession of arms, that it has never before been read nor heard of—have therefore resolved, for the public good, after lengthy discourse with the principal Masters of Italy, and in particular with the late Master Sebastiano Marozzi, most excellent in his time, to reveal this noble secret.

This may be the cause whereby the sin of homicide—so odious in the eyes of God—might not be committed, since instead of killing, one might take away the adversary’s sword. Thus shall men avoid being condemned when they are imprisoned, and at the same time, avoid the ruin of men and families that is commonly brought about through death.

And to attest to the truth that this art has never before been brought to light, nor read, nor heard of, nor discovered by any other but myself, it shall be affirmed by the hand of the most excellent Masters of Fencing whose names appear below.

I offer myself ready at all hours to demonstrate this noble secret, under the following conditions:

First, I declare that the sword may be taken from the hand using a single sword, with a gripping glove (guanto da presa), in whatever Italian-style engagement one may find oneself; and that in nearly all forms of sword fight (cortellate), the same may likewise be done, and in situations that if the opportunity does not arise, I say that with bare hands little or no harm would be done, provided the sword be taken at the proper time, in the proper manner, and with knowledge of fencing. And this we have seen from a certain French gentleman, who, in throwing the sword into the air and catching it again several times with his bare hand, caused no injury whatsoever.

Secondly, whoever shall learn from me the aforesaid skill may never display nor teach it to others, unless he shall have obtained licence from me or from my heirs, nor may he in any way cause another to learn it, but may only make use of it in his own personal affairs or disputes. And should he act otherwise, he swears and binds himself, in the form of the Apostolic Camera, to make full restitution for damages and for whatever gain he shall have acquired through said secret, and under penalty of one hundred scudi to be paid to me—or to my heirs—on each occasion he shall violate this, and moreover, he shall be declared and held to be an infamous man, stripped of honour, and incapable of obtaining or enjoying any privilege whatsoever, as one who has broken faith and word.

And to confirm that what is said and written here shall be observed, each person shall sign in his own hand, swearing as above. And I do this so that my secret may not be stolen from me, along with the profit it may in time bring me and my seven children—as appears also in my handwritten book, together with other oaths.

Third and last, that after the aforesaid subscriptions, the reward be given to me that to each Lord shall seem deserving, for revealing to them this most noble secret, and the better they perform, the more and in more ways shall I show them how to take the sword from the hand using the principles and science of fencing.

…as I have said, may God ever be praised for infinite ages of ages. Amen.

And I pray that He grant me a good beginning, a better continuation, and an excellent end.

I, Lelio de’ Tedeschi, son of Master Vincenzo de’ Tedeschi, have written, &c.

Subscriptions of all the Excellent Masters of Fencing of Bologna.

I, Achille Marozzi, Master of Fencing, declare it to be the truth that the disarming of an enemy, as described in the present writing, is a thing of great worth, and one never before accomplished by any person.

I, Gio. Paolo Zagarini, confess that when the secret of taking the sword from the enemy is effected as contained in the present writing, I consider it the finest invention that can be found, and one deserving of great reward, for never has such a skill been found, nor practised, nor heard of, &c.

I, Bernardino Serenari, Master of Fencing, likewise confess to all that is contained in the subscription of the aforesaid Signor Gio. Paolo Zagarini, and affirm it to be the truth, &c.

I, Gio. Battista Malaspina, Master of Fencing, affirm as have the above-named Masters in their subscriptions.

I, Gratioso Bolzani, Master of Fencing, affirm all that the aforementioned Masters have declared, &c.

I, Girolamo Vighi of Reggio, Master of Rules and the theory of the sword, presently in Bologna, say that when it is true that the aforesaid man, and in the aforesaid manner, takes the sword from the enemy—that he possesses a secret the like of which I have never seen nor heard—and it is worthy to be desired and rewarded by every Knight.

Here end the subscriptions of all the Masters of Fencing who, from the year 1602, were found in Bologna, all of whom have recognised their own handwriting, and together have sworn the truth of what they have stated; and all of this was recorded by Master Stefano Fontana, Notary of the Most Illustrious Monsignor the Vice-Legate of Bologna, under the date of 19 May, which, for the sake of brevity, are here omitted, &c.

Subscription of the Illustrious Signor Carlo Serafino, who was the first to give rise to the aforementioned honourable art, with the oaths and methods that shall be understood upon reading; and to the same, every Lord who has learned from me has bound himself, namely:

I, Carlo Serafino, having read all of the aforesaid writing and desiring to learn the aforesaid method of taking the sword from the enemy, do swear and bind myself—touching the writing with my hand—to observe all that is contained in the second chapter, which begins: "He who shall learn from me…” renouncing every privilege and favour that I might otherwise obtain contrary to this, and whatever the cause may be, I do not wish to be held worthy of any excuse whatsoever. And in faith I have made the present declaration in my own hand, &c.

I, Carlo Serafino, having indeed tested what is contained in the present writing, confess it to be the truth, and declare that the aforesaid Master Lelio has accomplished all that is contained herein, and possesses—so far as I am concerned—the true method of taking the sword from the hand. And as I have said, I swear it and confirm it upon my honour.

The Most Illustrious Lord Count Alessandro Pepoli of Bologna.

I, Alessandro Pepoli, having read the present document and touched it with my hand, do swear and bind myself to all that Signor Carlo Serafino is bound to observe.

I, Alessandro Pepoli, having indeed tested the aforesaid Master Lelio in what is contained in the present writing, confess it to be the truth—that he possesses the true method of taking the sword from the hand—and, touching the document with my hand, I swear it and confirm it upon my honour.

Transcription by: Matt Galas (2008)

Translation by: Mike Smallridge (2025)

Late 16th Early 17th Century Bolognese Fencing School:

An unbroken legacy of Marozzo’s spanning over 100 years in Bologna is a beautiful sight to behold. However, what intrigues me the most about this little dive into the world of early 17th century Bolognese fencing, is actually Montluc’s mention that he, “stopped in the city for the school of arms and horsemanship.”

We certainly know of a school of arms and horsemanship that was flourishing in the late 16th and early 17th century—d’Academia de Cavaliere della Viola or the Desti; as they were also known. The school of arms and horsemanship’s association with this unnamed Venetian master, provides some intriguing insight. If our Venetian was Lelio de Tedeschi then that might indicate that the Marozzo fencing family were involved in the Knights of Viola’s recreation movement in some way, the indication of which would be:

• A school for the training of arms and horsemanship:

  • “During that period, the populace was significantly distressed by the famine, which was acutely felt throughout the year. Nevertheless, the gentlemen continued to host feasts, tournaments, and jousts, as many had recently formed an esteemed society known as the Academy of the Knights of the Viola. This title was derived from their meetings in a palace owned by Besso Ferrerio, Marchese of Masserano, which had been appropriated by the merchant of the people. To avoid squandering their youth in idleness, they diligently engaged in activities such as training in arms, riding, and other honorable pursuits. Frequently, during the carnival season, or in celebration of a marriage or other joyous events, they would organize jousts, tournaments, or festivities featuring splendid inventions and extravagant expenditures.” (Vizzani, pg. 53)8

• Sebastiano and Achille Marozzo, Giovanni Paolo Zagarini, Bernardino Serenari, Battista Malaspina, Girolamo Vighi da Reggio, and Gratioso Bolzani appearing separate from d’Alessandro’s 1609 list of fencing masters.

• The inclusion of Alessandro Pepoli, who got arrested or confined alongside Battista Bianchini and Pirro III Malvezzi; a knight of Viola, for bringing armed men into the city in 1578.

  • “And while everyone was trying to gain the indulgence of the Jubilee, Pirro Maluezzi, Giulio, and Alessandro Pepoli, and Giouan Battista Bianchini, all Counts, with some of their other friends, were confined, by order of the Pope, to various places and cities outside the ecclesiastical state, for having given refuge to bandits, henchmen, and swordsmen; and for having, with the fear of popular tumult, marched through the city by day and by night accompanied by too numerous squads of armed men: but then at the end of the year they were all pardoned.” (Vizzani, pg. 79)

• One of the founders of the Knights of Viola, and it's chief patron was Federico Ghisiliero’s cousin, Ettore Ghisilieri.

  • Dal N.2954 al N.2960 – Orto della Viola, e Collegio Ferrerio.

    “It is said that the Accademia del Viridario had its foundation and residence in the Palazzino by Giovanni di Filoteo Achillini in 1511, whose emblem was a laurel plant with the motto — E SPE IN SPEM — When this one died out, another one arose, called the Viola, or the Desti, instituted in July 1561 by the knight Ettore Ghisilieri for chivalric exercises, jousts, tournaments, barriers, etc.” (Guidicini)

Contrary to this, the disassociation between noted 1605 and 1609 groups of Bolognese masters could indicate a Guelf and a Ghibelline divide; that is those who support the French and those who support the Empire—in this period. With the Ghibelline masters represented by the presumed Vizzani lineage (Cavalcabo, Et al.; noted by d’Alessandro), while the presumed Marozzo lineage, which includes dall’Agocchie, that is primarily associated with the Guelf leaning Pepoli family is present in Lelio Tedeschi’s work. It seems that many of the deeper domestic divides had subsided by the turn of the 17th century—after the brutal execution of Giovanni Pepoli—but it's hard to say for sure.

However, a more logical answer is that the Knights of Viola were impactful and influential beyond the borders of Bologna. Pirro III Malvezzi’s well-won acclaim during the Third French War of Religion, notably at the battles of La Rochel’Abeille and Moncontour earned him a private audience with the dowager Queen Catherine de’ Medici, followed by a presentation to the king, Charles IX, who offered him a permanent command worthy of his nobility.9 A series of meetings that may have afforded Girolamo Cavalcabo his introduction to the French court.

Vincenzo Legnani, another Knight of Viola, was also highly sought after in the wake of the Moncontour campaign. Cardinal Alessandro Sforza requested Legnano's services to train the battaliae or Papal militias in the Romagna because he believed that Vincenzo was, “a man with the necessary knowledge to ensure their proper functioning.”10

It would certainly seem reasonable that Monluc and Montaigne would want to stop-in and see the Bolognese Academia that produced so many knights of acclaim.

One thing that’s certain, is we know more about the late 16th to early 17th century Bolognese fencing tradition than the late 15th into early 16th century. Eleven fencing masters in total over a four-year period is a wealth of information.

Conclusion:

While Lelio’s secret technique still remains a mystery, the historiographical details he provides are unquestionably invaluable. This little book of boilerplate will continue to provide a ton of interest and intrigue for a long time to come. Even if we never discover the secret disarm, the amount of travel he put into his campaign, the princes, dukes, and fencing masters he met along the way, and the impact it had on fencing traditions in various cities is deserving of further study.

Lelio was writing at a time when there was a major shift in dueling culture in northern Italy. Gone were the days of Duke Alphonso d’Este’s gladiatorial stadium ‘Praisolo’ in Ferrara11, or Duke Cosimo I de' Medici’s three designated dueling fields in Florence. Pius V issued a Papal Bull on November 29th 1567, reinforcing the decision made at the Council of Trent which banned the practice of dueling, bull fighting, and any such activity that could lead to harm or death.12 This doesn't mean that dueling stopped per se, it just went underground, and that's where the novelty of Lelio’s novel disarm earned it's merit. In order for fencing masters to show that they were in compliance with His Beatitudes Bull, it helped to have some tricks for peacefully de-escalating a conflict—as Sebastiano noted.

Necessity breeds opportunity.

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Recognition and Thanks:

Special thanks to Matt Galas for letting us use his partial transcription of the 1605 edition of Lelio Tedeschi. Thanks of course to Mike Smallridge for indulging this wild pursuit, and putting some serious work into crafting some brilliant translations, tables and lists related to Tedeschi’s work. Thanks to Niccolò Menozzi for rallying our friends in northern Italy to take a look at the Università di Bologna’s archives. Special thanks to Veronique McMillan for translating the French passage of Montaigne, and to Aaron Miedema for providing the scans of the 1605!

Appendix:

Matt Galas’s 22nd October 2008 Post on the Schola Gladatoria Forum:

From Matt Galas:

Some time ago, I obtained a copy of Lelio Tedeschi's work, printed in Bologna in 1605. If you look online, you will find quite a few references stating that this is a manual on disarming. In fact, Tedeschi's work is not a fencing manual at all, and it is only 24 pages long.On the contrary, it appears to be a kind of sales pitch by Tedeschi, lauding his special method of disarming the opponent (apparently by striking the sword out of his hand), and giving a series of sworn statements backing him up. The first of these are attestations by all the fencing masters practicing in Bologna in 1602. Each of these attests to the value of his method. The second group of statements appear to be his many students. Among the fencing masters listed are Sebastiano Marozzo (son of the famous Achille Marozzo) and another Achille Marozzo (apparently the grandson of the famous master. Below is the listing of the masters in Bologna in 1602. After that is a transcription (but not translation) of the first 9 pages of the book. Regards, - Matt Galas / Mons, Belgium ==========================================

Sottoscrittioni di tutti li Eccellenti Mastri di Scrima di Bologna. (Subscription of all the excellent masters of fencing in Bologna.)

Io Achile Marozzi Mastro di Scrima dico... (I, Achille Marozzo, Master of Fence, say that...

Io Gio Paolo Zagarini confesso... (I, Giovanni Paolo Zagarini testify that...)

Io Bernardino Serenari Mastro di Scrima anch'io confesso...(I, Bernardino Serenari, Master of Fence, testify that...)

Io Gio Battista Malaspina Mastro di Scrima affermo... (I, Giovanni Battista Malaspina, Master of Fence, affirm that...)

Io Gratioso Bolzani Mastro di Scrima affermo quanto dice gli sopradetti Mastri, &c. (I, Gratioso Bolzani, Master of Fence, affirm what has been said by the aforementioned masters, etc.)

Io Girolamo Vighi da Reggio Mastro di Regole, et ragion di spada, et al presente in Bologna, dico... (I, Girolamo Vighi da Reggio, Master of the Rule and Reason of the Sword, presently in Bologna, say that...)

Finisce le sottoscrittioni di tutti li Mastri di Scrima, che dall' anno 1602 si truovarono in Bologna... (Thus finishes the subscription of all the masters of fence, who were found in Bologna in the year 1602...)

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1 RACCOLTA DELLE FEDI D'ALCUNI PRENCIPI, ET SS.ri ITALIANI Che hanno conosciuto, & provato il secreto di Lelio de' Tedeschi Cittadino Bolognese, Dichiarato primo inventore del vero, & sicuro modo dilevar nell' atto del ferire, ò del parare la spadadi mano all' avversario. Dedicata Al Potentissimo, & Catolico Re di Spagna, &c. [Arms of Spain] IN BOLOGNA, Per Vittorio Benacci. 1605 Con licenza de' Superiori. 2 [blank] 3 AL POTENTISSIMO,ET CATOLICO FILIPPO III.RE DI SPAGNA, &c. S. R. C. M. Havendo io risoluto di dedicar allaR.M.V. la picciola fatica mia, con-fido, che restarà servita di accettar-la con quella benignità, che il grandeIddio recevè l'offerta fattagli dallapovera Vecchia, poi che se bene il miodono è sproportionate alla sua RealGrandezza, e però del maggior valor,che io possa dare alla R.M.V. l'operamia consiste in mostrare, come combattendo con gran facilità,& senza pericolo, si possa levar la spada al nemico, nell' attodel ferire o del parare ogni colpo passando à spada sola, cosadopo lungo studio più tosto ricevuta dalla mano di Dio, che per lomio ingegno, & saper trovata. Dell utilità riuscita, & veritàdi questa mia proposta fanno fede tanti Signori Cavalieri, &Prencipi, quanto la R.M.V. potrà vedere, volgendo alcuna diqueste Carte; Et l'approvatione, e testimonio di tanti Signori miha dato ardire di dedicarle questa inventione, quale ella si sia,però gettato inanzi alli suoi Piedi Reali humilmente la suppli-co si degni inchinarsi à mirarla alquanto. Cosi Dio mantengala sua Real persona, & in tutte le sue attioni, sempre la prosperi,& accresca conform à suoi alti desiderÿ. Di V.R.C.M.Humiliss. ServitoreLelio de TedeschiBolognese. 4 A I BENIGNI LETTORI. Conoscend'io, mercè della Divina Bontà havertrovato come possi ogn'uno, benche lontanodal maneggio dell'armi, & di poca forza impa-rare facilmente in meno di due hore nell'attodel ferire, overo parare ad ogni colpo in pas-sando levar la spada di mano al nemico se ben fosse di luipiù forte conbattendo a spada sola, ho voluto conoscendo ilbeneficio grande, che ne può apportar al mondo, potendosenza ferire l'avversario conseguire maggior vittoria publi-care questa mia nuova inventione, la quale per tale è stata di-chiarata da tutti gli Eccell. Mastri di Scrima, non solo di que-sta Città, ma anco forastieri dando a leggere tanti testificati,tra' quali vedranno nel mio principio, il Sereniss. Duca diModona, che trovandomi cola per certi miei negotii fu pro-posto il mio secreto a S. Alt. Sereniss. quale fu renuto si comepare a chi no'l sà, per la sua grandezza, e novita, fantastico,& impossibile, ma fattone meco la prova S. Alt. lo trovòvero, agevole, & ammirabile, in segno di ciò dopo havereallargata la mano si degnò di adoperare anco il pugno nellasottoscrittione, e testimonio suo dignissimo. E dopo perve-nuto all'orecchie de Sereniss. Duca di Mantova mandom-mi persone a posta a pigliare, & vedutone l'esperienza comecortesissimo Prencipe gradi detta mia inventione, e la rico-nobbe trattandomi splendidamente, conforme alla genero-sità del regio animo suo, & me ne fece patente affermatadi sua mano, si come anco l'illustriss. Senato di Bologna, ha-vendone fatto la prova m'ha favorito di ampia fede, e te-stimonianza dichiarandomi d'essere il primo inventore diquesta virtù, l'insegnamento della quale lo riseibo in me confar cader sotto giuramento la lealtà dovuta al secreto richie-sto licitamente, non per altro, se non perche non mi sia leva-to l'utile, che me ne può avvenire di questa virtù donatamidal Signore, forse per beneficio di nove figliuoli, che al pre-sente mi trovo, che di tutto ne sia lodato Dio benedettodonator d'ogni gratia. Di Bologna li 2. Settemb. 1605. 5 AL NOME SI A DELLASANTISSIMA TRINITAVero Iddio Eterno. Havendo io Lelio de' Tedeschi per gratia diDio, compreso il vero modo di levare la spada di mano al nemico in canbio di offenderlo, cosa tanto utile, e necessaria à ciascuno,& in particolare a chi di arme facci pro-fessione, che mai per il passato è stato letto, ne udito, percioho pensato à beneficio publico dopo lungo discorso havuto conprincipali Maestri d'Italia, & in particolarre con la buonamemoria di M. Sebastiano Marozzi eccellentiss in queitempi, mostrare questo nobile secreto qual potria esser cau-sa, che non si commetteria il peccato dell' homicidio tantoodioso a Dio, posciache in vece di quello gli levar anno la spa-da, & verr anno à fuggire di non essere lor condennati,quando andassero prigioni, & insieme la rovina de gl' huo-mini, & fameglie, che per la morte sogliono causare, & perfede del vero, che detta virtù non sia mai stata in luce almondo ne letta, ne udita, ne da altri, che da me trovata dagl' infrascritti Eccellenti Mastri di Scrima farà di lor ma-no affermata, offerendomi pronto à tutte l'hore mostrarequesto nobil secreto con queste conditioni, e prima dico,Che si possi levar la spada di mano à spada sola, con ilGuanto da presa, in qual si voglia passata all'Italiana, &che quasi in tutte le cortellate il simile si possa fare, & in oc-casione 6 casione, che non si trovasse il Quanto, dico, che à mano nudapoco mal si faria, ò niente quando fosse presa la spada neltempo, e modo, e scienza della Scrima, & questo lo hab-biamo visto da un Sig Francese nel gittare la spada in alto,e ripigliar la più volte à mano nuda senza punto di offesa. Secondo, chi imparar à da me la sudetta virtù mai lapossa mostrare, ne insegnare ad altri se da me, overo da mieiheredi non havesse licenza, ne tampoco far in modo, che al-cuno la possi imparare, ma solo valer sene nelle sue occasio-ni di quistione, & quando facessino altramente giurano, &si obligano in forma Camera Apostolica alta restitutionedel danno, & di quel tanto, che per detto secreto havesseroguadagnato, & sotto pena di scudi cento da pagar [se] à meper ciascuna volta, che contravenissero, overo à miei heredi,& oltre di questo vogliono essere dichiarati, e tenuti perhuomini infami, e privi d'honore, ne possino ottenere, ne go-dere privilegio alcuno, come mancatori di fede, & parola. E per sede di ciò, che quel che è detto, e scritto, giurano co-me di sopra osservare di sua propria mano ciascuno si sotto-scriverà, & questo faccio accio non mi sia rubbato il secretoà me con sette figliuoli, che mi truovo, & insieme l'utile,che col tempo mi può apportare, & altri giuramenti comeal mio libro scritto à mano appare. Terzo, & ultimo, che dopo le sudette sottoscrittioni misia dato il premio, che a ciascheduno Signor parer à di meri-to à mostrar li questo nobilissimo secreto, che quanto meglio faranno tanto meglio, & in più maniere gli mostrarò di leva-re la spada di mano con i termini, e scienza del schermire,come 7 come ho detto, che sempre sia laudato Iddio per infinita se-cula seculorum Amen, il qual prego che mi dia buon prin-cipio, miglior mezzo, et ottimo fine. Io Lelio de' Tedeschi, et già figliuolo di M. Vincen-zo de' Tedeschi scrisse, &c. Sottoscritioni di tutti li Eccellenti Mastridi Scrima di Bologna. Io Achile Marozzi Mastro di Scrima dico essere laverità, che il levare l'arme di mano all'inimico, come dicela presente scrittura è cosa di gran valore, e non fatta maida persona alcuna. Io Gio Paolo Zagarini confesso, che quando il secreto dilevare la spada all' inimico venghi effettuato come nella pre-sente scrittura si contiene, la reputo la più bella inventione,che trovar si possi, et à meritevole di gran premio per nonessersi mai trovata tal virtù, ne usata, ne udita, etc. Io Bernardino Serenari Mastro di Scrima anch'io con-fesso quanto si contiene nella sottoscrittione del sudetto Sig.Gio Paolo Zagarini, et affermo essare la verità, etc. Io Gio Battista Malaspina Mastro di Scrima affermosi come gli soprascritti Maestri hanno detto nelle loro sot-toscrittioni. Io Gratioso Bolzani Mastro di Scrima affermo quantodice gli sopradetti Mastri, &c. Io Girolamo Vighi da Reggio Mastro di Regole, etragion di spada, et al presente in Bologna, dico, che quandosia 8 sia vero, che'l sopradetto, et nel sopradetto modo levi la spada al nemico, che ha secreto, che mai ho veduto, ne udito, etè degno di esser bramato, et premiato da ogni Cavalliere. Finisce le sottoscrittioni di tutti li Mastri di Scrima,che dall' anno 1602 si truovarono in Bologna, quali tuttihanno riconosciuto la lor scrittura, et insieme giurato esservero ciò che hanno detto, et il tutto rogato per M. StefanoFontana Notaro di Monsig Illustriss Viceleg di Bolognasotto il d'i 19. Maggio, che per brevità si tralasciano, &c. Sottoscrittione dell Illust. Sig Carlo Serafino, qual fu ilprimo, che diede principio alla sudetta virtù con li giuramen-ti, & modi, che leggendo s'intenderà, et al medesimo si sonolegati cia scheduno Signore, che da me hanno imparato, cioè. Io Carlo Serafini havendo letto tutta la sporadetta scrittura e desiderando imparare il sudetto modo di levar laspada all'inimico giuro, & mi obligo con la mano toccandola scrittura quanto nel secondo capitolo si contiene osserva-re, qual comincia, chi imparar à da me, renunciando ad ogniprivilegio, & gratia, che contra di ciò potesse ottenere, &sia per qual si voglia causa, non voglio esser degno di scusaalcuna, & infede ho fatto la presente di propria mano, &c. Io Carlo Serafino havendo in effetto provato quantonella presente scrittura si contiene confesso esser la verità,& dico che il sudetto M Lelio ha effettuato quanto nellapresente scrittura si contiene, & ha il vero modo, in quan-to à me di levar la spada di mano, & come ho detto lo giuro,& sopra l'honor mio lo confermo. L'ill- 9 L'Illustriss. S. Conte Alessandro Pepoli Bolognese. Io Alessandro Pepoli havendo letto la presente scrittu-ra & con la mano toccando giuro, & mi obligo à quanto èobligator il Sig Carlo Serafino di dover osservare. Io Alessandro Pepoli havendo in effetto provato il su-detto M. Lelio quanto nella presente scrittura si contieneconfesso essere la verità, che ha il vero modo di levar la spa-da di mano, & con la mano toccando la scrittura lo giuro,& sopra l'honor mio lo confermo

HERE are scans of the 1620 edition created by Giovanni Francesco Tedeschi. We’re still working on getting scans of the original (1605), and as soon as we have them we will transcribe and translate them for everyone.

Journal du voyage du Michel de Montaigne en Italie par la Suisse et l'Allemagne en 1580 et 1581

Il Cavalier Compito: Nel quale si discorre d'ogni scienza, di ragion di Stato, di Medicina, di Metheora, di dubbi Caualiereschi, e del modo nouo d'imparar à schermir con spada bianca, e difendersi senz'armi

Scans of the 1605 courtesy of Aaron Miedma:

Works Cited:

1. Giovanni Francesco, Lelio. Raccolta delle fedi d’alcuni principi et signori italiani. Che hanno conosciuto... il segreto di Lelio de’Tedeschi,... inventore del vero... modo di levar... o dal parare la spada di mano all’inimico... (2016). Gallica. LINK.

2. Alessandri, Torquato d'. Il Cavalier Compito: Nel quale si discorre d'ogni scienza, di ragion di Stato, di Medicina, di Metheora, di dubbi Caualiereschi, e del modo nouo d'imparar à schermir con spada bianca, e difendersi senz'armi. Italy, Discepolo, 1609.

3. Montaigne, Michel de, and Meusnier de Querlon, Anne-Gabriel. Journal du voyage de Michel de Montaigne en Italie: par la Suisse & l'Allemagne en 1580 & 1581. Italy, Chez Le Jay, 1774.

4. Tedeschi, Luis Orlindo. History of the Tedeschi Surname. Luis Orlindo Tedeschi’s Website. (n.d.). https://www.nutritionmodels.com/tedeschi/family.html. Web.

5. TEDESCHI Significato Origine Cognome Famiglia | Gens. http://www.gens.info/italia/it/turismo-viaggi-e-tradizioni-italia?t=cognomi-fis&cognome=tedeschi&x=27&y=7. Accessed 31 Jul. 2025.

6. Wikipedia Contributors (2025) Theodiscus, Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation.

7. AVVISO FROM VENICE. Having read letters from Rome, Bartoli R. Transcription by Rosen, Mark. Collection, Mediceo del Principato. Volume 380. 207v-208r. 29 November 1567. https://mia.medici.org/Mia/index.html#/mia/document-entity/21689. Digital. Accessed, 1 August 2025.

8. Benzoni, Gino. ERCOLE II d'Este; Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani - Volume 43 (1993). Treccani.it. https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/ercole-ii-d-este_(Dizionario-Biografico)/. Web.

9. Vizzani, Pompeo. Historie di Bologna: I due ultimi libri delle historie della sua patria, Volume 2. Italy, Rossi, 1608. pg. 68. Web.

10. Guidicini, Giuseppe. Cose notabili della città di Bologna: ossia Storia cronologica de' suoi stabili. Italy, Tip. di G. Vitali, 1869. Digital.

11. López-Guadalupe Pallarés, Miguel José. Redes Y Estrategias de Ascenso En La Monarquía Hispánica. La Familia Malvezzi Y El Colegio de España En Bolonia (Siglos XV-XVI). 1st ed, Dykinson, S.L., 2023.

12. Brunelli, Giampiero. LIGNANI, Vincenzo; Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani - Volume 65 (2005). Treccani.it. https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/vincenzo-lignani_(Dizionario-Biografico)/. Web.

5

Guidicini,

1675, 30 agosto. Fu venduta dal senatore Rainiero Marescotti, per L. 8000, alla ditta Pietro Cattani e Biagio Fantelli. Rogito Scipione Uccelli. Restò solo proprietario il Fantetli, famiglia cominciata e finita nel suddetto Biagio detto Dentone per aver due denti fuori delle labbra. Questo Fantelli fu uno dei banchieri più accreditati de’ suoi giorni. Maritò egli l’unica figlia ed erede Teresa, morta poi li 7 ottobre 1709, al conte Giuseppe Todeschi, o Tedeschi, oriundo di Massa Lombarda, i cui discendenti terminarono in Bartolomeo di Giacomo morto li 11 giugno 1791, che lasciò usufruttuaria la sorella contessa Francesca in Vincenzo d Antonio Guidotti, morta li 21 agosto 1798, ed eredi i Tedeschi di Ferrara, coll’ingiunzione di stabilirsi in Bologna. Nel 1787 fu cominciata la fabbrica della facciata levando le colonne di legno dal portico, e sostituendogli pilastri di pietra.

8

Vizzani is a good chronicler for this time period as his life was concurrent to the events, and he was himself a member of the Cavaliere della Viola.

Raised, “Morto il padre già nel 1541, fu affidato alle cure della madre, e si avviò agli studi delle lingue classiche e di quelle moderne (spagnolo e francese), delle scienze matematiche, della cosmografia e della filosofia morale, senza trascurare gli esercizi ginnici, la scherma e l’equitazione, in funzione di una formazione degna di un gentiluomo.”

According to Sokol Books LTD, Vizzani took that youthful enterprise into the Knights of Viola’s recreation movement, “This was the second and last tournament organized by the Accademia della Viola, initially founded in 1561 as the Academy dei Desti, by Ettore Ghisileri, Legnani Vincent and others, with the intention of reviving the ancient traditions of the knightly orders of Europe. The present account was compiled by Pompeo Vizani (1540-1607), also a member of the Academy of Viola, who signed the work under the pseudonym Antenor Garisendi. Vizani, a descendant of an important aristocratic Bolognese family, also helped organize the spectacle. At the end of the volume he recalls, not without some pride, that.” LINK

Prudence, Celerity, Fortitude, Audacity.

Those are the four principle virtues purported by the Friulian fencing master Fiore dei Liberi, in his Flower of Battle or Flos Duellatorum.

He declares, “the four animals signify {the} four virtues, that is prudence, celerity, fortitude, and audacity. And whoever wants to be good in this art should have part in these virtues.” (Fiore; Chidester, Wiktenauer)

Prudence/Wisdom

No creature sees better than me, the Lynx.
And I always set things in order with compass and measure.

Celerity/Speed

I, the tiger, am so swift to run and to wheel
That even the bolt from the sky cannot overtake me.

Audacity/Daring

None carries a bolder heart than me, the lion,
But to everyone I make an invitation to battle.

Fortitude/Strength

I am the elephant and I carry a castle as cargo,
And I do not kneel nor lose my footing.

Medieval and Renaissance Sword fighting manuals are full of allusions to virtue, be they personal or martial, thus its worth examining the origins of virtue to define what they are, and explore the contextual framework from which they came, so we can better understand how they relate to fencing and see how they complement a greater martial ethic.

In the modern secular world, the principles of virtue have—to a degree—lost their relevance and luster, they’re often relegated to religious practice or seen as a relic of classical ‘westernism’. Some of the virtues we’ll cover in this article have even come to take on negative connotations—like audacity and prudence—so it’s fairly reasonable to presume that the lessons of the virtues embedded in historical texts can be or are often overlooked or misunderstood. Alas, they’re important—they in-and-of themselves carry significant contextual information which can illuminate the strategic vision of a given fencing author and deserve to be studied.

Unfortunately, the challenge of relating the concept of the moral or ethical virtues to the practice of fencing is that they are in essence cooperative standards, and fencing by its nature is an individualistic expression of art. That is, the individual standards of virtue are designed to ground and better the individual for the benefit of the whole society. So, how can this sense of self-improvement and self-regulation co-mingle with the ideas of self-preservation? While many of the authors covered in this article will argue effectively in the affirmative, one author in particular, the anonymous author of MSS Ravenna M-345 and 346, will argue for a different approach—taking a more classical or even Machiavellian view.

This trend toward cooperation, is further exacerbated by the great Theologians of the first millennia. As such, it's possible that many of our contextual renderings of the martial virtues have been misconstrued or miscalculated due to an over reliance on the theological philosophers, when the real focus should be on their secular counterparts. To thoroughly examine this claim, we’ll review a few of the writings of those secular authors from the 14th and 16th centuries, and see how their concepts of virtues stack up against their theological and martial counterparts.

The objective of this article is to explore virtue from its origins to its contemporary expression in the age of the fencing authors and construct a vehicle for virtuous understanding that can benefit the development of the modern martial arts practitioner. An analysis that may challenge your fundamental understanding of what a virtue is and provide insight for future translations and interpretations.

The Origin of Western Virtue:

According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, virtue is associated with aretḗ in Greek (ἀρετή), which is a derivative noun of Ares (the Greek god of war) and etymologically builds its roots from aristos and aner, meaning—essentially—best and man, sometimes derived as manliness or andreia—we can reimagine this as a complete person.1

Alternatively, the venerable PhD Classicist David Stifler notes that this is incorrect, that, “ἀρετή comes from the Proto-Indo-European root *h₂reh₁-, which meant something like "to think, to reason, to arrange" and is found in other Greek words such as ἀραρίσκω, meaning "to join, to fasten, to equip, to fit, to make pleasing, to make suitable," etc. and ἀρέσκω, which means "to satisfy, to please, to make amends" etc.” He continues, “What's perhaps even more interesting is that the same PIE root h₂reh₁- also lies behind the Latin verb reor, "to think, to deem," from which is derived the noun ratio — which (…) means "reasoning, plan, view, advice, doctrine" etc.”

Doctor Stifler’s etymological analysis fits better with the classical expression of virtue, as we’re about to see. Notably the etymological root reor and it’s derivative ratio.

The four cardinal virtues; or chief categories of virtue, were first recorded by Plato in his Republic, sometime between 370-380 BC.2 They are Prudence (φρόνησις), Justice (δικαιοσύνη), Courage (ἀνδρεία) and Temperance (σωφροσύνη). To Plato, these were principles that were indicative of the health of a polis, and were often exemplified by certain classes within the community, e.g. wisdom unto the rulers, courage unto the soldiers, moderation for all; so they may agree on proper governance, and justice which he rendered as, “doing one’s own work, and not meddling with what is not one’s own.” (McLeer)

Moreover, just as the divisions of virtue enrich the polis, so too are they manifest within the soul. That is, in order to achieve ones highest existence one must cultivate a balance of all four virtues within themselves.

These cardinal virtues would be further expounded upon and expanded by Aristotle in his, Nicomachean Ethics, sometime between 335-322 BC, and brought within a more moral and individualistic framework.

Aristotle postulated that knowledge of the virtues was attained by observing virtuous exemplars and through experience. They were essential traits for a person to achieve Eudaimonia (εὐδαιμονία) or self-fulfillment and happiness. To Aristotle, the virtues were a characteristic mean flanked by vices of extreme—this is known as his golden ratio. For example, the deficiency of courage is cowardice, and the excess of courage is recklessness, therefore a positive expression of courage rests between these two vices. If one were to charge headlong into a phalanx alone—that would be reckless, if one were to avoid battle at the risk of the wellbeing of their peers or community then that would be cowardice, but courage would be standing shoulder to shoulder with their fellow hoplites and facing danger head-on even at the cost of ones life.

Aristotle lists 12 key virtues, they are: temperance, courage, magnificence, magnanimity, justice, friendliness, truthfulness, wittiness, prudence, modesty, and shame.

In Aristotelian ethical philosophy the pursuit of eudaimonia is a lifelong journey of self-improvement. The Virtues were guideposts to strive for, and through rationality; an exercise of the golden mean, and experience these inexplicable formative standards would come to be realized.

Wisdom of Solomon 8:7

7 And if anyone loves righteousness, her labors are virtues; for she teaches self-control and prudence, justice and courage; nothing in life is more profitable for mortals than these.

The Cardinal Virtues would appear in the Abrahamic tradition—together—in the first century BC in the Wisdom of Solomon; a part of the Septuagint and would later be adopted by the early Christian Church as the seven virtues and vices by the 4th Century Theologian, Ambrose.3

In the Christian tradition the heavenly virtues are charity, temperance, chastity, diligence, patience, and kindness. The vices contemptuous to or deficient of these virtues are pride, greed, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth.

In the 13th Century, St. Thomas Aquinas argued that a good life hinged upon the four cardinal virtues—prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude—and that these critical traits were ensconced in the Godly virtues of faith, hope and love. Aquinas derived these standards from the reflections of St. Augustine, Boethius, and Anselm, and merged Aristotle's Eudaimonia with the contemporary ecclesiastical reflections.4

Of course, through the 12th century these virtues were also adopted-into and coalesced-with the moral exemplars of the Arthurian and Carolingian epics and co-opted into the temporal landscape of knightly or martial virtues: courage, justice, mercy, generosity, nobility, hope, and humility; among others. For example, the five virtues that Gawain was challenged to embody were: fellowship, purity, courtesy, pity, and franchise,5 while those portrayed by Roland in the wildly influential epic, the Song of Roland, were: valor, loyalty, piety, self-sacrifice, and a strong sense of duty to his lord and faith.

The necessity of these epics among the emerging class of chevalerie was—in large part—due to the fact that the martial reality of the emerging Medieval world often came into conflict with the ecclesiastical reimagining of the pagan philosophers and canonical ethic. It was at this inevitable crossroads that the Germanic and Celtic lore provided a certain je ne sais quoi for the virtue ethic of the warrior class. While the Celtic legend of Arthur was retroactively imbued with the theological guidelines of the Christian faith, much like Beowulf, it's incorporation as such was—in a sense—a compromise between the extant pagan warrior ethic and the moral standards of the emerging Christian world. A notion made further evident in the Carolingian Epic, the Song of Roland, which—while deeply Christian in it’s conception and composition—struggles to shed it's themes of Germanic paganism. It was through the commingling of these worlds that the ideals of Chivalry were born.

This history, while brief, stands to highlight a core tenant of this article, the difficulty of separating the pagan (Roman, Greek, Celtic, and Germanic) from the Christian forms of virtue—especially martial virtue. While the contemporary theological expressions of virtue were inspired by their pagan ancestors, it was the theologians who were more equipped to promulgate a virtuous standard and as such tipped the scale. Alas, the reality of the post-Roman world, and the amalgamation of Christian, Roman, Celtic and Germanic cultures required some sense of compromise to construct a functional polis. Thus, we can view a slight diversion between the moral mean of the serf, citizen, nobility (in some areas) and clergy, and their dedicated martial peers.

Defining the Virtues:

While Aristotle alludes to the fact that the virtues are undefinable, as they are relational and best learned through practice and observation, it will aid our discussion of the virtues of fencing if we have some sense of what they are. To do this, let’s examine the four most common virtues (For a full list of virtues by author see, Appendix: list of virtues by author). They are {unsurprisingly} Prudence, Celerity, Fortitude and Audacity. Note, that the challenge of defining a virtue, is that their meaning has a tendency to change over time, so it’s best to create or derive a definition that is local to the authors virtuous epoch. Yet, even this approach is imperfect, as experience—the mother of all wisdom (to quote Manciolino), allows for a high degree of emphasis and deviation.

Fortitude:

This is the moral virtue of courage. However, there is a fair amount of depth embedded in the Latin root fortitudo. Thus, in order to create a workable definition, we’ll have to examine both the spiritual and temporal expressions of Fortitude and explore how they were understood and where they differ.

Plato defines fortitude as, “the principle of not fleeing danger, but meeting it.”

In Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Book I, Chapter 9, he states, “Courage is the virtue that disposes man to do noble deeds in situations of danger, in accordance with the law and in obedience to its commands.” In Nicomachean Ethics he states, “Hence someone is called {fortuitous} if he is intrepid in facing a fine death and the immediate dangers that bring death.” (Eth. Nic., III, 6; Irwin)

Aristotle argues for a number of different characteristics of courage predicated on the type of fear present and the response’s relation to the mean of fortitude. Aquinas takes these and gives four key divisions; Audacia (Audacity) and Timor (Fear), Agreddi (Attack) and Sustinere (Sustain/Endure), and concludes, principalior actus fortitudinis est sustinere, immobiliter sistere in periculis, quam aggredi (The more important act of fortitude is to endure, to stand immobile in dangers, than to attack). (Rickaby; pg. 3)6

His reason for this conclusion is, “the act of endurance rests only with the reason per se.” (Rickaby; pg. 3) This justification is in part a descent of Aristotle's supposition that anger can be used as a tool in the virtue of fortitude, speaking of the battle rage which Aristotle believed could be harnessed and wielded for the greater good; what Aquinas terms the irascible passion. Notably, something the Roman thinker Seneca also takes exception to, relating that sense of audacia implied here to the vice of recklessness.

There is an important distinction drawn by Aquinas in his observation of the tangential manifestations of Fortitude that bears some further examination—that is, agreddi and sustinere. To attack and defend. To further understand this, we should first examine the thoughts of our first secular thinker.

The best example of a temporal scholar contemporary to Fiore’s time is Giovanni di Legnano, a professor at the Università di Bologna who was a renowned lawyer and jurist in the late 14th century. Legnano’s works like, Tractatus de bello, de represaliis et de duello (d. 1383), we're so widely known that he was mentioned in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. In Tracatus de Bello he states:

Here we have a insightful delineation between the moral and physical expressions of fortitude, as they relate to the conduct of warfare. The fortezza or strength of body to endure and withstand the risks and rigors of combat, and the moral courage to forfeit ones own life in the pursuit of a noble cause. Legnano argues that the virtù of fortitude as it relates to war should not be conflated with the moral virtue of fortitude, because a strict adherence to the mean between fearfulness and audacity is a detriment when faced with the complexity of the conduct of war. Aristotle, in concert with this acknowledges that professional soldiers (ie. mercenaries) are inclined to this ambiguous nature, and that it is the local militias who are more attuned to the necessity of fortitude’s virtuous mean on account of their role in protecting the homeland.7

Philippe Contamine, in his seminal work, La guerre au Moyen Age, argues that contemporarily it was understood that the ‘physical’ acts as a wellspring for the ‘moral’, stating, “Among the 4 cardinal virtues inherited from Antiquity, force (fortitudo) covers the notion of courage. Force gives both fearlessness and bravery in war.”

This is an interesting observation that aligns nicely with Legnano and Aristotle, but draws some contention with the Saints of the Holy Mother Church. While they agree on the notion that Fortitude is the the ability to endure hardship and physically overcome the risks of death, it’s in the proper conduct born from the potentiality of fortitude where they differ. Contamine, Aristotle and Legnano seem to believe that fortitude allows one to be bold, audacious, and brave, but also to regress to the mean of the virtue—with temperance and prudence—when necessary. Where Aquinas believed that, “fortitude is about fear and daring, as curbing fear and moderating daring.” (Aquinas; Question 123; Article 3)

This is where Aquinas’s observation that there is a modal reality to fortitude—agreddi and sustinere; attacking and defending—could lend some insight into the inclusion of the virtuous extreme of audacia (boldness) as a martial virtue in concert with the moral and physical mean of fortitude. In that, fortitude is about holding ground, and enduring or sustaining—defending—rather than taking risk.

One could argue that this is precisely what Fiore dei Liberi was illustrating with his segno, where fortitude is attributed to the lower half of his idealized fencer, as it's the foundation or the root bed from which courage, strength and endurance of both body and soul will emerge. He attributes both fortitudo and fortezza to the symbol of the elephant, and says, “I am the elephant and I carry a castle as cargo, And I do not kneel nor lose my footing.” (Chidester; Wiktenauer) The inability or refusal to kneel or bend a knee is moral courage, and the strength to not lose ones footing aligns with the physical strength and endurance attributed to the temporal expressions of fortitude. It also implies not giving ground—Sustinere.

Building upon this notion, Antonio Manciolino also identifies fortezza and fortissimo as key attributes of a fencer at mezza spada8, and embeds their more tempered expressions in his, Gravi and Appostati.

As Tom Leoni notes, in his Complete Renaissance Swordsman, “Grave means, in this case, composed in his control and mature in his actions. Appostato means consciously observing the right posture and tempo.” More adroitly, Doctor Stifler highlights the etymology of Appostare’s military root, which is a post or a station9, and derives a contextual meaning of “serious and on point.” Which lends further credence to this supposition of sustinere.

Viggiani, expounds upon this notion in his book one dialogue between the philosopher Boccadiferro and the soldier Rodomonte. When attributing the virtues of a fencer to parts of the body Boccadiferro states, “Finally, the foot stands for self-control, balance, and good timing. If the foot is controlled by anger and moves without thinking, without measure or restraint, then it would act like a venomous snake or a lion. A smart enemy could easily take advantage and defeat someone like that.” (Viggiani; Book I, Fratus)

Notice the moral mean of fortitude in both Manciolino’s maturity and composure and Viggiani’s control and restraint, as well as their focus on the physical necessity of balance and posture. Viggiani explicitly derides the virtuous extreme of audacity—(i)f the foot is controlled by anger and moves without thinking, without measure or restraint—a trait he attributes to the characteristic ‘boldness’ of a lion.

This is not to say this fortuitous approach can be done without courage—to the contrary, Boccadiferro continues:

Here we have the necessity of physical and moral fortitude in harmony with traits characteristic of the other virtues. It is both strong (fortezza) and enduring (sustinere), but also courageous in the face of danger, neither fearful nor audacious, but inclined to the mean through temperance and good judgement. It's the foundation of a well composed fencer. Through its exercise a fortuitous fencer will neither be inclined to flee nor bend the knee, but to stand resolute and strong—courageous in the face of death and whatever ills are imposed upon them.

Audacity:

(F)rom Medieval Latin audacitas, from Latin audax (“bold”), from audeō (“I am bold, I dare”).

—Etymology of Audacity; Wiktionary

If fortitude is the mean and the standard of courageous virtue, then how can we rectify another expression of courage, especially it's extreme—audacity or boldness?

The dichotomous distinction of Audacia that is common in modern nomenclature is inherently Roman. Cicero, who laid the foundation for much of the rhetorical and legal framing constructed during the 12th-16th century, saw Audacia as both a vice and a virtue, dividing it’s qualities between the vice of impudence—often characterized as a criminal or atrocious quality—and that of the battlefield, relating audacia to courage, boldness or valor.10 Seneca the younger, in his Epistulae Morales, associates audacia to the vice of recklessness, but similar to Cicero, denotes that audacia is a corporal virtue, stating, “Does not boldness (audacia) drive us ahead? Bravery (fortitudo) spur us on, and give us momentum?”11

So what is this contentious wellspring of courage, boldness and valor that drives us ahead, and yet—in the wrong setting—can be impudent and reckless? It’s the irascible passion that Aquinas derides, what Aristotle terms Thymos (θυμός), or a spiritedness, which he determines is, “an agency to be used by the rational will within due limits.” (Rickaby, pg. 3)

The contentious political theorist, Niccolò Machiavelli, postulated his own set of martial and stately virtues, notably, “pride, bravery, skill, forcefulness, and an ability to harness ruthlessness when necessary.” (Virtú; Wikipedia) To the keen observer, the lack of justice, prudence, and temperance will stand out, especially in regards to the conduct of the state. The virtue of prudence, which we will discuss later in this article, was of particular interest to Machiavelli. He believed that prudence was lashed to the mean of morality, thus inhibiting the effective rule of a prospective prince. Instead, he postulated that the virtue should be enriched with a spiritedness, he called animo—which, as Mansfield notes, is Aristotle’s thymos.

Because Machiavelli specifically targets prudence as the governor of temperament, we can effectively see it as the same quality as the martial virtue of Audacity. It's an extreme position, beyond the rational limits of Aristotle, and in direct contention with the disparity of irascible passion purported by Aquinas. The question we have to answer is, why? And is this of any relevance?

As a theorist and generally sub-par historian, Machiavelli observed that it was an overabundance of cautiousness and a lack of killer-instinct that generally inhibited the effective rule of a prince. Furthermore, it was an acute deficiency of animo that made the Condottiere of the early to mid-15th century ineffective and listless on the battlefield. His prescribed virtú were an attempt to correct this course. This is precisely where the theologians, and philosophers come into contention with the reality of martial necessity. Where the need for Germanic and Celtic pagan ideals of boldness came to rule the warrior ethic of Chivalry, as the pagans—especially the northern pagan traditions—lauded audacity or boldness {the extremes of courage} as an essential trait of a well-adjusted man within their tribe; their warrior class. It was necessary for the function of ‘their’ polis.

So how does this animo translate to fencing?

This exposition on the arts true recourse would probably make Saint Thomas Aquinas blush, but our friends Aristotle and Machiavelli would see it a bit differently. Many a master has wrestled with the notion of the irascible passion—the battle rage that inspires acts of great heroism—and tried to harness its utility through an application of virtue. In the anonymous author’s prologue we see it outlined beautifully. The absolute necessity of virtuous undertaking to enliven the skill and excellence of a martial practitioner, bookended with the harsh reality of its ultimate execution—the irascible passion in harmony with virtue.

While the anonymous author is quite direct in the allusion of dominance—Every slightest motion you make must exude a craving for delivering cruel blows; when you approach the opponent with such fierceness, you will completely wipe out his self-possession—he’s not alone. According to Jess Finley, the KdF tradition is full of hunting analogies, even the word leger; used for the four principle guards of the tradition, means lair, and was co-opted as a type of hunt in which one would drive an animal from its den—denoting an offensive bias of those guard positions. Similarly, the verb cacciare used by Marozzo to describe his seminal thrust in many of his abatimenti and combattare, means to drive out, to hunt, or to chase. This neatly coincides with the notion that the refinement of martial practice was not performed in the salle alone, but in the hunt—the act of driving fauna into the inescapable clutches of death.

It’s worth restating, that this is not to say that the extreme of the animo/thymos/audacia should rule a martial practitioner alone, or act as an underlying motivation as Machiavelli prescribes. As Giovanni Legnano noted, “Audacity, however, differs from fear ; for audacity is a feeling of the irascible appetite, inclining us to attack what is terrible…But either may be a good or a bad act.” Plato addresses this concern and the proper role and demeanor of a soldier in the Republic, as Boccadiferro notes in dialogue with Rodomonte, in book one of Viggiani’s, lo Schermo:

BOC: Plato explained this well in his book The Republic. He said that a true soldier needs three things: anger to fight the enemy; gentleness for friends and fellow soldiers; and philosophy, that is widsom, to tell the difference between right and wrong, friend and enemy, and what helps or harms.

He even compared a good soldier to a smart dog. A good dog is gentle with its family and friends, but fierce with strangers. It knows who belongs and who doesn’t. This is true even if it has never been hurt by a stranger or helped by a family member. It just knows, by nature and instinct—and that’s the kind of balance a soldier should have too.

RODO: So now, as a joke, you want to compare a great captain to a dog. That might be fine in another setting, but here it is insulting – it seems like you are deliberately insulting the captain.

BOC: Not at all. This idea actually comes from the great philosopher Plato. And it shouldn’t seem strange, because many human strengths and weaknesses can be compared to animals. And the word “dog” shouldn’t be seen as an insult. Among all the irrational animals that can’t speak, the dog is one of the few that is suitable for training and that also possesses discipline.

RODO: But it sounds to me like Your Excellency is contradicting yourself. Earlier you said a soldier shouldn’t act out of anger. Now you’re quoting Plato, who says a good warrior should have anger.

BOC: I don’t think I’ve contradicted myself, my lord. Having anger doesn’t mean being wild or out of control. Plato meant a kind of strong spirit or courage, not a blind rage. Anger should be balanced and stay within reason. When he speaks of “anger, gentleness, and philosophy” we should understand heart, wisdom and a controlled anger. That matches the hand, eye, and foot we talked about earlier.

This is the thymos governed rationally. To the anonymous author the vices of audacity are humility, caring displays, mercy, niceties, inanity or laziness, which stand to undermine the martial virtues of courage (Fortitudo), cunning (Prudence), strength (Fortezza) and skill (Celerity). The reason he lists these qualities, is he believes these are the origins of fear and anxiety, the antithesis of Audacity, which is bold and fearless.

“None carries a bolder heart than me, the lion,

But to everyone I make an invitation to battle.”

— (Fiore; Chidester, Wiktenauer)

Now, how do we put this together? How do we utilize the virtues to corral and rule the spiritedness of a bold and audacious heart? Where do we find the rationality to tame the animo?

This spiritedness finds it’s wellspring in the form of physical and moral fortitude, as illustrated by Contamine, “Force gives both fearlessness and bravery in war.” Fearlessness being the defining characteristic of boldness; which is, “fearless{ness} before danger” according to Websters Dictionary. We can see an analogous expression in the Davidic ethic as well, Proverbs 28:1 says, "The wicked flee when no one pursues, but the righteous are as bold as lions"—a statement that reads like Plato’s definition of fortitude imbued with the emblematic boldness of audacity.

This draws an interesting correlation between the ‘grounded’ fortitude at the base, and the audacity or boldness to go forward and attack with the hands; the positional qualities illustrated in Fiore’s segno of the seven swords. Greg Mele asserts that the elemental perception of the Medieval mind is paramount to the polar placement of Fiore's virtues. That is, fortitude is given unto the earth and is the bedrock and strength of the Vitruvian figure, the virtue of celerity is on the right denoting water; like the speed of a rushing river (pour one out for Muzio), prudence is above—denoting air—akin to the ethereal wisdom of the eternal soul, and audacia is placed on the left, which denotes the fire and passion of the heart, and an inescapable association with the holy land.

Symbolically, the elephant with the castle upon its back was also a symbol of the holy land—more specifically for crusaders and pilgrims traveling to Jerusalem—often depicted in crusader maps or representing the Jewish diaspora living in Italy, and perhaps stands to reason that the symbolic representation of fortitude is the path or source of the boldness which comes from the heart—that is a passion born from and measured by the tempered mean of courage. Following this line of progression, it’s symbolic representation as a lion, has meaning beyond the characteristic boldness, courage or bravery we often associate with the animal. The lion was the symbol of the Tribe of Judah, and Christ himself is deemed the Lion of Judah in the book of Revelation12, fulfilling the prophecy of Jacob in the book of Genesis.13 Thus the lion is the holy land, and the elephant the means with which to get there.

To expound upon this further and relate the virtue to the body and fencing specifically, Viggiani determines that the nature of a person's heart is made evident by how they use their hands:

Without—God forbid—wading too far into the mire of George Silver’s true times, the tempo of the hand is faster than the feet. Thus the the hands have a greater opportunity to take risk, be bold, and recover than an overcommitment of the feet. Audacity is best served as a ferocious swipe of a lions paw, or the sudden lash of a coiled viper. This is our agreddi. Yet, even these zoomorphic exemplars—when observed in nature—are heavily rooted a in coiled base or a powerful well grounded body. Our sustinere.

We could define this union of fortitude and audacity; sustinere and agreddi, as valor.

Valor. A word that Marriam-Webster defines as, “Middle English valour "worth, worthiness, bravery," borrowed from Anglo-French valor, valur, inherited or borrowed from early Medieval Latin valor, from Latin val- (stem of validus "in good health, robust, having legal authority," valēre "to be well, have strength(.)” It’s a word that also shares the same PIE root "*wal-" with the word wield; as in to wield a blade, and means to be strong, to govern.14 Perhaps it's symbolic that the natural disposition of untrained person with a sword is to attack recklessly or violently (aggredi/audacia) like a peasant or a villano, but the art of fencing—the schermo—is rationally conveyed as defense (sustinere/fortitude) and calculated methodical forms of attack.

Other sources define Valor as, “boldness or determination in facing great danger, especially in battle; heroic courage; bravery..” It’s a word that encompasses it’s etymological ancestor of strength (fortezza), and the virtuous expressions of courage (fortitudo) and boldness (audacia). A satisfaction of ἀραρίσκω/ararískō, to join, to fasten, to equip, to fit, to make pleasing, to make suitable. Thus it is the prudence of the mind and the courage—resolute defense—of our feet, that allows us to act with the irascable passion and animo of the heart.

Prudence:

In a modern context prudence, is often misconstrued as meekness, narrow mindedness or being risk averse. These are mischaracterizations aligned more with the extreme than the mean of prudence—though Machiavelli would certainly approve of this assesment. C.S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, summarizes prudence simply as common sense or practical wisdom, deriding the notion that the virtue is tied to innocence when Christ himself compels his followers to be as shrewd as vipers.

In conjunction with this, Proverbs 22:3 states, “A prudent person foresees danger and takes precautions. The simpleton goes blindly on and suffers the consequences.” This notion of wisdom and awareness, being able to foresee rather than to proceed blindly, is evident in Giovanni dall’Agocchie’s proclamation that Prudence is the chief virtue of a soldier, and draws a nice comparison to our sustinere definition of fortitudo, and the unhinged recklessness of the animo or aggredi when not guided by prudentia or its fortuitous precursor:

The martial virtue of prudence is more than just wisdom, born from experience and knowledge, it’s an acuity—a sense of awareness—and an ability to see and foresee what your opponent plans to do. As Fiore says, in the Pisani Dossi, “No creature sees better than me, the Lynx. And I always set things in order with compass and measure.” (Fiore; Chidester, Wiktenauer) and the Latin, Morgan copy states, “Everything born under the sky will be discerned with [my] eyes; I, the lynx, I conquer [by] measurement whatever it pleases [me] to attempt.”

Prudence is often linked with the sense of sight or cognition; as in Fiore ‘no creature sees better than I the Lynx’, and the Psalms; ‘A prudent person foresees danger’, ‘the simpleton goes blindly’. Symbolically, the beastial myth of the Lynx was believed to have two magical powers: it’s urine could form solid amber (ligurius), and it had a sort-of x-ray vision and a sense of clairvoyance. That is, it could see the unseen, or look through an object to see what was underneath—often to reveal a hidden truth, as well as the power to look into the future.15 From a fencing perspective, that is similar to the characteristic of foresight imbued by the virtue of prudence, eg. when a fencer can see the guard or placement of their opponent and perceive what will happen next.

Setting aside the symbolic and mystical for a temporal perspective, sight is one of the two primary senses that informs fencing—the other being touch or feel. Following this narrative of acuity, Viggiani notes:

Alas, without experience and wisdom—that sense of foresight—and our virtues of audacity and fortitude, the eyes can be a weakness. For many of the authors the heart and the eyes work in tandem with one another and are inseparable:

• “(B)ecause my heart and my eyes are never focused anywhere other than upon taking away your dagger quickly and without delay.” (Fiore, 5th Master of the Dagger; Chidester, Wiktenauer)

• “Delivering attacks from the waist up causes more danger in the opponent than doing so from the waist down, since the eyes (and consequently the heart) of the not-so-brave are easily conquered by such flashes.” (Manciolino; Leoni, pg. 115)

The dangers that you see and perceive will test the courage of your heart. Thus, the eyes and the heart must be of one accord. Therefore, it is through our knowledge and wisdom that we can be bold and audacious under duress or in pursuit.

To further highlight the interconnectedness of the virtues, prudence is acquired through fortitude—by enduring the rigors of training, toil, and study. As the anonymous author details:

Knowledge, perception and experience are the roots from which Prudence grows, but the fertile soil in which it's sown must be enriched with the courage to endure and audacity to act on what you see and perceive, and it’s through this cycle of growth that a new virtue will emerge.

Celerity:

Celerity is speed, but speed is inherently the biproduct of two factors: skill and agility. As the anonymous author illustrated in the quote above, refinement through constance and perseverance breeds both attributes. Just as there were sub-virtues and sub-vices of the aforementioned martial virtues, we can assign similar extremes to Celerity, and define the mean. If skill and agility are the desired traits: the deficiency of agility could be clumsiness and the extreme could be avoidance; ie. continuous movement without progress toward an end, while the extreme of skill could be form without function and it's deficiency could simply be a deficiency of form.

Speed that lacks form is inherently useless, ie. performing sword actions as quickly as possible without the requisite skill to put the point or edge on target serves little purpose in the ultimate objective of a fencing bout. Similarly, an over emphasis on form can create a rigidity and lack of flow that renders one vulnerable or even slow. Agility or nimbleness, is also paramount; a lack of of agility, or clumsiness, leaves one vulnerable when they commit to a strike through over-extending or over-committing and an excessive emphasis on control can leave many opportunities to strike orphaned for the sake of that perfect opportunity or set-up.

The symbolic representation of the tiger in Fiore is quite interesting. According to the contemporary mythological representations of the tiger, the fearsome animal could be warded off with a mirror. Contextually, this could be a warning not to match the speed of an opponent that is beyond your skill and ability. While a fascinating alternative, suggested by Harry Hupman, is that the best way to beat speed and aggression is through deception, as the reflection of the tiger in the mirror will trigger the tigress’ deep maternal instinct—confusing it's reflection for a cub—which can buy you just enough time to get away, or land that fatal blow.

Among the Bolognese authors it should come as no surprise that the virtue of speed is embodied through tempo—time. The sub-virtue—skill—of which is knowing when and how to make contra, half and full tempo actions. This is born from experience and practice:

Skill, agility and deception are all qualities paramount to execution of celerity.

Conclusion:

The Virtues are meant to represent the pillars of ones practice, a foundation upon which you can build your ideal form. Prudence, fortitude, celerity, and audacity are almost universally discussed from the Medieval texts of Fiore dei Liberi to the later Bolognese authors like Giovanni dall’Agocchie.

The virtues must harmonize with one another. Fortitude, audacity, and celerity are listless with out the keen awareness of prudence. While prudence, celerity, and audacity must have their foundation in the enduring courage of fortitude. Similarly, one may be fortuitous, prudent and audacious, but find themselves overwhelmed if their skill and agility have not come to render celerity. And what are prudence, fortitude, and celerity without the boldness to act on what one sees, endures, or skillfully attains.

There is a cyclical nature to the relation of the virtues. A perpetual revolution of conduct and deficiency that illuminates the incomparable reality of success and avenues for self improvement in the danse macabre.

So, what are the virtues in the end? They are a roadmap to mastery. A mastery of mindset and person—beyond the plays, devices, and glosses of the various masters. A refinement of the ultimate weapon. You.

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Appendix:

List of Virtues by Author:

• Fiore dei Liberi:16

  • Prudence

  • Celerity

  • Fortitude

  • Audacity

• MS. 3227a:17

  • Braveness

  • Celerity

  • Cautiousness

  • Cunning

  • Prudence

• Paulus Kal:18

  • Eyes like a hawk

  • Heart of a Lion

  • Feet of a Hind (Deer)

• Filippo Vadi:19

  • Prudence

  • Providence/Foresight

  • Firmness

  • Quickness

  • Measure

• Antonio Manciolino:

  • Gravi

  • Apostati

  • Gracefulness

  • Quickness

  • Strength

  • Fortitude

• Anonimo Bolognese:

  • Courage

  • Cunning

  • Strength

  • Agility

  • Attention to Detail

  • Perseverance

  • Prudence

  • Knowledge

  • Judgement

• Angelo Viggiani:

  • Discipline

  • Courage

  • Knowledge

Giovanni Legnano:

• Tractatus de bello, de represaliis et de duello by Giovanni da Legnano I. U. D., professor of civil and canon law in the University of Bologna, edited by Thomas Erskine Holland

KdF Virtues:

• The virtues of fighting – The Liechtenauer manuscript GMN 3227a.

Works Cited:

1. McAleer, Sean. Plato's Republic: An Introduction. United Kingdom, Open Book Publishers, 2020.

2. Floyd, Shawn. Aquinas: Moral Philosophy | Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. (n.d.). https://iep.utm.edu/thomasaquinas-moral-philosophy/

3. The Five Knightly Virtues in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. (2020, Apr 13). Retrieved from https://papersowl.com/examples/the-five-knightly-virtues-in-sir-gawain-and-the-green-knight/

4. Contamine, Philippe. La guerra nel Medioevo. Italy, Il Mulino, 2014.

5. Irwin, Terence. Aristotle; Nicomachean Ethics, 2nd Edition. Hackett Publishing Co., Indianapolis, 1999. Print.

6. Mansfield, Harvey C.. Machiavelli's Virtue. Germany, University of Chicago Press, 1998.

7. Rickaby, John. "Fortitude." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol. 6. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1909. <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/06147a.htm>.

8. Kleinau, Jens P. Talhoffer, V. a. P. B. (2017, February 15). The virtues of fighting – The Liechtenauer manuscript GMN 3227a. Hans Talhoffer. https://talhoffer.wordpress.com/2011/07/12/the-virtues-of-fighting-the-liechtenauer-manuscript-gmn-3227a/

9. Paulus Kal ~ Wiktenauer, the world’s largest library of HEMA books and manuscripts ~ Insquequo omnes gratuiti fiant. (n.d.). https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Paulus_Kal

10. Fiore de’i Liberi ~ Wiktenauer, the world’s largest library of HEMA books and manuscripts ~ Insquequo omnes gratuiti fiant. (n.d.). https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Fiore_de%27i_Liberi

11. appostare - Wiktionary, the free dictionary. (n.d.). Wiktionary. https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/appostare

12. Wikipedia contributors. (2025, April 10). Virtù. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virt%C3%B9#:~:text=Virt%C3%B9%20is%20a%20concept%20theorized,came%20to%20mean%20an%20object

13. Wikipedia contributors. (2024, November 1). Lynx (mythology). Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynx_(mythology)

14. Hursthouse, Rosalind and Glen Pettigrove, "Virtue Ethics", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2023 Edition), Edward N. Zalta & Uri Nodelman (eds.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2023/entries/ethics-virtue/>.

15. Smith, J. Warren. Christian Grace and Pagan Virtue: The Theological Foundation of Ambrose's Ethics. United Kingdom, Oxford University Press, 2010.

16. Bragova, Arina. Caliniuc, S. (2018, December 19). Cicero on vices. Studia Antiqua Et Archaeologica. http://saa.uaic.ro/cicero-on-vices/

17. Seneca, Lucius Annaeus. Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales: With an English Translation. United Kingdom, W. Heinemann, 1917.

18. Sfetcu, Nicolae (2022). "Plato: The Republic", in Telework, DOI: 10.13140/RG.2.2.21273.90723, URL = https://www.telework.ro/en/plato-the-republic/

19. Lt. Col. Vineyard, James. Army University Press. (n.d.). Cardinal virtues as warrior virtues. https://www.armyupress.army.mil/Journals/Military-Review/Online-Exclusive/2025-OLE/Cardinal-Virtues/

We’ve just been down a long and winding logical deconstruction of Viggiani’s lo Schermo, and I think that this is probably a good time to take a step back and apply similar logic to the other authors in the Bolognese corpus. Everything we do in HEMA is interpretation—results of which vary considerably. So how do you come up with a good interpretation and how can you build a framework to judge other interpretations? Furthermore, how can we judge a source?

In Viggiani’s text he acknowledges his forebearers, and addresses the conundrum of infinitesimal potentiality and actualization, and reduces everything down to a perfect schermo. When I was writing that article, I discussed the subject matter in detail with my students, and one of them quipped, “it would be funny if you came out of your competitive HEMA retirement and did nothing but Viggiani’s perfect schermo.”

It's a silly thing to think about, but it's also an intriguing line of thought. How many people do you see doing nothing but Viggiani’s perfect schermo? It has every possible consideration you can imagine, so what's stopping someone from entering a tournament with the sole purpose of mastering Viggiani?

I think the argument you'd hear is: it's too limiting, or it's too basic—its not fun enough or its boring. I guess it's up to the reader.

That said, what is it that we look for in a source? The opposite argument is often leveled against a text like the Anonimo Bolognese: ie. it's too dense, there are too many plays, etc. So, how can a student of Bolognese fencing get to a place where they can truly appreciate either the complexity or the subtly of a source like the Anonimo or Viggiani respectively, and every author in-between? That's the goal of this article, and I believe the answer is buried in Viggiani’s logical digression.

Objective:

To start—I can't give you a perfect answer, but I can share my experience and you can do with it what you see fit. We all judge a source of information’s worth based on how close it brings us to achieving our own personal goals; be it a historical text, or some guy writing a blog post on Substack. Similarly, people view HEMA in number of different ways, some see HEMA as a venue for competitive excellence, some see it as a process of re-creation, some may just think swords are cool and as long as it gives them the requisite skill in that pursuit they're glad to take part—ie. how close does this bring them to fulfilling their dream of being either Aragon or Geralt of Rivia. The salty greybeards of HEMA will gladly tell you that parts of x, y or z are antithetical or heretical, and that's fine too; I have my own biases.

The purpose of this article is not to tell you that you're doing HEMA wrong, or to demonstrate some superior line of reasoning. Instead, I want to share with you how I approach HEMA—especially when it comes to interpretation—with the objective of affording you perspective, so you can filter it through the lens of what’s important to you, and utilize it as best suits your pursuit.

A bit about me. Longtime readers or listeners to the Art of Arms podcast know that I am a nerd. I value the historical context and the realization of the source material—the actualization—way more than I do competitive success. Despite this, I have been very successful in competition. It's important to point this out, because I'm going to argue for something that—to some—will ring as heterodox; two truths, but rests in the often misunderstood objective of Viggiani’s lo Schermo and Marozzo’s Opera Nova. Many of you will already share this perspective, but for others this may be the first time you’ve read something like this. So, regardless of your experience I ask that you just bear with me. My hope, is that I will present this argument to you in a way that will provide sustenance regardless of your existing mindset or experience.

Principle vs Technique:

In my little-less than a decade of experience teaching, practicing, and competing in HEMA I've found that there are two common approaches to the art: principle and technique. Simply defined we can reduce a principled approach down to seeking the why, and a technical approach down to seeking the how. A common scapegoat for those who pursue either in isolation is: for the technique oriented; because x or y master says so, and for the principled fencer; because it works.

Both of these conclusions lead to some variation of less than ideal fencing, or a self imposed plateau that limits a fencers ability to actualize their full potential. It's not that either argument is wrong, they are simply incomplete. Allow me to elaborate.

For the technical fencer there likely has been or will be a moment when you share a play or passage of text with someone, and that person will say, “yes but I wouldn't do that” or “yea, but I would do this”, challenging your interpretation and perhaps shaking your confidence in your understanding of what you're trying to convey. Similarly, for the purposeful fencer, you may draw the ire and scorn of a technical fencer who sees your fencing as a-historical, eg. “they’re just a sport fencer,” or “that isn't textual” or “that’s just sabre bro.”

While both of those arguments can be true, they lack nuance and perspective. They're too biased toward either extreme to seek truth or purpose. They're excuses. This leads either extreme to retreat into their proclivities, and further exaggerates the issue at hand. This often results in categorization and self-denial, ie. “he’s just a hand sniper” or “he's a pointy-boi” or “they never bind” or on the other side; “that person’s HEMA ratings suck” or “yea, but (s)he can’t do it in sparring,” [Insert your favorite gross generalization here].

This is not to deride the community writ large, any group that sees value in something will seek to preserve it. Thus, a fencer’s goal, their pursuit of excellence—be it competition or re-creation—will supercede their willingness to compromise. We all have our tribes.

I've focused a lot on the negatives, but allow me to clarify that both approaches offer tremendous benefits. The principled fencer’s utilitarian approach to fencing—more often than not—yields a higher rate of success in competitive environments as opposed to their purely technical counterparts. That's why there seems to be a never ending pipeline of Olympic or sport fencing practitioners tearing up local tournaments across the world. A well honed sense of measure, footwork, and tempo can take you very far. Simply put, there are rules that govern fencing regardless of system, style or weapon.

On the other end of the spectrum, the technical fencer is pursuing a more pure expression of the art. They're more adept at matching the body mechanics and seek to bring to light a more literal interpretation of the source material. Often times this is framed as a more martial approach, the extreme of which is referred to as ‘real deadly fencing’.

So, how can we bring this all together? To mend this void, let me suggest an intermediary solution that could enliven the dusty old texts at the heart of HEMA for both pursuits; ie. those who wish to pursue excellence in competition and those who wish to preserve the the art of historical fencing. A path for the technical fencer to become more purposeful, and a purposeful fencer to find joy in the technical elements of the texts.

What is a Technique?

Regardless of discipline, master, timeframe or weapon, the typical presentation of a play or technique follows a fairly standard pattern: If a then b, if c then d. If you're fortunate a and c are clearly defined (*cough*—Marozzo—*cough*). Alas, that isn't always the case. What we come up with most of the time is a patient or b-side action (perpetrator of a and c) that renders the proper stimulus to execute the agents technique (b and d). The challenge of the instructor or communicator of said technique is to then train the proper stimulus and response into their students or peers. Then we drill the technique ad infinitum, and take it into sparring or fencing, so we can troubleshoot the failures, reinterpret, reintegrate, rechallenge, and scale it up again.

This is the technical progression. The challenge of a purely technical pursuit is that it requires the proper stimuli to facilitate the technique, and a common problem that arises between interpretation and actualization is the quality of the stimuli. That is, if the actual quality of a or c varies from the trained quality of a or c, then the execution of the technique fails.

This is not a problem unique to modern HEMA. In fact, many authors discuss the challenge inherent in the transition from training or controlled stimuli to the reality of fencing.

Nicoletto Giganti was well acquainted with the full frontal reality of his cock swing peers in the salle, but realized that the minuta of their perfect parries were perfidious against the reality of picking a fight with pompous drunken sailors stumbling back to the arsenal in Venezia. One must become acquainted with the ‘bizarre blows’ of the uninitiated.

A similar anecdote, although directed toward the necessity of training with sharp swords, is present in Angelo Viggiani’s 1551, lo Schermo:

Note, that I'm not advocating for the use of sharp swords here, but what I believe this passage highlights is a phenomenon common to competitive fencing. That is, having something to lose— like life and limb—versus training in a controlled safe environment, mirrors the difference between familiar fencing with your peers and the adrenaline-filled reality of competition. You can make tight, well timed parries against the consistent structure of a well practiced friend, but when that endocrine response kicks in you're more likely to push your responses to an unfamiliar end.

Both of these historical anecdotes represent factors that complicate a technical approach. What I often find lacking in interpretations that err too far in a technical direction is a sense of humanity—which is a weird thing to say, so allow me to explain. People come in all shapes and sizes with a number of factors that limit their ability to execute a technique, or experiences that engender their own unique interpretations.

If you step into the ring with someone, and say to yourself, I'm going to do Marozzo’s second part of the abatimento di spada sola—this’ll get ‘em! 90% of the time it isn’t going to work beyond the falso impuntato. Or, take the first part of the abatimento, which has an eight action progression—probably not going to happen.

So how do you take the words of an author from a half millennia ago and create something that works regardless of this inevitable variation?

What’s the Purpose:

Every play has a purpose, but before any further digression in that direction, let’s take a moment and discuss the difference between an abatimento, a combattendo, and an assalto—because context matters. Let’s start with an assalto, plays that are considered an assalto are usually performed with a blunt sword (spada da lato), and they are usually performative. An abatimento has more ritualized aura, the word abatimenti historically was used in the chronicles to describe a passage of arms, or fighting in a duel. It's structured, it has rules. Where a combattendo is visceral, it's a random fight—a bar brawl.1

So, when authors like Marozzo and Manciolino subcategorize their text with these pretexts what are they trying to tell us?

There are a number of clues. The first, most obvious one, is whether or not they're performed with a sharp or a blunt sword. What does that tell us? Viggiani and Giganti already answered that for us, didn't they? There's a real sense of danger.

This is not to deride or unsubstantiate the efficacy of their assalto with some hierarchy of ‘realness’, to the contrary, their assalto—often performed with the spada da lato—in many ways are in fact their most technical and artful passages. They are how the master envisioned the progression of a fight.

Knowledge of this will help you understand the context, but it won't help you bring the art to life. Understanding that Michaelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel at the behest of Pope Julius II to mark the power and prestige of the militant church or that most of Leonardo da Vinci’s female portraits are of Ludovico Sforza’s mistresses won't make you a legendary painter. However it will give you context into the artists frame of mind. It gives you a clue as to why.

The next layer of purpose is also—usually— stated. Is it an attack or a defense? Easy enough, right? Sure. We can relate this to the subject of a painting. The Sistine Chapel is full of Biblical allegory, and while this requires some contextual understanding, it's relatively easy to identify and infer.

Similarly, there is an implied dichotomous relationship in fencing; agent and patient or attacker and defender. It's fairly easy to see on the surface level and gives you an understanding of the subject of the play or passage. This subject will inform the purpose within the context of the text.

Now we begin to see the technique. If a then b, if c then d, etc.

We can relate this to something like the application of paint to the ceiling to give it color. Michaelangelo used a variety of grey or blue backgrounds with pops of color coming from the clothes of his figures who he envisioned as white southern Europeans in skin tone and complexion. We could argue the use of color gives the work a sense of liveness—we, as humans, see a spectrum of colors and gradients and a mono-tonal reality just wouldn't do. This is to say nothing of the realism or factual reality, it's simply a means or a process.

Now, if I told you to take the elements that we’ve outlined in our analogy of the Sistine Chapel, and I asked you to paint a similar masterpiece using only context, purpose, and means—that is I handed you a brush and paint, then asked you to paint my ceiling, how do you think you would fare?

It probably depends on your current technical understanding of the art of painting.

Form:

When artists like Leonardo da Vinci or Michaelangelo entered into an apprenticeship with a master in the so called ‘Florentine school’, their first assignment was to learn form. This instruction was typically executed through sketches; the sketch of an object being the most fundamental conception of any work of art regardless of medium.

Those cuts or thrusts you execute over-and-over again, or the variety of steps you learn when you're a beginner are tantamount to the beginning stages of learning to execute form—a sketch. Interestingly if you talk to some of the best competitive fencers in the world, as I have, you'll find that they never stop drilling the fundamentals—they never stop sketching. That is, they never stop pursuing the perfection of form.

When one form is laid over another you begin to have the rendering of a subject, with each form representing the means or the process of creation. The resulting sketch is only as good as the artists ability to execute the form of the object they're trying to represent.

The execution of form is technique. In the process of learning to create a form, an artist was taught a variety of techniques. Elements like shape, shading, light, perspective, and proportion. As they acquired new skills and techniques, they would apply them to their sketches—over-and-over again.

For the martial artist, the implementation of form—whether it is in solo practice or in partnered drills—can be categorized in two ways; quality of movement and execution. That is, I can execute a technique, and my quality of movement can be lacking, similarly I can have a high quality of movement and fail to execute a technique.

Finding the harmony of these two elements is an area where technical fencers tend to excel. That process of drill, pressure test, and reinterpret highlighted above. It's also an area where principled fencer's tend to fail, in that—in my experience—their quality of movement is lacking, as they tend to focus on the execution, and as long as that is sufficient they’re fine with sacrificing the later.

We could relate this to the trope of the bouncing sport fencer fixed in a point forward guard. It's an image that would look awkward or unnatural when juxtaposed onto the battlefield of Pavia in 1525, or into the steccato at Castello Mantua in 1516 when Guido Rangoni and Ugo Pepoli squared off in their famous duel.

The question is, does form have a purpose? Beyond the rendering of a believable image that interposes the function of realism into a otherwise two dimensional representation of a subject, art—especially in the modern world—is also about conveying emotion. Enter the abstract. Before we digress into the abstract any further, allow me to answer that question in the affirmative.

Does form have purpose? Yes. The HEMA and WMA communities have, for some years now, tried to create safe and effective tools that simulate the realistic analogues of historical weapons. One could reasonably argue that this is one of the key factors that separates historical fencing from it's sportive or Olympic counterpart. Foil vs Feder.

Yet that doesn't stop the purposeful extreme of the sportive fencer from succeeding. So how is that significant or relevant? If your goal is historical realism the absurdity of the stereotypical sport fencer amongst the a pike-laden wall of Lanksnechts or Reislaufer at the battle of Pavia is enough. But there's more to the story, a silent killer of dreams, when reality meets poor execution. A graveyard of shredded tendons and torn muscles.

For a number of years the more historically inclined wishing to preserve the authenticity of an attempted recreation of the art have used cutting as a metric or a gate keeping mechanism to facilitate this end. I'm not going to argue for or against, I'm simply stating a fact. I will note that in my own practice, cutting has taught me a lot about edge alignment and body mechanics, and has proved to be an incredibly useful tool in my understanding of historical martial arts.

Perhaps a better way to frame an argument around the use of of form and body mechanics in fencing, as opposed to what works, is to discuss their purpose.

Simply put, the weight of a historical simulator is greater. As such, the refined and well trained small twitch motions that are so effective with an epee or sabre {obviously an extreme}, will often stress the muscles and tendons that facilitate such motions to such a degree that they could potentiate long-term and systemic injury.

When a historical figure like Johannes Liectenauer suggests that you should fence with the entirety of your body, or the anonymous author of MSS Ravenna M-345/M-346, encourages that a half turn of the hand should be accompanied by a half turn of the body, and a half turn of the body should be accompanied with a half turn of the foot, etc., they're not just teaching you how to fence with leverage and strength, the notion imbued in that conclusion is inherently the functional necessity required to command the weapon at hand.

This is a function of form, and your form should be proportional to the tool in use. A well formed sketch would neither translate to the chisel or brush, just as the form of an Olympic fencer wouldn’t translate to the historical lists.

Alas, while form and technique may bring back echoes of the past and are themselves well calibrated for the reality of the tool in use, they still find their match in the realm of reality. How can it be so?

The Power of Principle:

Background:

In the winter of 2019, I was competing in my third or fourth HEMA tournament (I honestly can't remember), at Queens Gambit in Charlotte NC, and I was fortunate enough to square-off in the final of the sidesword competition with Martin Niggemeier, a veteran fencer who was formerly a member of the German National Olympic fencing team, and a top 50 rated Sword and Buckler fencer in the early days of HEMA ratings. In the quarterfinal I had just beaten my dear friend Zach Showalter, a top 25 rated sidesword and longsword fencer {historically}, while Martin had just dispatched David Biggs, another good friend and tremendous fencer, whose decorated HEMA career is only overshadowed by his legendary status in the SCA. In retrospect it was a stacked field, even if Zach and I were just starting to reach our potential.

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of fencing with Martin Niggemeier will probably agree that the best way to describe his approach was ‘wily’. As an older gentleman he knew he wasn't going to beat you with pure athleticism; although he was very athletic, and from a technical standpoint I wouldn't say he was among the most historical fencer I've faced in the ring; though he was plenty capable and came from one of the best technical schools in the country—Sword Carolina. What separated Martin from the field that day was his understanding of principle. Tempo and measure.

He won.

It was a close match, but I gained some tremendous experience in spite of the outcome. As all competitors learn, sometimes losing is more formative than winning, and it's the work you put in after a loss that pushes you to realize your full potential.

Boy did I put in the work.

I had the pleasure of fencing with Martin again at SERFO later that year, in a non-competitive sparring match before the sword and buckler tournament. He told me afterwards that our sparring match that day was among the best fencing he's ever taken part of—it was a tremendous compliment. Everything I had worked toward in the lead-up to that moment had come to fruition, and I accounted for myself incredibly well—I dominated him in that final bout.

This, quite rightly gave me significant confidence going into the sword and buckler tournament that day. I rode that high through my pool and cleared my field of competitors without getting hit—once. A perfect pool. Then, I had to face Marcus Lewis in my first elim fight, in the second round of elims after a bye. Marcus had so many doubles in his first elim fight that his coach Keith Cotter-Rielly started him out in our match with a negative score. Despite this, Marcus still won. I was incredibly embarrassed with myself. Mind you, Marcus was no slouch, to the contrary, he's one of the greatest American competitive fencers—ever. He's been in the top 30 of every weapon category he's competed in, and at his peak was the 16th highest rated fencer in the world in longsword. Still, I had an unprecedented advantage—after a perfect pool—and I squandered it.

So what happened?

In my pool I was able to impose my will, and rely on my technical fencing and more robust defensive approach—born from losing to Martin—in order to dominate my matches. When I squared off with Marcus, that proved to be my Achilles heel (pun intended). My technical acumen was stretched to it's limit by Marcus's sheer volume of attacks, and was further hindered by my self imposed limitation on taking a risk that could result in a double, and inevitably cost me a number of points in the end. The technical fencing that had brought me to that point failed in the face of principle.

Later that year I would go on to take third place in sword alone at Raleigh Open, beating Piotr Przanowski; a top five fencer in rapier and sword and buckler, with a very principled and technical approach—born from my loss to Marcus—but just a few months later I would lose to him twice at Steel City in the quarterfinal for sabre; not my discipline, and the final for sword and buckler because I was trying to be far too technical. After riding the plays of Marozzo’s sword and large buckler through my pools and elims; with the likes of Joe Lilly, I made it back to a gold medal match, but I was undone by an ill timed wide step trying to do an action from Marozzo’s sword and targa.

It was an incredible year for competitive success, and a number of key lessons were learned as I gained invaluable experience, but that all illusive gold medal still evaded me. I had to adapt.

As Antonio Manciolino says in his Opera Nova, experience is the mother of all wisdom. What I learned through my success that year, and gained from my loses was an understanding of the limitations of my approach. I was training form almost 10 hours a week, and sparring every time the opportunity presented itself, but my 7 day-a-week commitment still had not produced the results that I was looking for. There was a disconnect. One final hurdle to overcome.

Then the pandemic happened.

I started l’Arte dell Armi to rekindle the lost camaraderie that the COVID-19 virus stole from the HEMA world, and through that I had the honor of talking to some of the best fencers in the world.

It was through those conversations with many of those legends of the game that I began to realize where my approach had faltered. My focus on the technical realization of the historical texts was in many ways missing a key element of purposeful fencing. Principle.

That's when I set off on my quest to master Antonio Manciolino’s Opera Nova, a work still in progress to this day. If you listen back to my first interview with David Biggs, and the subsequent interview where we discussed the stringere of space, you can actually hear my change in mindset; it's pretty fascinating. If I had to credit anyone with inadvertently teaching me how to escape that enduring plateau, it would inevitably be David Biggs, Bill Grandy (in an interview sadly lost to the void), James Reilly, and Richard Cullinan.

What’s In a Technique?

Embedded in every assalto, abatimento, and combattendo—every gloss, device, and play, are a series of principles. Some are often left unstated, like the rules that govern fencing; tempo and measure, while others can be obscured in the presentation of a technique but are ever present; like strong and weak—the two principles that Liectenauer says are the fundament of all art.

Drawing this back to our analogy of Leonardo da Vinci and Michaelangelo Buonarroti; both men upon mastering their forms and techniques would have been tasked with copying the work of a master over and over, before apprenticing with a master to aid in his work until they were finally charged with creating a masterpiece of their own. It was through this pedagogical process that students would learn the principles executed by the master and eventually develop new techniques and a unique style.

What eventually separated these two men from their peers was a certain je ne sais quoi.

For Leonardo da Vinci this was manifest in a technique called sfumato or more colloquially as Leonardo’s smoke, where he would seamlessly blur the outline of his subjects into the whole of the painting. For Michaelangelo it was his innate ability to convey emotion through the posture of his subjects. They both found a way to manipulate form and technique to manifest a sense of realism—humanity—in their works.

When you look at a technique in a fencing manual, and you attempt to develop an interpretation beyond the letters on a page, the question you should keep asking yourself, is why.

When an author says, if the agent attacks with a you should do b, there are a number of causal realities that could prompt c, which ultimately results in d. But further analysis could reveal what else can be done if the expected response in c is not the reality. The why you’re searching for is imbedded in the patients response, and the agents subsequent action.

The answer to why is often derived as, what is best; this is where many people tend to err. What is best is often suggestive and personal, it requires some experience and lacks a sense of humanity. What is best can help you form an interpretation that works in isolation, but it will often fail to account for variability.

Sword fighting happens at a rate of speed that severely limits analytical conceptualization or computation beyond a fraction of a second. Thus it's application has to be reduced to a function of the senses. This is represented in the Liechtenauer tradition with the word fühlen and the five words {vor, nach, strong, weak, Indes}, it's solved in-part in the Bolognese tradition by watching the opponents sword hand and tempo, and in later rapier traditions by watching the point of the opponents weapon and tempo. Each of these realities are systematized to solve the rapidity of requisite response and are predicated on the use of one of the five senses.

The objective of the interpretation should therefore answer why first, using the principles of fencing to derive why.

Take for example Marozzo’s first abatimenti da spada sola, Capitolo 94. In that section you are agent. Your initial action is to throw a provocation (falso tondo) toward the eyes of the opponent that gets them to react, followed by a blow that's meant to capitalize on that movement (mandritto fendente). Why?

You don't want your action, your true attack to be interrupted by your opponent being fixed in guard; whereby they can act in the time of your true attack, so you have to force them to move in some way. That answers our why for a, but what about b and c?

Marozzo doesn't tell you what b is, we’re only given c. So, in order to find a reasonable solution to the missing b it helps to ask, why c. Here our c is a mandritto fendente which ends in porta di ferro larga; a full cut. The question you should ask yourself is why does he do a mandritto and why does he make the cut fendente (vertical).

For me, the answer is that Marozzo is trying to gain measure through a series of provocations with the intent of performing a meza spada action; we can call this the objective. The falso tondo to the eyes provokes a response, and if the opponent defends against a with b and holds their ground to defend against c—the subsequent mandritto fendente—then you've got them at meza spada; our objective.

The falso tondo goes from right to left (agents perspective), which means their best response is to parry from left to right (patients perspective). If they do so, then the mandritto fendente will either strike their head and sword arm (no d) or their subsequent parry of will create a crossing (d). What is best, is of course subjective, what if they parry from right to left or come forward with an attack of their own?

The answer reverts back to the objective. Say, they defend right to left, their terminal guard will be on their inside {their left}. In this scenario they're likely trying to beat your sword, but that's inconsequential. If their destined position of rest is on the left, then you'll want to gain their sword on the left before giving an attack. Thus, rather than throwing the mandritto fendente, you'll throw a roverso traversatto, which is to quite literally cross their sword; for the unacquainted. Once you've made this change you can proceed as you see fit, according to principle. This is facilitated by watching the opponent’s sword hand. Note, that the objective—gaining the opponent’s sword—has not changed (seeking mezza spada).

There are a number of principles at play in both of the scenario’s highlighted thus far. First is whether my opponent is strengthening or weakening. In both {left to right or right to left}, they are strengthening; going from one guard to another. Therefore, as outlined in the Marozzo quote above, my objective is to renew my attack (weaken; c) before they are settled in guard. The objective of that renewed attack—in tempo—is to create a crossing whereby I can act in an artful manner.

If they come forward with an attack in the tempo of your falso tondo they will be weakening, and you should go strong into it, be it with guardia di faccia or a mezzo mandritto, etc.

As the anonymous author says:

So, when you give that falso tondo, you should be looking for how the opponent responds to the attack, and act accordingly. You should be watching their sword hand.

What's clear from the text, is that the pressure of a and c; the falso tondo followed by the mandritto fendente prompts the opponent to retreat or give ground. This is indicated by the mandritto fendente ending in porta di ferro larga; a terminal position only assumed if the play (progress of the fight) has become wide.

The next two techniques in the abatimento plus the opening offensive action in capitolo 100, form a tryptic that highlights a set of key principles of false edge actions throughout the Bolognese corpus. I like to sum it up like this:

«If it bites; thrust • If it beats; slice • If it breaks; cut around»

In Capitolo 94, Marozzo ends the mandritto fendente in porta di ferro larga where he’s set a trap. If the enemy attacks your head or leg, you throw a falso to the sword hand in the tempo of their attack, whereupon you’ll slice {segarai} a mandritto fendente traversatto, which is basically a vertical cut from the right that crosses, and this cross or traverse is likely across their sword arm (I’ll add clarity to this in a minute). Then you redouble the cut.

The segata indicates that there is a slight beat, a bounce per se, that creates a slight separation of the swords. Not enough of a separation that the opponents sword is off-line so you can't cut around, and it hasn't bound so you can't thrust. Thus you take advantage of the space and slice to the face and sword arm.

Because you're on the outside line with that rising falso and segata, the opponent will have no choice but to parry your attack toward their right {left to right}, which allows you to redouble your mandritto behind their sword to the exposed inside line.

The principles at play here are twofold. One, when you've created an opportunity to attack, make the tempo or size of your attack proportional to the distance from the opponents sword. Two, if they have the wherewithal to parry, redouble or renew your attack in the tempo of their strengthening or guard change. Or as Manciolino says, “He who redoubles his attacks is a valorous fencer.” (Leoni, pg. 115)

The redoublement of that fendente ends in porta di ferro larga. The trap has been set yet again. This time however, when the opponent tries to drive us out of our wide guard, here Marozzo uses the verb caccierà; literally a driving hunt, with either a thrust or a cut, we come up with the rising falso, and because of the magnitude of the corresponding beat and separation of the swords (which has broken the opponents structure; hints break), we can cut around with a mighty roverso that goes from the top of their head all the way down through their toes.

Again, the principles remain the same, but one must admit the repetition seems rather intentional, like Marozzo is trying to convey the principle by replicating the same progression with two very different continuations within the same abatimenti. Almost like he's leading us to the why.

Later in Capitolo 100, from porta di ferro stretta, you meet the opponent’s sword with a rising falso that “bites” into their sword, and come forward with a punta dritta (a thrust from the right). This illustrates the third facet of the principle, where if the swords bind the repost is a thrust.

This same principle is illustrated in Antonio Manciolino's sword alone section found in Book 4, Chapter XII of his Opera Nova.

If he attacks your upper parts with a mandritto or riverso fendente, or with a thrust, you can parry any of these blows with a falso, provided that you do not pass the Guardia di Faccia. Then, immediately pass forward while turning your hand, and push a thrust to your opponent’s face or chest—as you prefer. Alternatively, after parrying with the falso, you can let loose a mandritto to his face and let it descend so that it hits his arms and chest: if you choose to deliver this stroke, accompany it with an accrescimento of your right foot. This is among the unique defenses that can be effected in this type of play.

The alternative here is predicated on the principle of proportionality. If it bites; thrust, if it beats; slice. Notice the specification that Manciolino gives here, that the slice will go to the face and descend to the sword arm, the intent is to make sure that the strike finishes in a way that prevents any sort of counter attack. This is the same technique that Marozzo is illustrating when he uses the term traversatto.

It's worth taking a moment to further illustrate how this technique could help everyone participating in historical martial arts—regardless of approach. Swords are usually classified as such because they have longer blades and therefore more cutting edge to pass through a target. When cutting, even with a simulator of a weapon, the proper mechanic for delivering a cut is to draw the weapon through the target, unless otherwise stated.

What I tend see a lot of—primarily in competitive settings—is percussive or popping cuts {playfully coined as a boop} rather than people drawing their edge through. Consequently, when you strike someone's head and leave your hands high or pull straight back from the target area, you're more likely to double, whereas if you to draw the edge of your weapon through the person's face, you're more likely to cover, and make a more martially valid cutting action in the process. Using a sword like a sword has benefits beyond recreation. Furthermore, the force transfer of a cut that is drawn verses a cut where all the force is localized to one location is far less, and is therefore less likely to cause a concussion or any percussive damage, keeping your sparring partners safe and happy.

Returning to Capitolo 94 and 100, from Achille Marozzo’s, Opera Nova. What we’ve done with this exercise is, we’ve taken a play or set of techniques and extracted a principle that we can use in fencing. The likelihood of getting through the opening provocation of Capitolo 94 and settling yourself in porta di ferro larga to set-up the segata followed by a redoubled mandritto that ends in porta di ferro larga so the opponent comes forward again, only this time to beat their sword away with such vigor that you can cut a mighty roverso from head to toe is unlikely. However, utilizing a rising false edge while having the knowledge and a well trained sense of feeling; where you’ll know whether to thrust, slice or cut around, is much more likely to come into play and is perhaps more useful.

We can arrive at the principle by identifying trends and similarities, then exploring where they differ, whereby we’ll begin our digression by asking ourselves why.

Bringing Technique and Principle into Harmony:

A helpful way to thoroughly explore the texts in both a technical and principled manner is to find a number of different plays in the text that have the same set-up (a-b) and different outcomes (c-d). Identify what stimulus from a or b would prompt the variation of c or d, and build an attack tree. Focus on that principle and develop the correct responses based on the principle at play.

In order to do this you'll have to familiarize yourself with a number of texts. In doing so, keep a notebook, start a page for falso from porta di ferro, and start filling in plays. Look at a number of defensive actions, offensive actions; make spreadsheets, pour over the text and start building a technical bank where you can look for how an author of a set of authors apply certain principles.

Keep asking yourself why. Look for the all valuable or and explore the nuance of the potential variability.

This function, when put into practice, will help you to fence technically with proper principle, which is vitally important. It's the sfumato, the emotion, the chiaroscuro—the sprezzatura—that makes this practice an artform.

As you find the principles that instantiate the art, bring them into your form practice. Do an assalsto or an abatimento and explore how the structure and dynamic movement of the authors bring the principles to light. This will help you train a martial body and a martial mind-set, it will help you train the neural pathways and decision making process necessary to calculate while the sword is moving. It will breath life into your sketches.

Here are the principles I look for:

• Is it an attack or defense?

  • If attack:

    • Is it a provocation?

    • Is it a true attack?

  • If defense:

    • Is it contra tempo?

    • Is it due-tempo?

  • Does the role of attacker or defender change in the progression of the play?

• Is the opponent's response strong or weak?

  • Weak: cutting around, sfalsata, impuntato, wrenching, thrusting free etc.

  • Strong: trying to complete a guard change; parry, overbind, contratempo, etc.

• Is the authors response strong or weak?

• What is the measure?

  • Bolognese fencing has different tactical realities predicated on measure; larga, stretta, mezza spada.

  • Where are you in the progression?

  • How does measure change your response? Is the author giving different responses based on a change in measure from either agent or patient?

• How does this happen in reality?

  • ie. If I attack my opponent or provoke my opponent, I am still beholden to the notion that I want to renew my attack in the tempo of my opponents guard change before they become fixed in guard. So, how do time, tempo and principle change the execution.

• Am I seeing a trend of variation, and can I extract a principle from that variation based on the above criteria?

• Commonality. Does this action show up in other sources?

  • If so:

    • How is it similar?

    • How is it dissimilar?

    • If dissimilar, what about the guard or expected response could be different that would cause the author to deviate.

Building your training around tactical progressions will help you account for inevitable variation. That is, you'll have knowledge of progressions along the different branches of the tree of possibilities. Some authors like Antonio Manciolino already present their techniques in this way. Take for example his sword alone section. You stringere your opponent with a gathering step, constraining the space, and trapping the opponent in a low guard; where their only natural attack is a thrust. When they come forward with the thrust you’re given a counter to their initial attack; a rising falso from porta di ferro stretta that doesn’t go past guardia di faccia, and five potential secondary attacks from the opponent, which he concludes with two counters if they deliver a cut from a low guard.

A few mechanical issues I would fix in my presentation here aside, you can see the variation and the principle of each progression.

This is what makes Manciolino and dall’Agocchie great sources to start with, they provide a very linear systemic approach, a and b; c and d, are clearly defined. A trickier source—like Marozzo—isn’t as concise. Thus it's often better to work from a source that is more clear, determine the principles, and work your way into an author like Marozzo, so you have a solid foundation.

While Manciolino is technically more concise, he’s not always clear which principles are at play. Note that in developing that interpretation I had to rely on a number of rules that Manciolino outlined in the opening chapter of his Opera Nova, and further justified those principles with passages from other authors like Marozzo.

Interestingly, Marozzo does recommend a similar pedagogical approach as Manciolino and dall’Agocchie, he just doesn't bother to work through it like they do. In book two of his Opera Nova, Capitolo 138-143, he takes you guard by guard and tells that you teach your student how to attack and defend from each guard position. This seems relatively out of place given the fact that he's already presented the bulk of his combattendo and abatimento with sword and various defensive arms at this point. Thus the general repudiation that he needed a better editor.

However, I think this might be intentional. You've already shown your students the tactical modes of fencing through the assalti, and given them an idea of how to move in each passage of measure, then through the abatimenti and combattere, you’ve illustrated how to weave these elements together; how to traverse the modes and measures, and apply it to the reality of an opponent, where finally you bring your students back to the principles and variation of position. This leads to that ‘ah ha’ moment, where the principle enters their mind and substantiates the preexisting knowledge of the techniques.

Perhaps that's just wishful thinking.

Regardless, your development of interpretations should follow a similar progression.

Technique:

• Biomechanics

• Physical aptitude

• Technical application

Principle:

• Why

• Strong and Weak

• Tempo

• Mode/Measure

• Structure

One thing I see a lot from more principled interpretations to make a play ‘work’ is the vaunted ‘unstated action’, or deviation of steps or actions (cut angulation, structure, guard form and the like) to make their desired interpretation come to light. Ultimately, if you're seeking the truth, this is a practice to be avoided. But…

Sometimes you don't have a choice. So how do you you square that circle? You've gotta grind the edges. What does that mean? More often than not, the author or a tangential author will give you the answer elsewhere in the text. You're going to have to do some digging, really look at the fullness of the text or system to find an answer.

In the video embedded above, I used a few common pieces of advice found throughout the Bolognese corpus: Marozzo and Manciolino both advise that you should watch the opponents sword hand until your close enough that your attention should turn to their left hand, and that the only natural attack from low guards is a thrust.

Through those unstated principles, I was able to devise an agent and patient that each had a chance for success, and furthered the play along as Manciolino described them in his text. I also stuck to Manciolino’s stated actions; ie. steps, cuts, parries, guards etc. and tried to find the body structure, and turns of the hips that allowed me to perform the techniques effectively.

All that to say, sometimes there is a grey area in the overall presentation of a play, but those grey areas should be colored with evidence found within the text or related texts:

Here's a helpful progression that I learned from Greg Mele; though this is my take on his spheres of influence. When you need to find the correct action to fill-in the blank look first…

1. Within the same section.

2. Withing the same source.

3. Within the same system/timeframe. A reasonable progression for the early sources would be:

   1. Marozzo and Manciolino (early 16th century)

   2. Anonimo and dall’Agocchie (late 16th century)

   3. Viggiani

   4. Achillini

   5. The Bolognese corpus writ large.

4. Within the same time period/region.

5. Within an earlier text; eg. Fiore or Vadi for Marozzo spada da due mane.

6. Within later sources.

7. Globaly.

While not perfect, this progression will generally bring you closer to the reality of what you're trying to to recreate.

Conclusion:

Whatever your objective may be, engaging with the sources in a meaningful way is always a rewarding enterprise. For the beginner, it can be intimidating at first, like you're reading another language, but just as in the process of learning a new language, the best place to start is with the essential vocabulary. As you get more familiar with the texts, and the cadence of the various authors, reading through the source material will get easier with practice.

For the more experienced practitioner finding the correct balance of principle and technique can do wonders for your fencing overall. In many respects—for me—a more principled focus in combination with my preexisting technical knowledge-base and my dedication to form practice allowed me to overcome many of the hurdles that were holding me back, ie. I started to win gold in most of the competitions that I was taking part in. While this was a slight departure from what I thought was the right way to approach historical fencing, what I found was something closer to what the Bolognese authors intended. My intent was no longer to see my way through the progression of an abattimenti hoping that my opponent would play along or expecting that my action would force the response I was looking for, but to use the bones of those well conceived progressions to dominate my opponents through the principles they represent.

The more principled fencer can find value in this as well. While a well trained sense of the rules that govern fencing can take you far in Historical Martial Arts, learning to understand the body mechanics and looking at the systemic principles inherent in the pedagogy of the historical authors can help you problem solve new and unexpected stimuli. For example, I watched a video from a rapier practitioner the other day, where the person presenting a technique was disparaging the fact that they hated beats, because they never work. The principle we explored with Marozzo and Manciolino’s sword alone sections could greatly benefit this person. If it bites thrust, if it beats slice, if it breaks cut around. You can modify that at your leisure to find how the same principle inherent with the weapon at hand. I’ve found a number of instances where the principle applies in KdF as well.

My hope is that you’ll use this framework, or some variation of this framework to pursue an artful expression of Historical Swordsmanship. Find value, purpose and function in the persistent pursuit of perfecting form, seek the sfumato and humanity of otherwise inanimate splotches of ink on a page, and breath life into the words of the ancient masters. Through this enterprise, you can find—I believe—a sense of mastery yourself. While we don’t have masters in the modern age of HEMA, the pursuit of mastery should always be your goal—even if the objective is in many ways unattainable.

In the end, you’ll have to pursue whatever means bring you closer to your ultimate goal. I just hope this acts as a source of encouragement for those seeking a way to either find a more substantial exploration of the texts, or a starting place for those are beginning the endeavor. In many ways this is a letter to my past self. I hope you find it useful as well.

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This is the beginning of a series exploring Bolognese tactics. Both Stephen and I will be posting a number of articles in the near future, expressing our understanding of the tactics, strategies, and technical elements of Bolognese fencing we’ve found in our years of practice. If you want to follow along, make sure to subscribe.

Works Cited:

1. Fratus, Stephen. “With Malice and Cunning: Anonymous 16th Century Manuscript on Bolognese Swordsmanship.” Lulu Press. 18 February 2020. Print.

2. Swanger, Jherek. “The Duel, or the Flower of Arms for Single Combat, Both Offensive and Defensive, by Achille Marozzo.” Lulu Press. 22 April 2018. Print.

3. Leoni, Tom. “The Complete Renaissance Swordsman: Antonio Manciolino's Opera Nova (1531)” Freelance Academy Press. 27 May 2015. Print.

4. Swanger, Jherek. Giovanni dall’Agocchie, Dell’Arte di Scrimia, “The Art of Defense: on Fencing, the Joust, and Battle Formation”, lulu press, May 5, 2018. Digital.

5. Swanger, Jherek. “The Schermo of Angelo Viggiani dal Montone of Bologna.” 2002. Digital.

6. Swanger, Jherek. “How to Fight and Defend with Arms of Every Kind, by Antonio Manciolino.” Lulu Press. 4 February 2021. Print.

7. Fratus, Stephen. “The Monomachia: The Fencing System of Francesco Altoni.” Art of Arms Press. 1 September 2024. Print.

8. Termiello, Piermarco & Pendragon, Joshua. “The Art of Fencing; The Discourse of Camillo Palladini.” The Royal Armories. October 2019. Print.

Introduction:

Many theories have been postulated as to why Angelo Viggiani del Montone decided to rename the guards of the Bolognese fencing tradition in his 1551 work, lo Schermo. I’ve argued for a number of them myself, ranging from Viggiani being a heretic to writing for a multicultural audience to simply being a reformer, looking to modernize the tradition. In this article I intend to dispel the first, address the second, and validate the third with a deeper look at the philosophical backbone of his innovative schermo.

First an acknowledgement, and an address as to how I came upon this new line of reasoning.

This journey to uncover why Viggiani approached his schermo the way he did came to me rather organically. Like many scholars of Bolognese fencing I enjoyed the thoroughness of Viggiani's explanations, his descriptions of body mechanics, and his discussions on tempo and advantages. Despite this, my perspective on his guards ranged from satirical condemnation to genuine curiosity. However, it wasn't until I started to view Bolognese fencing with a Renaissance mindset that I truly began to appreciate the masterful nature of his work.

The first person to show me the cavernous tunnel that would produce this rabbit hole was Rob Runacres, whose 2022 paper, The Bolognese Tradition: Ancient Tradition or Modern Myth, introduced me to Giovanni Filoteo Achillini. Through a series of corresponding private conversations, Rob encouraged me to pursue information pertaining to Giovanni’s brother, Alessandro, and it was upon this quest that the flood gates began to open.

In my subsequent pursuit to understand the influence of the Università’s influence on Bolognese fencing I produced a paper titled Marozzo’s Razor. Then, in the summer of 2024, I put together a lecture called Who Are We? Scholasticism in Fencing for WMAW. The objective of this lecture was to layout a landscape of various fencing authors who inundated their work with scholastic ideas, with the hope that curious observers would explore the subject on their own. In the process of constructing this lecture I was introduced to Bob Powers by James Reilly. Bob is a PhD candidate in Philosophy at Marquette University and an adjunct professor at Concordia University in Wisconsin.

Bob was incredibly generous with his time. After reviewing my lecture, and discussing the subject matter with me—over the course of a three hour phone call—he encouraged me to continue to pursue this vein of research. This paper is the result of that encouragement, and many of the papers cited in this article were shared with me by Mr. Powers. I’m eternally in his debt.

Background and Historical Context:

Unfortunately we don’t know a lot about Angelo Viggiani’s life. We know that he was Bolognese in origin and born sometime in the late 15th to early 16th century. It’s possible that he and his brother Battista were the son’s of Giasone Viggiani.1 The Viggiani family {Vizzani} were one of the oldest noble families in Bologna, and through much of the 14th-15th century were associated with the ruling Bentivogleschi faction. However, in 1449 they participated in a coup, led by the Fantuzzi and Pepoli families, and were exiled from the city. Later, in 1506 after Pope Julius II overthrew the Bentivoglio family, many of the exiled patricians were given an opportunity to return to the city; including members of the Viggiani family.

Among the notable members of ancient Vizzani lineage, probably the most resplendent is Melchiore Vizzani: famed knight, diplomat, and politician. In 1445 Spezza Vizzani stood shoulder to shoulder with Bologna’s greatest patrician, Galeazzo Marescotti d’Calvi, and defeated a number of Caneschi marauders with sword and targone. Nanne Vizzani, the son of Melchiore, was the member of the lineage who made the fateful decision to align the family with the Pepoli and Fantuzzi in 1449.

Returning to our subject: upon being repatriated to Bologna, Angelo followed in the Ghibelline heritage of his ancestors and became a cavalry captain in the Imperial Army. He served the distinguished commander Ferrante Gonzaga, who was, “{Charles V’s} foremost general and personal friend,” (Armstrong, pg. 271) and seems to have taken part in the siege of Florence in 1529.2 It is likely through Angelo Viggiani’s relationship with Ferrante that he became acquainted with his muse, Luigi Rodomonte Gonzaga, and the Holy Roman Emperor, his future patron.

In 1530, when Charles V was crowned as Holy Roman Emperor by Pope Clement VII in Bologna, Angelo Viggiani del Montone was a member of the Imperial retinue. Charles V was quite fond of Bologna, and returned to the city in 1533 after defeating an Ottoman army in Hungary. While in Bologna, he was delighted to take part in the annual Carnivale festivities, and competed with his dear friend Don Ferrante Gonzaga in combat at the barrier with spear and sword.

In his personal life, the emperor was a patron of numerous fencing guilds and shooting clubs, and enjoyed participating in their sanctioned events whenever time would allow. Among his courtiers were a number of prominent and notable figures in fencing history, and two of Viggiani’s eventual muses, including: Albrecht Dürer, Don Luis Fernández de Córdoba y Zúñiga (Manciolino’s patron), Luigi ‘Rodomonte’ Gonzaga (Viggiani’s muse), and Johann IV Count of Egmont (Viggiani’s muse).

Unto Viggiani’s third voice in his dialogue, Ludovico Boccadiferro, we can ascribe a fairly similar story. Angelo and Ludovico were certainly contemporaries, unfortunately it's hard to tell where exactly they may have met—if at all—or what influence they had on one another without more biographical detail. That said, there’s a tangled web of threads where both men’s lives overlap, and it is beneath this warp that we can find plenty of opportunity for their acquaintance.

Boccadiferro was one of the great lecturers in Philosophy at the Università di Bologna. He was also a contemporary and acquaintance to many of the members of the Academia del Viridario, of which Viggiani may have been a member. This scholarly society was founded by Giovanni Filoteo Achillini, whose brother, Alessandro Achillini, was Boccadiferro's greatest influence and principal instructor in Philosophy and Medicine. Both Giovanni Filoteo and Alessandro were courtiers in the Bentivoglio court, and if not Marozzo, certainly spent time with his patron Guido II Rangoni; one of Viggiani’s stalwarts of fencing. Giovanni, in his 1504/1513 work, Viridario, included sword and small buckler fencing, at the mezza spada (half sword), as one of the key facets of his ‘garden of the mind'.

It’s my belief that Viggiani’s lo Schermo is a product of his time in the Academia del Viridario, whose principle aim was a recreation of the fertile grounds that produced so many great Bentivogleschi courtiers, by combining scholasticism with the principles of chivalry—a theme in books one and two of Viggiani’s work, and the core tenant of Achillini’s epic poem. Unfortunately no concrete evidence of this has come to light.

Of the scholarly Academies that arose in the early 16th century, Ludovico Boccadiferro was notably a member of the Accademia Bocchiana along with Giovanni Filoteo Achillini, Alessandro Manzoli, Claudio Lambertini, Leonardo Alberti, it’s founder Achille Bocchi, and Romolo Amaseo; many of whom were also members of the Academia del Viridario.3

Beyond the court life of Bologna, Ludovico Boccadiferro was a close friend of Cardinal Pirro Gonzaga, the younger brother of Luigi Rodomonte Gonzaga. Pirro encouraged Boccadiferro to come to Rome and teach at the university of Sapienza, in 1525 after the professor had a dispute with Alessandro Achillini’s replacement at the Università di Bologna and rival philosopher, Pietro Pompanazzi.4 Ludovico would remain in Rome until the great sack in 1527, which saw wanton destruction by a rogue army of Charles V; an event instigated by Manciolino’s patron Don Luis Fernández de Córdoba y Zúñiga and Luigi Rodomonte Gonzaga’s in-laws the Colonna. During the chaos, Luigi Rodomonte Gonzaga would go on to save the life of Clement VII, and in kind the Pope made his brother—only 22 at the time—a Cardinal of the Holy Mother Church.

Another exemplar of fencing heralded by Viggiani is Conte Ugo Pepoli, who’s Palazzo provides the setting for Viggiani’s dialogue. Despite Ugo and the Pepoli family’s predilection toward the Guelf faction; representing those who aligned themselves with the kingdom of France in this time period5, Rodomonte—a staunch Ghibelline—holds a fondness and deep respect for the storied captain. This is likely Viggiani justifying his own feelings on the matter, and incorporating an appreciation for his families ancestral allies despite their political differences. It’s worth noting that Viggiani’s third voice in the dialogue, Conte de Agomonte (Johann IV Count of Egmont), is staying with Emilio Malvezzi; the most powerful Ghibelline family in Bologna. This is Boccadiferro and Rodomonte discussing the matter:

BOC. Where are you staying, Sir?

ROD. In the house of Count Ugo de' Pepoli

BOC. I would have rather believed, that you would be staying in the house of one of these illustrious Lords Malvezzi, since you are so Imperial, and maintain, and favor the same Imperial party in this City.

ROD. Even though I am a servant of the Empire, nevertheless I hold friendship with all the honored Knights, and I am rather in the house of Count Ugo because of the close friendship we have together.

BOC. And if I believe I can do this without offending the Count, and if I hope to obtain this from my Lord Rodomonte, I would try to force you with entreaties to make me gracious enough to stay with me, with whom you would have lodgings if not worthy of you, at least as loving as any other.

ROD. I thank you (Doctor) and it would not be honest to leave Count Ugo. I would like a favor from you, and that is that you show me your study.

—Viggiani pg. 26-27

Conte Ugo Pepoli and Conte Guido II Rangoni fought a duel in Mantua beneath the walls of Castello Gonzaga in 1516. The young, impressionable Rodomonte was 16 years-old at the time, and was a few years away from joining, the future Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V’s retinue as a courtier alongside Johann IV Count of Egmont, and Don Luis Fernández de Córdoba y Zúñiga.

Before his journey, Baldassare Castiglione, the author of the Book of the Courtier, gifted Luigi a hunting dog; a symbolic start that would see its ends fulfilled. Luigi was a model courtier, and earned his nickname Rodomonte, by defeating a giant Moor in a wrestling match. After Charles’s assent as the King of Spain, Rodomonte and Don Luis, would join the sovereign on a voyage to England to treat with Henry VIII, to subvert an alliance between France and England set to take place at the famed Field of Cloth and Gold.

On this trip, Rodomonte so impressed Henry VIII and Charles V with his hunting acumen and courtly manner, that he earned an embrace from both sovereigns. A matter that would tragically overshadow the life of Don Luis Fernández de Córdoba y Zúñiga.

Angelo Viggiani would finish his treatise titled lo Schermo in 1551; and dedicated it to Charles V, but wouldn’t live to see his work published; dying shortly thereafter. 15 years later in 1567, acting on Angelo’s will, his brother Battista would finish the publication, and rededicate the work to Charles’ successor, Maximillian II.

One of the prevailing themes throughout Angelo Viggiani’s lo Schermo is the path of the Philosopher and the path of the Soldier, where Luigi ‘Rodomonte’ Gonzaga represents the consummate soldier and Ludovico Boccadiferro represents the wizened old philosopher. Angelo Viggiani likely saw the entirety of the work—his masterpiece—as a harmony of both. Incidentally, his nephew, Enea; the son of Battista, would chose the path of the philosopher and become a lecturer at the Università di Bologna in 1576, after graduating with degrees in Philosophy and Medicine in 1572 (the two primary courses dominated by Achillini and Boccadiferro), and continued in the vocation until his death in 1602.6

Of the later notable members of the Vizzani family, few are as transcendent as the great Bolognese Chronicler, Pompeo Vizzani (1540-1607). He composed 12 books over the course of his storied life, beginning in 1578 with a retelling of the immaculate Carnivale tournament put on by the Knights of Viola in honor of his dear friend Ugo Boncompagni upon his assumption of St. Peter’s throne as Gregory XIII.

Pompeo Vizzani was a consummate statesman, serving as console in the Bolognese Government in 1558 wherein he was elevated to Gonfaloniere del Popolo, then later served as Tribuno della Plebe in 1585. Vizzani, like his forebearer, committed his life to a scholastic exploration of the classics, math, science, cosmology, and moral philosophy, while also pursuing excellence in gymnastics, fencing, and horsemanship.7 This later pursuit brought him into accord with the founders of the legacy organization of the Academia del Viridario, the Cavalieri della Viola or Desti; the famed Knights of Viola—of which Pompeo became a member after it’s inception in 1563.

Among the notable members of the Knights of Viola were Conte Pirro III Malvezzi, Marchese Ugo II Pepoli; great nephew of Conte Ugo and cousin of Giovanni dall’Agocchie’s patron Fabio Pepoli, and Pirro Boccadiferro; Ludovico’s nephew, among others. Pirro III Malvezzi, one of the founders of the Academia, had a reprint of Viggiani’s lo Schermo dedicated to him in 1588, by Zacharia Cavalcabo.

This publication was produced and redistributed by the Bolognese printer Giovanni Rossi8, who printed many of the Knights of Viola’s works, and a number of Pompeo Vizzani’s publications.

Speculative Aside: In looking into Viggiani’s family further, I’m beginning to suspect that Angelo and his brother Giovanni Battista were bastard or natural sons of Giasone Vizzani. Neither Angelo or Giovanni Battista are recorded as ‘official’ members of the Vizzani family, but Enea, Giovanni Battista’s son is; despite his father’s exclusion, and this is likely because he completed his doctorate and was recognized as noble (If this proves true it's also an indication Angelo never got his golden spurs). Contemporarily, it wasn’t uncommon for bastards to take the family name. Luigi ‘Alessio’ Pepoli was the bastard son of Guido Pepoli, and was adopted in the loving memory of his late father Guido by his uncle Giovanni Pepoli in the 1550’s. When Luigi got in trouble for trying to murder a senator of Bologna, Giovanni had to testify that—while the Pepoli let him use their name, he was not a Pepoli.

If Angelo and Battista are the bastard sons of Giasone di Domenico Vizzani, then they would be the ‘natural’ brothers of Camillo di Giasone di Domenico Vizzani, the father of Pompeo Vizzani. This relationship could explain the addition of del Montone as a moniker of extramarital progenity.

Viggiani’s Schermo: Why?

Before we get into the nuts and bolts of the philosophical underpinnings of Viggiani’s schermo, let’s look at why Viggiani decided to reimagine fencing and more importantly guard conventions in the mid-16th century:

ROD: I can; rather there are an infinity of guards, Conte, as there can be an infinity of settlements and positions; and it is true that each increment of space that you move the sword from high to low, or from low to high, from the forward to the rear, and the contrary, and from the right side to the left, and the contrary, and each little bit that you retire your foot from place to place, and in sum every infinitesimal movement forms diverse guards, which movements are without number or end. These Masters have, rather, placed names to those more necessary in order to have a way to be able to teach to their disciples with more facility, and having taken such names from some similarity or effect, from which whomever has well considered the semblances of the animals perhaps may have been able more appropriately to say “guard of the Unicorn”, “guard of the Lion”, and other such; but I, who am not a Master of a school, to you, who are not now my disciple, do not intend to give you to understand today all our exercises entirely for practice, but I will select only a schermo (as I said) with which, coming to blows with your enemy, or assaulted by him, or assaulting him, you can perfectly and preparedly strike him mortal wounds, and make a most secure defense from his. (Viggiani; Swanger, pg. 23)

The biggest takeaway from this explanation is that Viggiani understood the necessity of naming guards based on their utility or effect, but disagreed with the use of colloquial and zoomorphic conventions and derided the infinitesimal volume of potential guards rendered by every minute variation, as they respectively tended to ring hollow to someone unacquainted with or developed within the system and overcomplicated the art. He wanted a way to teach fencing that clearly expressed the principles therein—we can call this the soldiers paradigm. This wasn’t a novel complaint. The anonymous author of MSS Ravenna M-345/M-346, states:

What the anonymous author is purporting here, is exactly what Viggiani wishes to solve. A statement of importance; because there is no other thing in this art that you may need to understand as much, followed by an objective; you {should} immediately identify how he keeps his sword, a problem; the placement being from the infinite and innumerable, and a solution; know what it is suitable because being very shrewd and illuminated with the knowledge of his placement you will make effective attacks, with tempo, and with the sword, and the body; and doing them in such a manner that you will remain secure from harm.

To actualize this and reduce the guards, cuts and thrusts down to their base principles—to garner the knowledge to make effective attacks—Viggiani renamed them. To further understand how he decided on the specifics of his new naming convention, we have to start at the end.

BOC: If our Aristotle entirely reduces the ten {predicamenta}9 under two headings, “substance” and “accident”, or, we wish to say better, under “action” and under “potentiality”, as each thing will be either an action or a potentiality, similarly does the unvanquished Rodomonte reduce under these two headings all his art: that is, under “offense”, which is action, and under “defense”, or “guard”, which is potentiality; and in taking the most perfect action and the most perfect potentiality, has therein enclosed every other inferior action, and every other inferior potentiality. (Viggiani; Swanger, pg. 55)

Aristotle’s ten predicamenta that Boccadiferro is referring to here are outlined in his work, Categories, they are: 1.) Substance; 2.) Quantity; 3.) Quality; 4.) Relatives; 5.) Somewhere; 6.) Sometime: 7.) Being in a Position; 8.) Having; 9.) Acting; and 10.) Being Acted Upon. (Studtmann; Aristotles Categories) These are his ten highest kinds, or categories; as they are indefinable, and within each of these kinds there are subsets of genus and species with varying degrees of diferentia. Let’s define these terms.10

• Genus (Family): A broad category that contains species, a proximate group.

• Differentia: The essential defining trait; difference.

• Species: A type of thing. Defined by genus and differentia.11

To illustrate this methodology, let's look at one of Aristotle’s most famous examples—man. Humans are Animals (genus) and the differentia that separates them from other animals is that they are rational, therefore the species of man is rational animal. Note that there are a number of other differentia and genus that separate man from other animals; they're bipedal, they're mamalian, etc., but the most unique differentia, the highest kind, that separates man from his fellow animals is rationality.

Through the miracles of modern science we can poke a number of holes in this rational delineation, but that wouldn't serve us in the purpose of understanding Viggiani’s work, or how he viewed Aristotle's systema. Take this as a warning to clear your mind of your biases as we move forward. What we’ve just highlighted loosely satisfies the category of substance. Now we need to discuss our accidents; ‘action’ and ‘potential’.

The Oxford reference definition of an accident is, “In Aristotelian metaphysics an accident is a property of a thing which is no part of the essence of the thing: something it could lose or have added without ceasing to be the same thing or the same substance. The accidents divide into categories: quantity, action (i.e. place in the causal order, or ability to affect things or be affected by them), quality, space, time, and relation.”

Now that we have a base understanding of the key concepts, let’s dive into Viggiani’s lo Schermo.

Logic of Viggiani’s Guards:

First we must define, what a guard is? Viggiani explains:

CON: …What do you mean by “guard”? Do you want perhaps to mean that which is meant by others?

ROD: Know you well, that lying calm and settled in some form with arms, either in order to offend or defend, that settlement, and that position, and that composition of the body in that guise, in that form, I call “guard”.

In his discussion of tempo, Viggiani also gives us a physics based definition that will be important for understanding later portions of this discussion.

ROD: I see that the Conte does not understand well; and therefore in order to give it to him perhaps to understand, speaking chivalrically: you see, Conte, the philosophers have proven that prior to a body moving itself it will remain at rest, and ceasing its motion again remains at rest; so that a motion (provided that it be single) will lie in the middle of two rests.

BOC: In the Seventh and Eighth Physics Aristotle proved it; Rodomonte speaks the truth.

…

ROD: All right, it suffices that each motion that is single and continuous lies between the preceding and subsequent rest; look, then, Conte: before you throw a mandritto, a rovescio, or a punta, you are in some guard; having finished the blow, you find yourself in another guard; that motion of throwing the blow is a tempo, because that blow is a continuous motion; thus the tempo that it accompanies is a single tempo; when you rest in guard, having finished that motion, you find yourself once again at rest; it is therefore a tempo, a motion, which instead of calling a “motion”, we call a “tempo”, because the one does not abandon the other; and the guard is the rest and the repose in some place and form. In conclusion it is as much to say “tempo” and “guard”, as it is to say “motion” and “rest”. (Viggiani; Swanger, pg. 27-28)

Therefore, a guard is a point of rest {that being a point where motion ceases}, either before or after a motion. In combining these two observations we can define a guard as a settled position of rest with the potential to either offend our enemy or defend against them.

Viggiani’s logic for renaming the guards follows:

Form and purpose. A form can simply be defined as: the external shape, appearance, or configuration of an object.12 Purpose is more of an abstract concept. Dr. Michael Augros observes, “{what} Aristotle calls a σκοπός {purpose}, a mark to aim at, a goal.”13 This mark or aim would be either offense or defense as Viggiani himself explains:

Thus our purpose (σκοπός) is to strike mortal wounds {attack; offensiva} or to make a secure defense against the same {defense; difensiva}. Viggiani confirms this by stating, “I designate offensive or difensive, according to the purpose.” (Swanger, pg. 24)

What differentiates the purpose of the guard, whether it is offensive or defensive is the guard’s position. If it is on the right, then it is offensive, if it's on the left it’s defensive.

ROD: I will tell it to you: every guard formed on the left side will be called “difensiva”, and all of those on the right side will have the name “offensiva”; accordingly any time that the sword will be found on the left side (with the right foot in front, nonetheless, which we always assume, as much in guardia larga, as in stretta), still, whether the arm be found higher, or less narrow, or lower than it between the stretta, and the larga, that will be understood as a defensive guard, and will be for defense; and all the times in which the sword will be found by the right side (also with the right foot forward) both in guardia alta perfetta and in imperfetta, both in guardia stretta and in larga, either were it then among the alta, and the stretta, or between the stretta, and the larga, provided that the sword should be by the right side, such a guard will always be understood as offensive, and will be in order to offend. This will be our rule, and hold it fixed in your memory. (Viggiani; Swanger, pg. 33)

This sense of purpose informs its substance, and can therefore be further categorized as its most essential genus. It is the highest kind in Viggiani's Schermo. That means that further diferentia or genus of the guard—the accidentals—will not change the purpose or the substance.

This speciation has two more key genera, they are perfetta and imperfetta. Simply defined a perfect guard has its point on-line and an imperfect guard has its point off-line. While these two categories are accidental and don't change the purpose of the guard, they have their own subset of differentia, and are therefore a genus.

Viggiani differentiates between the two based on their potentiality. We’ve already defined a guard as a position of rest; calm and settled, with the potential to either attack or defend. What comes from said guard or position of rest is motion. As such, one can reason that it’s quality is defined by it’s potential motion or it’s Dunamis (δύναμις).

Regarding perfecta, Viggiani says:

CON: Why is it called “perfetta”?

ROD: Oh, didn’t I tell you that you need to turn the point of your sword toward my chest? Look, because it engenders the thrust, one calls it “perfetta”; but if indeed it principally engenders the thrust, nonetheless from it is easily born the {cut}…

Regarding imperfetta, Viggiani says:

CON: Why is it called “imperfetta”?

ROD: Because it does not give rise to a thrust, but only a cut, and therefore is of less offense, and I will avoid it more easily

The differentia between the two qualities are: can thrust, cannot thrust, can cut. A guard that is perfetta can both thrust and cut, while a guard that is imperfetta cannot thrust and can cut. These outcomes—derived from the potentiality of the guard—when actualized are the kinēsis (κίνησις).

To some these differentiations will seem absurd, they'll reasonably argue that from x or y point off-line guard they can still thrust. While that can be true and Viggiani acknowledges this, it lacks proper cause. That is, Aristotle differentiates between potentiality and possibility. Possibilities are predicated on a series of actions coming together to create the potentiality, where potentialities already have the necessary materials in place. To relate this back to our guards, a point on-line position has already satisfied the prerequisites for delivering a thrust, while point off-line position would require some motion of the edge (cut) to bring the point on target. Therefore, point position is the coincident, or necessary condition for the thrust.

The word that Viggiani uses here is ‘partorisce’ or ‘partorirà’, this generally translates as: to give birth to, or to be prepared to labor, or to be in the throws of childbirth, it is the potentiality not the possibility, as all the prerequisites of child rearing, term and conception have been satisfied.14 It can also be translated as: to produce in an intellectual manner—a well conceived thought—in a sardonic manner. This again satisfies the potentiality; with the prerequisite of intellectually acting as the coincidental. In modern translations of Viggiani it’s often rendered as ‘engenders’ or ‘gives rise to’ by Swanger, Leoni, Chidester, et al.

Furthermore, Viggiani clarifies that point off-line and wide guard positions; notably guardia defensiva imperfetta larga (porta di ferro larga), while being capable of the thrust, leaves the fencer too exposed, and is therefore imperfect beyond it’s potential, it’s imperfect in it’s purpose.

ROD: …Now we go to the defensive guards; either they give rise to a thrust, or a cut; if a thrust, they are called “perfect”, and have a single type which we call “difensiva, perfetta, stretta”. If they give rise to a cut, it will either be wide, or less wide; if quite wide, it will be holding the sword girded at the side, and we say that it is “guardia difensiva, imperfetta”. If it is less wide, we call it “difensiva, imperfetta, larga”.

CON: Won’t this last guard give rise to a thrust? Why do you therefore want to call it “imperfetta”?

ROD: You are correct; but we call it “imperfetta” because you uncover your body too much to the enemy, and through being very wide, you can use it in other ways than in delivering a thrust.

One doesn’t need to look far in the Bolognese corpus to understand what Viggiani is referring to when he says, “in other ways than in delivering the thrust.” Achille Marozzo, Antonio Manciolino, and Giovanni dall’Agocchie all use the rising false edge from Porta di Ferro as a key function of their fencing system(s).

To conclude, the presence of the prerequisites, the coincidentals required for full potentiality and purpose, inform the perfection and imperfection of the position.

The final differentia is characteristic of form and belongs in the category of relativity. This will have a more familiar ring for the student of Bolognese fencing: Alta; high, stretta; narrow/low, larga; wide. Viggiani asserts the following, “larghe, strette, or alte, according to the form.” One could reduce these to higher than, narrow/low, and lower than or wider than. This notion, in a sense, satisfies part of Boccadiferro's observation that Rodomonte’s Schermo addresses both the most perfect potentiality and every other inferior potentiality, where a potentiality is a guard, and perfect and inferior represent the infantesimal possibilities inbetween. As differentia, these variations of position are also accidental, in that one could change the relation of the guard; alta, stretta, larga, and not change the purpose of the guard.

Thus we have a full taxonomy of seven guards: substance; offensive or defensive, genus; perfect or imperfect, and a characteristic set of differentia: alte, stretta, and larga. When combined they form seven species of guards.

ROD: The first is called “guardia difensiva, imperfetta”;

The second, “guardia alta, perfetta, offensiva”;

The third, “guardia alta, imperfetta, offensiva”;

The fourth, “guardia larga, imperfetta, difensiva”;

The fifth, “guardia stretta, perfetta, difensiva”;

The sixth, “guardia larga, imperfetta, offensiva”;

The seventh, “guardia stretta, offensiva, perfetta”

What Angelo Viggiani has accomplished with this logical erudition addresses the first half of the statement from the anonymous author, quoted above, “{S}o that when you find yourself against an enemy, you can immediately identify how he keeps his sword, the placement being from the infinite and innumerable ends of the various attacks and modes that vary from that guard to another…,” which was echoed in Rodomonte’s explanation to Conte de Agomonte that, “there can be an infinity of settlements and positions(.)”

The objective is to give the fencer a quick read on what is being communicated by their opponents guard position, while also giving them knowledge of the potentiality of the guard they hold. This account solves the problem of infinitesimal variation, by identifying the pertinent characteristics and reducing them down to their base potential. Viggiani concludes:

ROD: Behold: a man can have his arms either on the right side, or on the left side. If on the right side, it will be called an offensive guard; if on the left side, it will be called an defensive guard. The guardia offensiva, perfetta gives rise to a thrust or a cut; if it gives rise to a thrust, it will be called “offensiva perfetta”; if a cut, “offensiva imperfetta”. The guardia offensiva perfetta will either be done high or low. If it is done high, it is said to be “offensiva perfetta, alta”; if it is done low, “offensiva, perfetta, stretta”. The offensiva imperfetta will either be done high or low. If it is done high it will be called “offensiva, imperfetta, alta”; if low, “offensiva imperfetta larga”. Now we go to the defensive guards; either they give rise to a thrust, or a cut; if a thrust, they are called “perfect”, and have a single type which we call “difensiva, perfetta, stretta”. If they give rise to a cut, it will either be wide, or less wide; if quite wide, it will be holding the sword girded at the side, and we say that it is “guardia difensiva, imperfetta”. If it is less wide, we call it “difensiva, imperfetta, larga”.

Now, let’s explore how he reduces the actualization of each guards potential.

Logic of Viggiani’s kinēsis (κίνησις):

In the process of reducing the guards down to their potential to construct his schermo, Viggiani also reduced the actualization of their potential, and gave what he deemed to be the best actions from each guard position. To better understand this logical digression we first have define action:

BOC: It could additionally be said that each action is between two potentialities, and each potentiality is between two actions, because the strike, while it is being a guard, is not yet an action, it is a potentiality; then, once the blow is actually thrown, it is an action.

This is Aristotle's kinēsis. Mohan defines this in the following way, “In Aristotle’s system (Physics III 1-3), a kinēsis is an agent-initiated change that has well-defined starting and ending termini,” furthermore he states, “Kinēsis always has an agent and a patient (or thing acted upon).”

The efficacy of this agent-initiated change is determined by the form and purpose of the guard. As outlined above, Viggiani determines that point-online guard can thrust and cut, and a point off-line guard can cut. Let's take a look at how Viggiani defines his cuts and thrusts.

Of the principle attacks, Viggiani—like his predecessors Marozzo and Manciolino—reduces them down to three, they are: a mandritto; from the right, rovescio; from the left, and punta; a thrust. In the text Rodomonte and Conte de Agomonte proceed to argue in some length about this sense of nominalism. Rodomonte concedes that there are various differentia based on edge; true or false, angulation: fendente, montante, squalimbrato, tondo, and ridoppio {ascendente}, and an infinitesimal number of variations in-between, but concludes that all attacks can be reduced to those three. This should sound familiar.

After applying the same logic to the falso and fendente, the conversation continues to thrusts as well: a thrust originating from the left being a punta rovescia and a thrust coming from the right a punta dritta, low to high or high to low; punta ascendente and discendente respectively, while he defines a stocatta as starting straight and terminating either left or right, and the punta ferma as not terminating at all.

In the end he concludes that there are two families of strike; two genera: thrust and cut. The second genera is with what edge the blow is performed; false or true. The true edge cuts have differentia of angulation based on the three division of space (rising, falling, and in-between: rising; ascendente, high to low at an angle (ie. left to right or right to left); squalimbrato, left to right or right to left; tondo, and simply high to low; descendente. The family of falso follow the same logic, but add falso to their name to differentiate them. While the trust have two genera, starting with direction: left; rovescia, right; dritta, and middle stocatta; which has its own differentia: terminates either left or right or doesn't terminate at all; being ferma. The second family is based on rising; ascendente or falling; descendente. To which Rodomonte adds:

However, if you mix together these types, there are born thereof other imperfect blows, made up of these, such as mezi mandritti, tramazzoni, false feints, jabs, and plenty of other blows, reducible nonetheless to this Tree, which I now present to you for your gratification.

If that seems like a lot—it is. Conte takes this deluge of information and concedes to Rodomonte’s reduction, but rhetorically quips that by his logic there are but two strikes, a thrust and a cut; as they are the highest kind. However, Rodomonte is adamant that there are three; mandritto, rovescio, and punta. This is deceptively a key point. So let's take a moment to examine it.

The presentation of this article doesn't follow the same progression of Viggiani’s text, he demonstrates his Schermo by discussing the cuts and thrusts, advantage, tempo, guards, and concludes by presenting his Schermo. I've started with the guards, and discussed the cuts, with the express intent of highlighting something that I touched on in my previous article, nominalism in defense. Understanding the logic of Viggiani’s guards empowers the reader to understand the potentiality; Dunamis (δύναμις), purpose (σκοπός), and form of the guards. With that in mind, when we view the actualization of that and purpose—the kinēsis (κίνησις)—we better perceive an interesting determination about the expected realization of that purpose. That is, guards on the left are more apt to produce a roverso and guards on the right are more apt to produce a mandritto, just like our guards that are perfetta; point on-line, are imbued with the requisite coincidentals to actualize a thrust.

Akin to this, rovescio are attributed as defensive blows; because they originate on the left, and mandritto are attributed as offensive blows; because they originate on the right.

ROD: …“defensive”, because the rovescio is a defensive blow, originating from the left side. (pg. 42)

And…

ROD: …“Offensiva” it is, then, through being on the right side, from whence (as I have told you many times) are born all the offensive guards and blows.

What Viggiani has done is taken the universal form of the guards and their particulars, and added the predictive value of potential. In this sense it deconstructs the previously argued Okhamist nominalism; present in Marozzo eg., in order to justify its conclusion. That is, it identifies the particulars that instantiate the universals, by means of speciation, and assigns value based on potential and purpose, thus rendering a purposeful change (frequens motus), with the aim of entelechy (ἐντελέχεια); which can be defined as: to have completed the potential of or to have made perfect. Where perfection would be the satisfaction of purpose and potential.

Viggiani explores this potentiality, and assigns entelechies to each of the guards. To Prima guardia difensiva imperfetta (with the sword in the scabbard) he assigns the rovescio ascendente. His justification for this is that when drawing the sword from the scabbard, a rising rovescio will cover and the point will aim at the chest of the adversary.

From there you will have formed guardia alta, offensiva perfetta {guardia di alicorno}. It’s perfect blow is the punta sopramano offensiva; either complete or incomplete.15 There is a bit of snappy dialogue between Rodomonte and Boccadiferro that’s too juicy to pass up:

ROD: With the very same rovescio I would beat aside the blow of his sword toward the air, and toward my right side, and then settling into the said guardia alta, perfetta, et offensiva, I would thrust the readied point into his chest.

BOC: If you were quick, and he slow.

ROD: If one has understanding, then there is no need for him to already be asleep.

He advocates for this punta sopramano because it instills fear; with the point at the level of the enemies eyes, it’s fast, it can be done in one tempo, and because Vegetius said that thrusts are the best.

Similarly, one could form Guardia alta imperfetta {guardia alta}, which gives rise to a full mandritto that ends in guardia larga, difensiva, imperfetta {porta di ferro larga}. From there you should do a rovescio ritondo, which fulfills it’s purpose as a defensive blow and ends back in guardia offensiva perfetta. Then you could throw an imbroccata sopramano offensiva; which has the same turns of the body as the punta sopramano offensiva, but it ends in guardia stretta, difensiva, perfetta {porta di ferro stretta}, and he adds that a mezzo mandritto, offensivo, imperfetto from guardia alta imperfetta is another means of forming daid guard. From here Viggiani’s ideal blow is a mezo rovescio tondo; as this cut is ideal for executing his schermo, but he also discusses the punta rovescia ascendente. Due to the nature of the perfect schermo, he only mentions guardia stretta, offensiva, perfetta (coda lunga stretta) and guardia larga, offensiva, imperfetta (coda lunga larga), as the endpoint of a rovescio, and says from both guards a fencer is best suited to reset into guardia alta, offfensiva, perfetta, though they have the potential of delivering every offensive action.

• Guardia Difensiva Imperfetta: rovescio ascendente

• Guardia Alta Perfetta Offensiva: punta sopramano offensiva; complete -or- incomplete

• Guardia Alta Imperfetta, Offensiva: full mandritto -or- mezo mandritto

• Guardia Larga Imperfetta Difensiva: rovescio ritondo

• Guardia Stretta Perfetta Difensiva: mezo rovescio; which ends in guardia stretta offensiva perfetta, -or- rovescio; which ends in guardia larga imperfetta offensiva, -or- punta rovescia ascendente

The Perfect Schermo

To achieve the highest kind of fencing Angelo Viggiani reduces all of the guards and cuts we’ve discussed so far down to an ideal form—his perfect schermo. Two guards, and two cuts.

To begin, Rodomonte and Conte discuss whether it is better to attack or defend, to which Rodomonte concludes that it is more noble to attack. Note, that this isn’t attacking in the sense of provocation that’s common from authors like Marozzo or Giovanni dall’Agocchie, but more akin to seizing the misura di ferire; ala Manciolino’s stringere of space, dall’Agocchie's defenses, and Capo Ferro’s seeking measure. In that, the goal is to assume and settle in your position of potential, and attack the opponent in their approach when they are most disadvantaged; due to the necessity of discommoding oneself in the process of seeking measure and the likelihood of rendering tempos of attack in said pursuit.

As this is the tactical paradigm that Viggiani perceives to be the highest order of fencing, his Perfect Schermo is adept at satisfying both an offensive and defensive potential from a position of advantage.

ROD: …I tell you that this is my schermo, composed of the most perfect offense, and of the most perfect guards that there are, namely the guardia alta, offensiva, perfetta, and the punta sopramano, offensiva, perfettissima. There you have also the rovescio tondo, a good defensive blow, and the guardia difensiva larga.

Notice that there is a disparity of hierarchy. You have a perfect guard; guardia alta offensiva perfetta, and the perfect blow; punta sopramano offensiva perfettissima, but you have an imperfect terminal guard; guardia difensiva larga, and a “good” defensive cut; rovescio tondo. Because of his established hierarchy, the rovescio tondo from guardia difensiva larga is elevated among the others, because it best facilitates a return to guardia alta offensiva perfetta and the potential punta sopramano offensiva perfettissima.

Conte challenges Rodomonte with a number of scenarios that he addresses by describing the versatility of guardia alta offensiva perfetta, and advises the incorporation of guardia stretta difensiva perfetta instead of its larga variant when you expect to be attacked.

Overall his reduction of the position to maximize it's potential; Dunamis (δύναμις), can best be perceived through the realization of that potential; kinēsis (κίνησις), and it's perfect completion; entelechy (ἐντελέχεια). Thus the focus is facilitating the punta sopramano offensiva perfettissima, which is born from the rovescio tondo, and in Viggiani’s estimation can be done in one fluid tempo. The resulting terminal, be it stretta or larga, is determined by the position or reaction of the opponent, but as accidentals don't change the purpose of the greater schermo.

Thus we can reduce his perfect shcermo in the following way:

Guardia alta offensiva perfetta > Punta sopramano offensiva (perfect/imperfect) > Guardia (larga/stretta) difensiva (imperfetta/perfetta)> Rovescio Tondo (ritondo) > Guardia alata offensiva perfetta

Conclusion: The Soldier and the Philosopher

The presentation of Viggiani’s dialogue through the voice of Ludovico Boccadiferro; a paragon of the great Bentovoglio sponsored Bolognese Philosophers, Luigi Rodomonte Gonzaga; a stalwart Italian courtier and captain, and Conte de Agomonte; a renowned Burgundian knight and member of the Order of the Golden Fleece, demonstrates the purpose of the authors work. His schermo is a union of the hardened reality of a battlefield veteran, with the scholastic logia of the philosopher, and his audience are the courtiers of the ever expansive and powerful Habsburg-led Holy Roman Empire; encompassing Spain, the Netherlands, Germany, Hungary, northern and southern Italy, and swaths of the Mediterranean.

Lo Schermo tackled the challenge of communicating a local tradition to a broader international audience. To accomplish this, Viggiani utilized the philosophical principles of Aristotle to communicate form, purpose, potential, tempo, and advantage; the core tenants that he understood instantiated the milu of fencing in a common language. His work is a masterpiece—a proof of his knowledge of scholastic wisdom, and Bolognese martial arts.

While his perfect schermo reduces the logia of the ancient art fostered by Filippo Dardi, Guido Antonio di Luca, Giovanni Filoteo Achillini, Antonio Manciolino, and Achille Marozzo before him, down to its base principles and categories, and is at times critical of its proclivities, it is a representation of the art, albeit reduced and categorized with layers of Aristotelian, Averröist, Okhamist, and Brabantian philosophical underpinnings.

To some this can be viewed as a departure. Where a work delicately modified to meet the shifting landscape present in the fencing of the day like Giovanni dall’Agocchie's, Dell'Arte di Scrima Libri Tre, is more sentimental and pure. But even dall’Agocchie couldn’t resist co-opting Viggiani’s perfect schermo in his section titled, How to Prepare a Man for a Point of Honor in a Short Time.16

This is likely due to the respect shown for Angelo Viggiani’s masterpiece by the Knights of Viola; who purchased, reprinted, and recirculated his work in 1588, with a new dedication to one of their principles members and founders Pirro III Malvezzi; himself a stalwart Ghibelline and distinguished patrician among the noble Bolognese houses.

The philosophical underpinnings of the work are themselves a recognition of the endeavors of Alessandro Achillini, his brother Giovanni Filoteo Achillini, Ludovico Boccadiferro, and Achille Bocchi. It is, in many ways, a satisfaction of Giovanni Filoteo Achillini’s Viridario, or garden of the mind. A combination of rhetoric, philosophy, martial excellence, and chivalric ideologies. The values of the Bentivoglio court he wished to reinvent in the wake of the collapse of the Bentivoglio signoria.

Thus, in spite of its revolutionary reinvention, it is a love letter to the fertile grounds that rendered it's component parts. It's a satisfaction of the expectation of a Renaissance courtier in the form of a Perfect Schermo. A masterpiece composed by a consummate soldier and philosopher.

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Works Cited:

1. Swanger, Jherek. “The Schermo of Angelo Viggiani dal Montone of Bologna.” 2002. Digital.

2. Fratus, Stephen. “With Malice and Cunning: Anonymous 16th Century Manuscript on Bolognese Swordsmanship.” Lulu Press. 18 February 2020. Print.

3. Swanger, Jherek. “The Duel, or the Flower of Arms for Single Combat, Both Offensive and Defensive, by Achille Marozzo.” Lulu Press. 22 April 2018. Print.

4. Leoni, Tom. “The Complete Renaissance Swordsman: Antonio Manciolino's Opera Nova (1531)” Freelance Academy Press. 27 May 2015. Print.

5. Swanger, Jherek. Giovanni dall’Agocchie, Dell’Arte di Scrimia, “The Art of Defense: on Fencing, the Joust, and Battle Formation”, lulu press, May 5, 2018. Digital.

6. Swanger, Jherek. “How to Fight and Defend with Arms of Every Kind, by Antonio Manciolino.” Lulu Press. 4 February 2021. Print.

7. Fratus, Stephen. “The Monomachia: The Fencing System of Francesco Altoni.” Art of Arms Press. 1 September 2024. Print.

8. Termiello, Piermarco & Pendragon, Joshua. “The Art of Fencing; The Discourse of Camillo Palladini.” The Royal Armories. October 2019. Print.

9. Vizzani, Pompeo. Historie di Bologna: I due ultimi libri delle historie della sua patria, Volume 2. Italy, Rossi, 1608.

10. Giordani, Gaetano. Della venuta e dimora in Bologna del sommo Pontifice Clemente VII. per la coronazione di Carlo V. Imperatore: celebrata l'anno 1800 cronaca. Italy, Alla Volpe, 1842.

11. Armstrong, Edward. The Emperor Charles V. Contributor, Robarts - University of Toronto. vol. 1. London: Macmillan, 1910.

12. Guidicini, Giuseppe. Cose notabili della città di Bologna: ossia Storia cronologica de' suoi stabili. Italy, Tip. di G. Vitali, 1869. Digital.

13. Augros, Michael. ‘The Opening Line Of Aristotle’s Metaphysics.’” Thomas Aquinas College, January 26th, 2022. www.thomasaquinas.edu/news/dr-michael-augros-opening-line-aristotles-metaphysics. Accessed 3/5/2025.

14. The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Form | Definition, Nature and Examples.” Encyclopedia Britannica, 20 July 1998, www.britannica.com/topic/form-philosophy.

15. Studtmann, Paul. "Aristotle’s Categories", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2024 Edition), Edward N. Zalta & Uri Nodelman (eds.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2024/entries/aristotle-categories/>.

16. Boylan, Michael. Aristotle: Biology. Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Marymount University. https://iep.utm.edu/aristotle-biology/#:~:text=%E2%80%9CHuman%E2%80%9D%20is%20the%20species%2C,between%20various%20types%20of%20animals.

17. Matthen, Mohan (2014). Aristotle's Theory of Potentiality. In John P. Lizza, Potentiality: Metaphysical and Bioethical Dimensions. Baltimore: Jhu Press. pp. 29-48.

18. Smith, Robin, "Aristotle’s Logic", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2022 Edition), Edward N. Zalta & Uri Nodelman (eds.), URL = <https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2022/entries/aristotle-logic/>

19. Gill, Mary Louise. Definitions in Greek Philosophy; Division and Definition in Plato’s Sophist and Statesman. Oxford Scholarship Online, September 2010.

20. Rotondò, Antonio. BOCCADIFERRO, Ludovico; Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani - Volume 11 (1969). Treccani.it. Web.

21. Niccoli, Ottavia. VIZZANI, Pompeo; Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani - Volume 100 (2020). Treccani.it. Web.

22. Tamalio, Raffaele. GONZAGA, Luigi; Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani - Volume 57 (2001). Treccani.it. Web.

23. Mazzetti, Serafino. Repertory of all the ancient and modern Professors of the famous University, and of the famous Institute of Sciences of Bologna. St Thomas Aquinas Press, 1847. Digitized 8/31/2018. Digital. https://play.google.com/books/reader?id=JO65z7Al_uYC&pg=GBS.PA322&hl=en_GB

To deliver the attack or not to deliver the attack that is the question…

The art of Bolognese fencing has two predicates for safely executing an attack—provocation and riposte—and one objective, tempo. In order to immerse ourselves in the complexity of the underlying theory behind these two terms, we’ll first have to define a number of principles.

• Tempo: Any movement of the sword or the body.1

• Provocation: Cutting or thrusting to entice the opponent to depart their fixed guard.2

• Advantage: You or the opponent are in advantage when3…

  • You are fixed in guard, and have your point directed toward your opponent.4

  • Are within a half or full step and can strike.5

  • Have or can perform(ed) a gathering step to attain the requisite measure.6

• Disadvantage: You or the opponent are in disadvantage when…

  • You are not fixed in guard or have your point off-line in the presence of the opponent.

  • Are greater than a full step from your opponent; i.e., it would require a step and another motion of the feet to strike them.

  • Are performing a passing step to strike, or are lifting your sword to strike.

• Invitation: Encouraging the opponent to attack you by creating the perception of disadvantage, or giving them the feeling they are in advantage.

Determining Your Role:

The onset of every fencing bout is a race to advantage. This can be simulated by the tiered circles of the segno, where the first fencer to attain the center circle holds advantage. Alas, as Camillo Palladini points out, one can't use a compass in disputes.7 So how do we determine our role in a four-dimensional environment?

One can cut this Gordian knot by defaulting to fencing with advantage; i.e., assuming the role of the defender foremost, and only attacking when the opponent also attempts to fence with advantage.8 By doing so, you won't find yourself attacking when you should be defending.

Moving forward I will categorize who is in advantage versus who is in disadvantage by simply calling the fencer in advantage the defender and the fencer in disadvantage the attacker. This is a gross oversimplification, but it will serve to simplify the roles of each fencer before we broaden the tactical scope.

The Role of the Attacker:

The role of the attacker can be defined rather simply, but the metaphysics that underlie the principle have the potential to become infinitely complex. As such I'm going give the simple definition first, along with the supporting text, followed by some general guidelines, and then we’ll dive into the principles that substantiate the metaphysics.

The role of the attacker is to continuously seek openings until they have achieved an advantageous (strong) position or have gained enough tempo that they can safely strike the person of the defender without recourse.

All of the Bolognese authors advise that at the onset of the fight your eyes should be fixed on your opponent’s sword hand. This advice comes with a number of advantages:

1. It allows you to perceive how your opponent wants to proceed9: i.e., guards on the left are defensive, guards on the right are offensive (offensiva, difensiva: Viggiani), point on-line can cut and thrust, point off-line can cut (perfecto; imperfecto: Viggiani).10

2. As the defender, you can use your knowledge of the opponent’s guard position to act quickly in accordance with the perceived attack.11

3. As the attacker, you will use the motion or lack of motion of your opponent’s sword hand as an indication as to how you should continue your attack.

As the attacker, you are generally advised to change guard frequently before entering measure to disguise the nature of your attack.12 Note that these guard changes should be performed out of measure, and only as a means to conceal your intended attack or as an invitation; this is defined as an embellishment.13

Once you have assumed the guard you wish to attack in, and you are within measure to threaten an opening, then you should begin your attack. A way to visualize available targets is to imagine the body of the opponent passing through a plane.

As the distance between you and your opponent narrows, more targets become available—which is true for both you and your opponent. This is where getting too close to an opponent who is in advantage becomes dangerous. On account of their stillness, they may act in the tempo of your approach, and deliver an attack. The closer you are to an advantaged fencer (the defender), the more openings you afford them to attack in tempo.

The first rule of attacking is that in the course of an attack which threatens a deep target, your sword must cover that of your opponent. That is, you must first be in a position of strength before you extend to strike, thereby weakening yourself.14

This strong position can be simply defined as a crossing. In Viggiani, this is outlined as advantage of guard, where your point is on-line and takes your opponent’s point off-line, though there is some complexity here that needs to be explained. In Altoni, this is simply referred to as a counter posture. In many of the later rapier fencing manuals, this is an obligare.

Putting the terminology aside for a moment, let's discuss how to achieve a crossing, and ensure our attacks attain a strong position. In order to do this effectively we must define some terms:

• Mechanical advantage: You are in mechanical advantage when the strong of the sword (middle of the blade to the hilt) is on the weak of the opponent’s (middle of the blade to the point), or your edge is on your opponent’s flat.

• Biomechanical advantage: Simply put, a fencer has biomechanical advantage when they use larger muscle groups (hips, back, shoulders) to overcome smaller muscle groups (hand, wrist, forearm).

• Strengthening: Coming to a place of mechanical or biomechanical advantage—preferably both.

• Weakening: Forming a weak guard to redirect the opponent’s sword away, or leaving a disadvantageous bind; cutting to a new opening or disengaging around the blade (sfalsata or cavazione)

The sword and the body must work together—always. This begins by connecting the sword hand to the arm, the arm to the shoulder, and the shoulders to the hips, which will make the back foot the rudder of your ship.15 This is a portion of what Manciolino calls this Gravi and Appostati: being well-composed in the right posture.

In a modern, sports science framework, we would call this chaining your actions; i.e., allowing different muscle groups to perform subsequent actions in a sequence.

An exercise that will help illustrate this follows: assume Coda Lunga Stretta, with the back heel raised and the back toe pointed toward the opponent, the profile of the hips facing toward the opponent. Then, without moving the sword hand or sword arm, only the heel of the back foot, transition between Coda Lunga Stretta and Porta di Ferro Stretta, by closing the back foot; i.e., bring the heel down so the feet form a 90° angle. The goal is to not move the sword hand at all, only the hips. (Note: your point will drift outside, and that's okay)

Now that you’re comfortable with that, try the same exercise with a partner. Have your partner stand in front of you with their sword in a low, but extended position toward you. Standing in Coda Lunga Stretta, transition to Porta di Ferro Stretta, only moving the back foot, and find your opponents sword. Congratulations, you have now found your opponent with both mechanical and biomechanical advantage. Better yet, you have initiated your attack with only one third of the available biomechanical chain.

The same exercise can be replicated with a cut. From Coda Lunga Stretta, raise the sword hand to a Guardia Alicorno or Beca Cesa position, and when you want to deliver your blow, close the back foot, and pull the pommel of you sword into your hip. With a half turn of the hand—palm out—accompanied by a turn of the foot; and thereby the hips, you'll pull back into a position to deliver another cut.

A way that this is often communicated is that an attack should target the opposite shoulder of the opponent; i.e., an attack originating from your right side should target your opponent’s right shoulder, and an attack originating from your left side should target the opponent’s left shoulder. This is advice that’s more appropriate for cuts than thrusts.

For a thrust, the point should directed past the outside of the shoulder over the opponent’s sword. Then, when a strong position is achieved—i.e., you’ve performed a half turn with the body by turning on the ball of the back foot—you can make a half turn of the hand from a palm-in to a palm-up position as you extend forwards with a half step and a hinge of the hips, bringing the lead shoulder forward.

Because this is Bolognese fencing16, the inverse of this; i.e., a find to the outside, will lead with the false edge of the sword. This can be done with structure, by simply raising the sword arm from Porta di Ferro to shoulder height (x axis), and allowing the hips to pull the sword across the y axis; utilizing a turn of the back foot to move the hips. The resulting guard position will be Guardia di Faccia; thus a falso that does not go past Guardia di Faccia. This can be visualized in the following way:

From this position, you can make a half turn of the hand, from a palm-up to a palm-down position, and your point will go from an off-line position, to an on-line position. It’s advised that you complete your motion to a position of strength (i.e., Guardia di Faccia) before making the mezza volta (half turn) of the hand.

From this position of strength, any extension of the sword away from the body with a thrust or a cut that intends to reach the opponent will be inherently weak—even with mechanical advantage. This is primarily due to the support of smaller muscle groups; i.e., moving down the chain. When the hands are close to the body, they're more connected to larger muscle groups in the back, shoulders, and core. When you extend the sword away, then the sword is supported by the shoulders, back (specifically the latissimus dorsi), and forearms. Due to your extension toward the person of the opponent, the opponent’s parry is more likely to involve larger muscle groups; i.e., they will be drawing their weapon in, and they will naturally have more biomechanical advantage.

Understanding this relationship will help you make a judicious decision about when to extend forward with an attack. If you are in a weak position, or haven't fully strengthened; i.e., completed your guard change, then you will be weakening from a place of neutrality or, worse, a position of weakness, which will allow the opponent to quickly overpower your attack.

Moving to place of strength at the outset of each attack will achieve two goals:

1. It will limit the opponent’s contratempo opportunities—ending neutral most of the time.

2. It will oblige the opponent to strengthen to neutralize the threat or weaken to attain a more advantageous position; wherein you may act in tempo.

The Branches of Trees are Rooted in if

If your opponent allows you to achieve a strong position in your initial find, then you can extend forward and attack the person of your opponent.

• If they strengthen while you are weakening; i.e., extending to strike, then:

  • You can weaken further (with purpose, redirecting their strength away from you) and perform a mezza spada action.

  • You can weaken (cut to a new opening, sfalsata, etc.) and seek a new opening.

If your opponent starts to strengthen in the tempo of your find (your strengthening); you should weaken and seek a new opening, maintaining Frequens Motus, until a strong position is achieved, whereby you may extend forward and deliver an attack (weakening), thus starting the cycle over again.

If your opponent starts to weaken (sfalsata, cuts to a new line, wrenches, or attacks) in the tempo of your find (your strengthening); you should perform a beat on their sword or move to a strong position that intercepts or controls their weapon. In effect this is a role reversal, and you’ll have to work to regain control of the opponents weapon before proceeding with any attacks.

Frequens Motus, at its core, is continuously threatening new openings until the opponent makes a mistake, and allows you to gain advantage—a position of strength. But it's more than that. At the beginning, we established that all of the Bolognese authors advise watching the opponent’s sword hand. This continues past the onset, until you're close enough to your opponent where the left hand becomes the most prominent threat.

When you see that the opponent starts to parry (strengthen), you should seek a new opening in the tempo of their parry (weaken); as they move to parry this new attack (strengthen), you should seek the next opening in the tempo of their parry, until you can achieve a strong position.17 The objective here is moving before the opponent finishes their strengthening action. In theory, each subsequent attack will gain tempo until you're far enough ahead of your opponent that a strong position is achieved, and you may extend forward with your attack.

Marozzo describes this phenomenon like this:

Marozzo insinuates that you want to catch your opponent in the tempo of them raising to or lowering from their guard position, with the objective of not allowing the opponent to become fixed in a guard position. This is Frequens Motus.

This is the core tenet of provocation.

Therefore, a provocation should start by moving to achieve a strong position: using both forms of structure, keeping the eyes on the sword hand of the opponent, and reacting in accord to their movement or lack of movement. This loops back to our tree of ifs outlined above. The cycle perpetuates until the opponent is so discommoded that you’ve achieved a strong position from which you may attack their person. Or, if you catch them in tempo, they're slow to react, or just don't see the attack, then you may proceed with your attack at the outset.

Manciolino outlines a similar framework, advising:

Manciolino echoes Marozzo’s sentiment of catching the opponent in the tempo of their raising to or lowering into guard. Note the added clarification, he who renews his attack before settling in guard. This is keen advice, which further emphasizes this notion of Frequens Motus. That is, you don't want give up the pursuit of position until you're guaranteed of success.

We can reduce this in a number of different ways: manipulating the opponent out of position, creating a tempo, climbing the opponent’s sword, or forcing them into an instinctual response. Fabris defines this as putting the opponent in obedience.

This method of fencing creates beautiful conversational fencing. It will help you prevent unnecessary doubles, and have more control of what happens in a bout. Sandro Francesco Altoni describes it like this:

The beautiful thing about this theoretical framework of attack is that it's inherently simple—it just takes practice and patience. Your attacks should be simple: mandritto, roverso, stocatta. The complexity of your attack is predicated on the tempo and movement of your opponent, and the relationship of strength and weakness.

Developing an understanding of these principles will also enlighten the more complex attacking actions found in the Bolognese corpus, and bring often overlooked nuance to bear. Take for example the Falso Impuntato: this attack with often originates as a mandritto that seeks to gain a position of strength (Coda Lunga Stretta to Cinghiara Porta di Ferro), meets the strength of the opponent, and weakens amidst their strengthening to snap the false edge toward their temple; as the opponent carries their defense further afield, you can abandon this high-line assault to seek a new opening with a Roverso tondo (Marozzo: sword alone) or a cut to the leg (Marozzo: due spada, sword and large buckler).

The cadence of this attacking theory has its roots in dance. You are both leading the engagement, and following the cues of your dance partner. If you fail to follow the cues of your opponent, and take your eyes off of their sword hand, you’ll lose the plot and act injudiciously. Similarly, if you allow them to complete their strengthening and achieve their desired guard, you've forfeited the lead in the engagement, and now you must change your role.

The Role of the Defender:

Now that we’ve defined the role of the attacker, it's time to do the same for the defender. Ready?

Gain control of the attackers sword.

That's it, done and dusted. Finito.

As simple as the principle of defense is, it is also the most artful and complicated. There is a reason why an author like Manciolino spills so much ink on the art of defense, and lauds the artfulness of defensive fencing. It's hard.

The objective is simple, but the means of effectively executing a successful defensive action are infinitely more complex than the objective they seek to achieve. At a base metaphysical level, we can simply define this as interrupting the opponent’s Frequens Motus.

Fortunately we have pages upon pages of materials to work from, but rather than rehashing countless anecdotes, I'm going to sum it up in a number of key responses (i.e., guard positions) and well thought out principles propounded by the authors themselves.

The first key: watch the opponent’s sword hand. While the Anonimo says that the number of guards are infinite and innumerable, and Marozzo surely does his best to validate that notion, we have an erudite exemplar of keen tactical reason in Angelo Viggiani to guide our way. This was briefly mentioned above, but it bears repeating, and for good measure we’ll add some poignant advice from Antonio Manciolino:

• Point on-line (perfect): Can both cut and thrust.

• Point off-line (imperfect): Can cut.

• Guards on the right: offensive

• Guards on the left: defensive

• Guards that are low: The natural attack is a thrust; and are inherently defensive. (Parry first, then strike)

• Guards that are high: Are inherently offensive. (Strike first; then parry)

Having foreknowledge of the potential of the opponent’s guard position will give you some insight as to how they intend to proceed. This is a keen tactical advantage for the defender. It’s also instructive for how you should proceed in the role of the defender. If you are stationary in guard, inviting the opponent to attack, and remain fixed in advantage, holding a high, wide or inherently offensive guard, then this choice of position comes with a certain amount of risk and needs to be considered in how you react to your opponents movement into measure. Knowing what may come, and what advantages or disadvantages your guard positions holds, will help you choose the correct guard for your parry in order to interrupt the opponents attack and reclaim the initiative, but to do this artfully we need to examine the guards that will help us achieve that objective.

Flipping the Script

There are a few recurring principal guards that the Bolognese authors prefer to interrupt the opponent’s attack, and they are: Guardia di Faccia, Guardia d’Intrare, Porta di Ferro, and Guardia di Testa. Of these principal guards, there are variations of each:

• Porta di Ferro:

  • Porta di Ferro Stretta or Lunga (right foot forward)

  • Cinghiara Porta di Ferro (left foot forward)

• Guardia di Faccia: the direction of the point will be affected by the orientation of the hips. You can try the previously illustrated exercise with the hand in Guardia di Faccia, and see who a turn of the back foot re-orients the sword and covers the line on the inside and outside based on the direction of the hips.

  • Right foot forward, hips forward (parries the outside line)

  • Right foot forward, hips profiled (parries the inside line)

• Guardia d’Intrare: Similar to Guardia di Faccia, the orientation of the hips determines the line that the guard covers.

  • Left foot forward, hips forward (parries the inside line)

  • Left foot forward, hips profiled (parries the outside line)

• Guardia di Testa: Is almost always directing the opponent’s weapon toward the outside line—except dall’Agocchie’s hanging di Testa, which takes the opponent’s weapon to the inside.

This triangle of defense is sufficient to cover the upper half of the body, but there is more to it than that, and it's the hidden nuance that really brings the art to light. Each of these guard transitions, when accompanied with a step or a turn of the hips, has the capability of catching the opponent’s sword and giving the defender the ability to turn their defense into offense. Better yet, keeping your defensive actions within this triangle will allow you to gain tempo on the attacker, by forcing bigger motions from the attacker with each subsequent attack, while forming reliable defense with half (mezza) tempo actions.

The common actions that utilize these guard transitions are omnipresent in the Bolognese corpus: perform a falso that does not go past Guardia di Faccia, execute a mezzo mandritto that goes into Cinghiara Porta di Ferro, parry in Guardia di Testa, so on and do forth.

Returning to the advice of Manciolino at the heading of this section, a common trait shared by these guard positions is the arm being well extended18, going forward. This driving, aggressive defense will often rob the attacker of their initiative, and force a passage of play that will allow the defender to go on the attack.

Now, these defenses have tempos of their own, if you’re reading Viggiani. This is when the opponent is in disadvantage and you are in advantage, if you're reading Giovanni dall’Agocchie. These are the five tempos of attack19.

This is will strike many readers as an odd statement at first, but allow me to explain.

The Five Tempos of Attack:

1. Once you’ve parried your enemy’s blow.

2. When their blow has passed outside your body.

3. When they raise their sword to harm you.

4. As they injudiciously move from one guard to another.

5. When the enemy is fixed in guard, and he raises or moves his forward foot in order to change pace or approach you.

All five of Giovanni dall'Agocchie's tempos of attack can be analyzed through this metaphysical model and Viggiani’s advantages, to render an underlying bias toward defense. This is intentional, and will be further substantiated below. But, for now, let’s view them in their purely defensive connotation.

When you’ve parried your enemy’s blow: Note that with the framework we’ve established, this is predicated on when you’ve halted the momentum of the enemy’s attack. Simply counterattacking when the opponent may have proceeded to another line is not the answer; you’ve made your defense when the Frequens Motus of the attacker has been interrupted. Put more concisely, this is when you have forced a bind. From a metaphysical standpoint, any attack coming forward will be weak, and if you can complete a strengthening action, and overtake the weakness of the attack, then you are obliged to reply with an attack (weakening action) of your own.

When their blow has passed outside your body: This is often perceived from the standpoint of the opponent’s attack missing, or the defender voiding the blow of the attacker, but I would like to add a third, more Bolognese, explanation to this list: when you’ve performed a beat. The droves of praise heaped on the false edge parry, and the devilish delight of driving the opponents weapon toward the ground are a stark reminder of one of the core tenants of the Bolognese fencing. The great 20th century courtier Michael Jackson, whose poetry and fine dancing dazzled the world, perhaps said it best—just beat it. Falsos to Guardia Faccia, and the tendency of Guardia di Testa to help an opponents attack along its desired path, create lots of counterattacking opportunities.

When they raise their sword to harm you: Returning to an earlier quote from Antonio Manciolino on the nature of the guards, where he says, the only natural attack from the low guards is a thrust, we can deduce a number of key things about this tempo of attack. If the opponent is in a low guard and attempts to cut, they will have to raise their hand in some fashion, this can be more of an elbow cut, or a full shoulder cut, and even a wrist cut (though the point usually lowers with a wrist cut). In the time of the opponent’s preparation, you can begin your strengthening action—usually Guardia di Faccia—and interrupt the opponent’s attack; i.e., or when one parries and attacks in one instant, as dall’Agocchie puts it.

The next two certainly have their offensive inclinations, with a potential defender rendering advantage by changing guard in measure or moving forward from a fixed position to follow an attacker, but I’m going to show how these also fit within the framework of defensive tempos to reclaim initiative.

An injudicious guard change: This has two facets that need to be covered. First, if an attacker is approaching the defender, and changes their guard in measure, then the fencer in advantage (the defender) may come forward with an attack in the tempo of the guard change. Second, if an attacker has initiated their attack and strengthens; i.e., changes guard (as the endpoint of every motion is a guard; Viggiani) when they should be weakening, then this is a tempo for the defender to attack. Similarly, if the attacker weakens when they should be strengthening, then this is a tempo to attack. Both examples highlighting an injudicious guard change, or a misread of leverage in the course of an exchange.

When the enemy is fixed in guard, and he raises or moves his forward foot in order to change pace or approach you: If the opponent recognizes your desire to fence with advantage, and they are in a position of advantage (i.e., fixed in guard), then their movement toward you to initiate an attack, or to gain measure so they can begin an attack, is a tempo to leave your position of advantage and attack. This concept is illustrated quite nicely in Capoferro’s Gran Simulacro.

Overall, this concept of fencing with advantage is propounded by a number of authors in the Bolognese corpus, with exemplars like Manciolino, Viggiani, dall’Agochie, and at times Marozzo all lauding the advantage of this defensive style of fencing. It is, as mentioned, the safest way to approach a fight until you have a firm grasp on how your opponent wishes to fence.

If the opponent wishes to attack you while you’re in advantage, then you can use your smaller guard transitions to strengthen and halt the momentum of the opponent’s attack in tempo, whereupon you may then weaken and come forward with an attack of your own. At this point, the roles are reversed, and now you are on the attack, looking to establish frequens motus, and the opponent should be looking to reclaim the advantage by forming quick decisive defensive positions until they have halted the momentum of your attack, whereupon they may resume their attack. If this occurs, the resulting exchange will become conversational, and beautiful.

Like any good conversation, the key to understanding when to speak and when to listen is to be attentive to the cadence of the conversation. If one begins to talk over the other; i.e., goes on attack when it’s not their role to be attacking, or fails to recognize when their offensive momentum is spent, then doubles will often result. A good exercise to reinforce this is to break down each exchange with your fencing partner, and determine whose role was the attacker and whose was the defender during the course of a bout. Then determine whether they were acting within their role when a touch occurred, and use this a constructive mechanism to coach one another during a training session.

Full gear sparring, but you stop after every touch, and talk about what happened using the terminology discussed in this article.

Determine after every exchange:

• From the onset, who was the attacker and who was the defender?

  • If attacker: Were you successful? Why or why not? Did you maintain Frequens Motus?

  • If defender: Were you successful? why or why not? Did you try to interrupt your opponent’s attack?

• If it's a double, then who failed to correctly assess their role? Was it at the onset, or was it after a change in roles in the exchange?

Rotate partners as much as possible.

---

Three General Rules:

1. Watch the opponent’s sword hand

2. If attacking: try to maintain Frequens Motus.

3. If defending: interrupt your opponent’s intention to reclaim initiative.

Third Tier Tactics:

Once you’ve become sufficiently proficient in the two second tier roles, then the tactical complexity of the Bolognese fencing system will open its petals and begin to flower. From there, you can begin to explore the tier three concepts illustrated throughout the corpus.

Provocation as an Invitation

This is best defined as provoking to encourage a counterattack. The reason for this being a higher tier of fencing is simple: if the opponent doesn't understand the concepts outlined above, especially in the role of the defender, then it's not necessary to elicit a counter-attack.

To the contrary, if they're actively trying to interrupt your attack to establish a strong position, so they can counterattack, then using a provocation to lure the opponent into a weak position as they counterattack is an effective tactic. In order to do this effectively you need to have some knowledge of how the opponent is going deliver their follow-up attack.

This knowledge, as the Anonymous author and Manciolino love to say, is born from experience, as experience is the mother of wisdom. In order to enjoy the fruits of wisdom, you must first gain the experience of fencing in both roles. Both the role of the attacker and the defender will render an understanding of how the other should proceed.

From the standpoint of the attacker, you will come to realize how a defender can best interrupt your attack; i.e., you'll understand the tempo you're giving.

From the role of the defender you will learn how to interrupt various attacks and the most appropriate counterattack once that position of strength in achieved.

Having this foreknowledge or wisdom will afford you the ability to devise a counter to the counterattack you're receiving.

For those familiar with the Swiss-born fencing master Joachim Meyer, the cadence of this assault will read similar to his famed Provoker, Taker, Hitter. This framework isn't unique to the Marozzo-inspired late KdF master however; Manciolino propounds a similar ideology. In the quote referenced above, about defending going forward, Manciolino advises that every defense should be followed with an offense, and every offense with a defense.

When we take that advice and apply it to this theoretical model, an attacker would provoke with their strike, then defend the counterattack, whereupon they could come forward with their intended attack (provoke, take, hit), chaining the series of advised progressions together. Similarly, an advantaged fencer may defend, then counterattack, whereupon they'll have to defend (strengthen) from their weak position if the attack does not land, and the cycle continues.

Viggiani calls this back-and-forth, turn-based style, Germanic fencing.

This observation isn't derogatory; both Marozzo and Manciolino had deep ties to the German University in Bologna. One could argue that many of the suppositions proposed of these methods are integration, and some of the techniques that seem to counter them are answers to questions being asked in the process.

Of course, these tactics undoubtedly show up quite a bit with Achille Marozzo in his sword and dagger and two sword sections, which tactically makes sense with the dominance of the dagger and a second sword sword as defensive sidearms. Whereas with the sword alone, and in his sword and buckler/targa sections, we see a more driving offensive style underpinned by keen defensive fencing that seeks to reclaim a dominant position. One trait that the aforementioned chapters of Marozzo's Opera Nova share is a hefty dose of invitation through disadvantageous position.

Invitation of Disadvantage: It's a Trap!

A fencer confident in their skills will often invite an attack by holding a disadvantageous position. A guard like Porta di Ferro Larga is a perfect exemple. The challenge of attacking a point off-line position like Porta di Ferro Larga is outlined by the anonymous author:

This is one of the most succinct pieces of advice for how to attack. However, the reader should note the inverse progression of this quote. When the opponent’s point is on-line you must, by means of feinting, take their point off-line so you can strike them (strong position); if their point is off-line, you must use your art to bring it on-line—so you can take it offline and strike them.

The advantage of wide guards, and thereby wide play, is that the attacker has to work an extra tempo to create a predictable situation. As the attacker, utilizing wide play in your entry denies many of the direct in-tempo attacks an advantaged fencer has at their disposal. The reason is that their first attack must be a threat to draw the attacker’s point on-line before proceeding with any sort of resolution—unless they're suicidal.

With that in mind, an attacker may lure an advantaged fencer into a provocation to get them to relinquish their advantage, and use their own defensive actions to create a complex attack. Some great examples of this can be seen in the entry into mezza spada actions in Manciolino’s sword and small buckler assalti (Book 2), Marozzo’s book two of sword and small buckler (wide play into narrow play), and Marozzo’s sword alone section.

Contratempo:

If the opponent is too capable of contending with these tactics or seems to divine your well-laid traps, then Antonio Manciolino gives some fairly pointed advice on how to deal with them:

Contratempo actions, defined earlier as coming to a defensive position that both parries the opponent’s blow and attacks them in the same tempo, are often characterized as bold fencing actions. Manciolino doesn't shy away from defining similar stakes, stating that you should, take a chance and hope for victory, when resolving to come forward with contratempo actions.

While guards like Guardia di Faccia are notorious for their contratempo capability, the risk that Manciolino is outlining comes more from the timing of the encounter. Here he is specifically talking about a skilled fencer, who is keying on your movement in tempo to alter their line of attack, as outlined above. Therefore, there must be some belief that the strike will land, and by consequence some patience from the defender in letting the strike develop for the attacker to commit.

It's worth pointing out that contratempo actions are fairly easy tactics to employ against unskilled fencers who are too committed in their attacks, but this can easily lead to false confidence that can be exploited by the attacking principles outlined in this article.

The timing required to catch a more astute fencer in contratempo is incredibly minute, and requires a fair amount of risk and confidence. Therefore, they should only be employed as a last resort. While Guardia di Faccia is sure to become a staple in your defensive repertoire, the prudent approach of getting the timing just right is what needs to be tempered until the moment of realization that all of your other tools have been exhausted.

A clearer explanation of this might be found by saying, it’s better to start your motion in a time that will keep you safe and give you time to react if the opponent changes the line of attack, than it would be to risk their attack coming to completion or departing the line when you're in the process of coming forward.

The follow-up to any contratempo counter should be mezza spada, and here Manciolino caps this statement off by advising that, even if this counter fails, you'll be able to quickly employ a grapple of some sort, whereupon you'll be judged the victor.

Mezza spada, or a crossing at or below the middle of the sword to the hilt, is the ultimate objective, and the final destination of many of the above-highlighted actions. Marozzo outlines this nicely in Capitolo 35 of his Opera Nova, where he states:

Now that we’ve discussed the various ways and means of fencing that will lead us to our mezza spada techniques—measure, tempo, and attacking and defending theory—it's time to discuss the art of fencing at the half sword. If you'd like to follow along, take a moment and subscribe. It's free unless you'd like to contribute financially.

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Attribution:

This article is the fruit of hours of practice and patience on behalf of my students, and many more hours lovingly discussing the metaphysics of fencing with my good friend James Reilly, whose influence has had a tremendous impact on my perception of the rules that govern fencing.

Works Cited:

1. Fratus, Stephen. “With Malice and Cunning: Anonymous 16th Century Manuscript on Bolognese Swordsmanship.” Lulu Press. 18 February 2020. Print.

2. Swanger, Jherek. “The Duel, or the Flower of Arms for Single Combat, Both Offensive and Defensive, by Achille Marozzo.” Lulu Press. 22 April 2018. Print.

3. Leoni, Tom. “The Complete Renaissance Swordsman: Antonio Manciolino's Opera Nova (1531)” Freelance Academy Press. 27 May 2015. Print.

4. Swanger, Jherek. Giovanni dall’Agocchie, Dell’Arte di Scrimia, “The Art of Defense: on Fencing, the Joust, and Battle Formation”, lulu press, May 5, 2018. Digital.

5. Swanger, Jherek. “The Schermo of Angelo Viggiani dal Montone of Bologna.” 2002. Digital.

6. Swanger, Jherek. “How to Fight and Defend with Arms of Every Kind, by Antonio Manciolino.” Lulu Press. 4 February 2021. Print.

7. Fratus, Stephen. “The Monomachia: The Fencing System of Francesco Altoni.” Art of Arms Press. 1 September 2024. Print.

8. Termiello, Piermarco & Pendragon, Joshua. “The Art of Fencing; The Discourse of Camillo Palladini.” The Royal Armories. October 2019. Print.

Is it the sword that makes fencing historical? The pluderhosen? The jackets? The shoes? The manuscripts and the treatises? The answer is, in many ways, all the above.

In order to recreate the arts as they were practiced, the objective of the modern partitioner is to explore all of these variables and investigate how they change the outcome of movement and coordination to build a historical martial dynamic. However, just as physical variables can affect the quality of our movement, a Renaissance mindset and an understanding of how scholasticism influenced fencing can affect the way we think about and conceptualize the texts as they were written.

I hope this lecture will be a guide that sparks your curiosity and sends you on a scholastic journey. Let’s begin.

It’s important to understand our inherent biases as modern people. We are the children of the Enlightenment, the Scientific Revolution, the Industrial Revolution, the Computer Revolution, and we sit on the precipice of the AI Revolution.

Every leap in technological and moral reasoning that has advanced society and education over the last 500 years has put a barrier between us and the logic and reason of the ancients.

As you can see with the charts above, one of the more glaring statistical differentiations between our modern world and that of the medieval and Renaissance world is literacy rate. Now, it’s worth noting that these charts may not represent the vulgar linguae or vernacular of a specific population, and that may artificially depress these numbers. However, printing of books in vernacular didn’t really reach its peak until the late 15th into the early 16th century. There were certainly some, but volume and affordability were both facilitated by the spread of mass printing.

Cities with flourishing universities tended to fare better than those without. A rather incomplete but perhaps telling study can be drawn between the city of Florence—the capital of the Italian Renaissance in the popular imagination—and the bustling university city of Bologna.

In Florence at the turn of the 16th century there were anywhere between 2-4 grammarians teaching primary school educations to the youth of the city. By contrast, the commitment to education in Bologna was much more pervasive. In 1385—almost a century earlier—Bologna had 2-3 grammarians assigned to teach each district in the city, of which there were four. By 1439 this climbed to 4 per district; by 1480, 8; and by 1489 the number reached 12 per district for a total of 48 primary school educators city-wide. This effort was funded by the University and had a tremendous impact on the overall education and literacy of city.

The common curriculum of the age included Guarino di Verona’s Regulae, Cato, Ovid, Virgil, Cicero, Macrobius, Homer, and of course Aristotle.

As a consequence, what we tend to see in fencing manuals leading up to the late 15th century is a subjective standard for communicating the rules that govern fencing. These standards were often related in colloquial terms. For example, the names of the guards and leger used common iconography and carried a particular weight that may be unseen to the modern reader but would’ve been apparent to the contemporary practitioner.

One that example I’ve come across recently in my own research is a name we’re all familiar with, Porta di Ferro: the Iron Door. The easy superficial leap is to assume the iron gate of a city or castello, but in my experience the common word for the typical iron latticed gate of a city was referred to as a rastello, and the term Porta di Ferro was more commonly used to denote the heavy solid iron doors of churches and cathedrals, which acted as a safe place of refuge during a sack.

Now, this is a relatively multicultural audience. We all represent different backgrounds and geographical areas of the United States, and perhaps even the world, so let’s do a little exercise.

What is weird tradition your family has related to food?

For me personally, it’s eating sticky buns or cinnamon rolls with chili, and putting peanut butter on waffles: both weird Midwestern-Nebraskan things that make my Southern friends in the great state of North Carolina scratch their heads.

What are some of yours?

Similar regional variations, in things less consequential than food, can affect the way we relate things, or communicate standards across time. What I call BBQ is slow cooked pork marinated in tangy vinegar; what you call BBQ might be lathered in Sweet Baby Ray’s, or slow cooked over wood chips. There are several ways to cook a pig. We all call it BBQ, but we have a few different ways to achieve the same end, and it’s usually predicated on regionality.

Now, let’s dive into the heart of our subject matter.

One author who stands between this subjective age, and what I term the age of empiricism in fencing, is Pietro Monte. Now, given the literacy rate in Spain, for this exercise we’ll assume Monte was from Florence, though that isn’t much of a leg up—I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

Of course, we don’t know much about Monte’s early childhood education. It was probably quite good, though, considering he was a famous and revered courtier and peer of Leonardo da Vinci’s when he was in Milan. In fact, in his Collectanea, Monte gives us some wonderful insight into the world of humoral reasoning. So, let’s take a look.

First postulated by Hippocrates between 460-370 BC, this theory posits that there are four fluids that correspond to the four temperaments. They are blood, yellow bile, black bile, and mucus.

The body, when in homeostasis or balance, had equal portions of each. Imbalances or predilections toward an excess of a specific humor could alter mood, temperament, personality and health. This was the core principle of western medicine until the 19th century. In its development, this reasoning took on an astrological component, where birth sign and the alignment of planetary bodies could have an effect on humoral disposition.

This may seem preposterous by modern medical standards, yet the behavioral characteristics that compose humoral theory have remained the core tenants of western behavioral studies from Eysenck to Myers Briggs, the Ninja Turtles and the houses of Harry Potter.

Much of the continued study of humors dictating a person's temperaments was due to Galen in 190 AD. Galen proposed that the imbalance of pairs of humors resulted in one of the four temperaments.

Sanguine: optimistic and social. Choleric: short tempered and irritable. Melancholic: analytical and quiet. Phlegmatic: relaxed and peaceful. The humors themselves were dominated by the 4 qualities: warm, cold, moist, and dry. Warm and moist rendered a sanguine temperament; cold and dry, melancholic; cold and moist, phlegmatic; and hot and dry, choleric.

Here we have Monte’s dear friend da Vinci standing in for the author with Galen flanking the other side of the chart. What makes Pietro Monte’s work interesting is his application of Galen’s theory to everything from the quality of a horse to the predilection of certain nationalities toward specific temperaments, which he even extends to where men should be positioned in battle formation.

Monte believed that you should be able to spot the traits indicative of a specific temperament and determine an individual's disposition in the lead-up to a fight.

These are some of the characteristics that he highlights:

• Sanguine folks have;: Broad, middling, fleshy face, heads that are neither small nor large, with thick necks, broad shoulders and thick upper limbs.

• Phlegmatic people have: Large and fleshy heads and faces, with extremely long necks, soft bodies, with long limbs that are larger in their upper portions.

• Cholerics have: Pale faces until stimulated, uniform heads, with normal necks, and proportional bodies, emboldened by uniform limbs with strong forearms and calves.

• Melancholic individuals have: Faces that are bulging at the temples set with thick lips, and large round heads, short necks, and hard bodies that are dense with broad shoulders. Thick upper limbs with only moderate lower portions, that are often bowed.

Once we’ve judged the appearance of our adversary, we can expect the following dispositions in the fight:

• A sanguine fencer, in the beginning of the work, shows the greatest vehemence of speed. Therefore it is best to hold back until their strength declines. Owing to their promptness and speed, sanguines quickly attack any exposed target, but the impetus quickly passes. Once he falters, we should close with him, since he is weak in the lower legs and loins.

• To work in a contest of strength against cholerics, we should stay at a distance, because they have greater strength in the lower legs, loins, and forearms than in other parts of the body, so closing with them would be very harmful. Once we begin a fight with cholerics, it is useless to hasten or prolong it, for they almost always remain in a consistent mode, although in the beginning they seem to have a kind of obstruction before their eyes. Therefore, at every stage of the fight we should attack them, while guarding ourselves against them, and we should choose spacious places.

• Melancholics are not quick in their manner of working, but they possess great hardness. Therefore, we should approach them temperately: this contrary is most excellent and effective against them. Because of their hardness we should not close with them, and also because most of them have great strength—even if they lack skill and agility. They can get by with their limited art when standing close, for in close grappling nobody can freely display agility. Standing at a distance or in arm-grapplings we can show more skill and agility, so with melancholics it helps to fight at a distance temperately.

• When phlegmatics begin to work, they have little strength and a kind of looseness, so that is when we should show our ability against them. But we must finish the work very quickly, deploying our strength immediately so that we can take them with less effort. At the onset it seems that they feel nothing and falter like unskilled people; but if we hit them repeatedly, each time we probe we make them increase somewhat in strength, so that gradually their strength grows until it is no longer as easy to defeat them as it seemed at the start.

We can relate this to Meyer’s four fencers:

Frenzied/Violent:

(T)he first are those who impetuously cut and thrust as soon as they can reach the opponent in the Onset. When you take note that they want to quickly overwhelm you with hard cuts in the attack and want to crowd you…These fencers we can call Sanguine.

Artful/Coiled:

The second are somewhat more dissident and don’t attack so uncouthly; instead, when {their opponent} cuts or misses, drops too far, or otherwise fails to execute a change, they pursue and rapidly follow them to the closest exposed opening. These fencers we can call Choleric.

Judicious and Deceitful:

The Third don’t cut at an opening if they are not assured of it; instead, they pay more attention as to whether they can recover from the extension into the cut safely back into a counter-posture or to Defensive Strikes. (I {Joachim Meyer} hold myself with these [fencers], but it depends on my counterfencer. These Fencers we can call Melancholic.

Foolish or Cunning:

Now the fourth position themselves in a guard and wait thus for their opponent’s device; they must be either fools or especially sharp, for whoever will wait for another person’s device must either be very adept or also trained and experienced, or else he will not accomplish much. And these fencers we can call Phlegmatic.

We can perform the same exercise on Fiore’s Four Virtues:

One could argue that the four traits represent the virtue of each humor and when in balance construct the ideal fencer. Fiore says of the Virtues in the Morgan:

“Behold! We are the four distinguished Animals with these traits Who, for instance, strongly reminds that he is able in arms;
He wants to be clear/bright and even
Shining brightly with honesty.
He understands the lesson for himself,
And determines which are for harming.
Impress the evidence made known upon the spirit.

In the Getty the virtues are described thus:

Prudence/Wisdom:
No creature sees better than I the Lynx, and I proceed always with careful calculation.

Celerity/Speed
I am the Tiger, and I am so quick to run and turn, that even the thunderbolt from heaven cannot catch me.

Audacity/Daring

No one has a more courageous heart than I, the Lion, for I welcome all to meet me in battle.

Fortitude/Strength
I am the Elephant, and I carry a castle in my care, and I neither fall to my knees nor lose my footing.

We can repeat the same exercise with the Anonimo Bolognese’s Nine Characteristics of a Fighter. In action this is an exercise in futility, as it over complicates what should become obvious though experience, however if we use it as a predictive model, then it can be a useful tool.

You all have index cards that were lying on your seats. I want you to write what you think best represents your fighting style on those cards using the Anonimo Bolognese’s 9 characteristics.

Now, I need a volunteer.

First, let me clarify, that this isn’t meant to be a cruel exercise. This is all in fun, but it needs to be stated that we will be assessing your physical characteristics to determine your humoral disposition, so if that isn’t something that you’d like to be subjected to please don’t volunteer.

Humor Game

From the Nine Characteristics and disposition, let’s turn to the core elements of fencing and the inherent variables that feed the equation that determines the success of an engagement.

We’ll start with measure!

In Euclid’s Elements, he laid out a number of axioms and postulates that still rule geometry and fencing today. I’ll spare you the lecture on the history of mathematics and instead focus on how geometry, and more importantly measure, were conceptualized, rationalized, and realized in fencing. There was perhaps no greater shift in the evolution of fencing than what we can term the Euclidian Revolution. But measure has always been paramount—don’t take my word for it, listen to these guys:

Liechtenauer said, “This you should grasp: All arts have length and measure.”

Dardi dictates: “(G)eometry, resembles the skill of fencing because in fencing there is nothing but proper measure.”

Vadi relates: “And if you heed my doctrines, You’ll know how to answer with reason And pluck the rose from the thorns. To make your opinion clearer, And to sharpen your intellect, So you may be able to answer to everyone: Music adorns her and chooses her as its subject, Song and sound are added to the art, To make it a more perfect science. So Geometry and Music combine Their scientific virtues in the sword, To adorn the great light of Mars.”

And Fabris proclaims: “We have shunned the use of geometrical terms, although swordsmanship has its foundations more in geometry than in any other science. Simply and as naturally as possible we have tried to bring the art within the capacity of all.”

The first synthesized model to show up, I believe, is the segno. Originally illustrated in Achille Marozzo’s Opera Nova in 1536, it’s unclear if this pedagogical device predates Marozzo, but from my own personal analysis of the fencing system and various authors, I’ve found enough indication to presume that it likely did.

The segno is a relational model that denotes various passages of play, or modes of fencing. In Bologna, these were referred to as gioco largo, gioco stretto, and mezza spada. We can see similar terms used for the demarcation of measure utilized in the Holy Roman Empire with the zufechten, krieg, and ringen am schwert, and in the earlier recorded Italian traditions of Fiore and Vadi, where their expressions of measure are predicated on the depth of a crossing.

The segno as a tool was intended to teach the coordination of the sword with the body and dynamic footwork patterns, notably sideways and oblique movement. Utilizing Marozzo’s prescribed plays—that is, his sharp sword plays in book two—and similar actions from the tangential authors, we can see that one of the main objectives of the segno was to emphasize angulation and leverage. Perhaps one of the better illustrations of this, ironically, comes from the Basel-born Swiss fencing master Joachim Meyer, who relates:

“Item: If you both stand on line A as previously mentioned and he cuts at your right and then thrusts straight at you, then thrust in likewise with him and step with your left behind your right on the B line to the right and follow further with your right foot to the C line to the right, thus his thrust fails and yours meets. However, if he also steps like you are stepping, then both thrusts parry each other.”

This is a principal key to northern Italian fencing.

This plural approach would remain a core tenant of Italian fencing for an age, but the mid-16th century saw a new mode of expressing measure dominate the landscape and change the course of fencing forever.

Enter the Reformers Sandro Francesco Altoni and Camillo Agrippa. The 1550s saw a slew of new approaches to the stale zeitgeist of the Italian Wars era. Most notably, a singular, interpersonal approach to defining measure, where the proportions of the individual, and the emphasis on delivering the shortest, most concise tempo, came to rule the age.

Let’s talk about time…

Time, or tempo, in fencing has largely been measure as a function of Aristotelian physics. Aristotle defined time as a number of change with respect to the before and after.

Put in fencing terms, this is simply guard—motion—guard.

Of the extant sources, the first person to reference tempo as a function of fencing was Filippo Vadi. This is unsurprising given his education as a medical doctor, during which he would’ve studied Aristotle as a core part of his curriculum. What we see from Vadi through the Bolognese authors and on into the modern age of fencing is an empirical emphasis, where defining, categorizing, theorizing, and refining the rules that govern fencing became the focus of the given age. Just as theory and application of various ways of defining measure changed the landscape of fencing, tempo and its range of applications also had a transformative effect.

One of the first syntheses of tempo from a perspective of applied philosophy comes to us from Angelo Viggiani, who says:

“All right, it suffices that each motion that is single and continuous lies between the preceding and subsequent rest; look, then, Conte: before you throw a mandritto, a rovescio, or a punta, you are in some guard; having finished the blow, you find yourself in another guard; that motion of throwing the blow is a tempo, because that blow is a continuous motion; thus the tempo that it accompanies is a single tempo; when you rest in guard, having finished that motion, you find yourself once again at rest; it is therefore a tempo, a motion, which instead of calling a “motion”, we call a “tempo”, because the one [64R] does not abandon the other; and the guard is the rest and the repose in some place and form. In conclusion it is as much to say “tempo” and “guard”, as it is to say “motion” and “rest”. Whereby it is necessarily so, that as between two motions there is always a rest, and between two rests there is interposed a motion, apparently between two thrown blows, or two tempos, or two motions, is found a guard. And between two guards, or rests (as you wish to say) are interposed some blow and tempo.”

It’s of little consequence that this expression is first related in dialogue by Viggiani’s muse, Ludovico Bocadiferro—here shown hoarding the Funyuns—before being clarified by Rodomonte. Bocadiferro was the star student and presumed heir of the greatest Bolognese philosopher, Alessandro Achillini, a man whom his peers called the second Aristotle, and was also a member of the Bentivogleschi faction, which is at the heart of the Bolognese fencing tradition. One of Achillini’s final works before his death in 1512 was a commentary on Aristotle’s physics called De Proportionibus Motuum. This was published posthumously by his younger brother, Giovanni Fioloteo Achillini in 1516, who himself published a treatise on the mezza spada techniques of Bolognese fencing in his Viridario, published in 1514 but written 1504.

Tempo and measure are two key variables that combine to dictate the outcome of almost every fencing engagement. We see this expressed succinctly by Antonio Manciolino, who says that a fencer may strike their opponent without tempo and measure, but that doesn't redeem their bad form: “we call those who strike with tempo and elegance Gravi and Apostati.”

For Marozzo, the tempi are a means to an end, and that is creating crossings, so he can work artfully in the engagement, and exit safely. You could argue that many of the expressions of tempos of attack fit in this dichotomy.

To summarize, tempo is almost universally expressed as any movement of the sword or body, and how these tempi are exploited is often up to the discretion of the author. However, one of the core components that is almost universally expressed is the general axiom of acting with a smaller tempo, in the tempo of your opponent, with the proper measure.

Tempo game:

Lecturer counts One—and—Two, varying the speed of the count. The audience claps on the ‘and’.

Now it’s time to poke the bear and get theoretical.

The following three quotes will be important for understanding what were about to discuss:

“First mark and remember that Liechtenaur’s Fencing is aligned at the Five Words Before , After, Weak , Strong, Indes; these are the principles and the fundament of all fighting…”

“And this is what Liechtenauer means by the words, "Soft and Hard" And this follows the authorities. As Aristotle spoke in the book Perihermanias: "Opposites positioned near themselves shine greater, or rather; opposites which adjoin, augment. Weak against strong, hard against soft, and the contrary." For should it be strong against strong, then the stronger would win every time.”

“Because of this, the two words, The Before, The After, that is the Vorschlag and the Nachschlag, arise. Continuously and in one moment as if left without any middle.”

In MS 3227a, the author relates the words Before and After, Strong and Weak, to Aristotle's qualities in opposite categories. This can be found in Aristotle’s work titled Categories. In part 10, Aristotle describes, “the various senses in which the term ‘opposite’ is used.”

Things are opposed in four ways: As correlatives, contraries, privatives and positives, and affirmatives and negatives. A general rule of correlatives is that all relatives have correlatives; that is, by ‘greater’, you mean greater than that which is less; by ‘less’, you mean less than that which is greater.

For contraries we have to see them as pairs of opposites, like he is sick and he is well. This is generally the case unless correlatives have intermediaries. Then they have a transitive property, an in-between. Like the colors black and white: their intermediary is grey.

On to privatives and positives, which usually denote that what you once had has been lost: for example, he is blind and he has sight; she has teeth and she has no teeth.

Affirmation and negation are the last quality, and for this quality, one opposite must be true and the other false.

For the following exercise we’re going to explore the ideas of strong and weak, and before and after as each category of opposites. For the sake of time, I’m going to go ahead and forego affirmation and negation, because I don’t think it’s a likely scenario. I could certainly be wrong, but my reasoning is simply that it would seem illogical for me to be strong, and it to be false that you are also strong or can be strong. I’ll admit that this does strike a chord with Vor and Nach, and I encourage you to explore that possibility.

Correlatives, as defined by Aristotle, are pairs of opposites which fall under the category of relation and are explained by reference of the one to the other, the reference being indicated by the proposition ‘of’ or by some other preposition. If we were to take the definition of correlatives and apply it to strong and weak, before and after, we could draw some interesting conclusions.

Looking at the positive, which is before, then by Aristotle's standard, it would mean that I had more before than the before of my opponent. This is certainly true, and you can form a logical argument around this notion. Similarly with strength: again using the positive trait, it would mean that I have more strength than the strength of my opponent. That certainly makes sense, especially if we take strength as a function of biomechanical leverage.

Where I feel this could fall short is its relation to the text of 3227a specifically. This could certainly be more logical, and it could better fit your experience personal experience of KdF than the author of 3227a’s supposition, but this exercise is meant to be an analysis of how the author perceived KdF in relation of Aristotle, so we must maintain that standard.

First, the author of 3227a says that “opposites positioned near themselves shine greater. Or rather opposites which adjoin augment.” The quality of the relationship seems to need to have a weak, or a weakening component to work, “weak against strong, hard against soft.”

Surely, the last statement confirms that for us, “For should it be strong against strong {more strength than the strength of} then surely the stronger would win every time.” So, it’s not that this is illogical by any standard, it just doesn’t reflect the nuance of the tactical objective—not in my reading of it.

The argument of Strong and Weak, Vor and Nach, does lend itself well to the principle of frequens motus illustrated by the quote, “Here note that constant motion according to this art and lesson arrests the opponent in the beginning, middle and end of all fencing. In this way you complete the beginning, middle and ending in one fluid motion without pause and without hinderance of your adversary and you do not allow the opponent to come to blows with anything.”

Now that we’ve examined correlatives, let’s move on to contraries.

According to Aristotle, “Pairs of opposites which are contraries are not in any way interdependent but are contrary to one another. Those contraries which are such that the subjects in which they are naturally present, or of which they are predicated, must necessarily contain either one or the other of them, have no intermediate, but those in the case of which no such necessity obtains always have an intermediate.”

An example of a contrary without an intermediary would be odd and even numbers, or heat from a fire. An example of a contrary with an intermediary would be good and bad, where the goodness of an individual is not necessarily a function of their goodness, but a function of them being less bad than a bad person. Therefore, by contrast, when they are in opposition to the bad person, they are comparatively good. A less nuanced example is the colors black and white, where the color grey is an intermediary between these two extremes.

It’s my belief that the function of Before and After, Strong and Weak as contraries hinges on the role of the intermediary.

Aristotle says:

“Yet in the case of those contraries which have an intermediate we found that it was never necessary that either one or the other should be present in every appropriate subject, but only that in certain subjects one of the pair should be present, and that in a determinate state.”

And

“Again, in the case of contraries, it is possible that there should be changes from either into the other, while the subject retains its identity, unless indeed one of the contraries is a constitutive property of that subject, as heat is of fire.”

This echoes the words of the author of 3227a in a way that really intrigues me. That a subject present in a determined state has no intermediary, and when an intermediary is present in the relationship that it can effect change in the relationship between the opposed parties.

If we assume that having the Vor is obtained by striking the vorshchlag—when it is appropriate and achieves a strong position—and chasing the openings; we can see the Vor as an act of pursuit. The continuation of this pursuit puts the opponent in the Nach. The means of achieving and maintaining this relationship is through the principle of frequens motus. As, 3227a’s author states that the execution must be performed, “continuously and in one moment as if left without any middle.”

That is, to my understanding, performed in a determined state with no intermediary, or in Aristotles definitions “to make do” and to “suffer or undergo”.

As long as the subject of the pursuit remains in a determined state, then the fencer who is pursuant will maintain the Vor.

But what happens if their pursuit wains, or their opponent interrupts their pursuit with a skillful action that disrupts their frequens motus?

Then, the focus or subject changes.

The principle of frequens motus is predicated on acting before the opponent can come to a fully formed guard position. That is, before they complete their strengthening or weakening in response to your action in pursuit.

Were they to achieve their state of strength or weakness, the subject would change to this relationship in the quality of the bind or crossing.

Similar to the qualities of the subject that dictated the possession of the before; a determined state vs the presence of intermediaries—the conduct of this relationship between opposites in contrary categories is dependent on the use of fuhlen to correctly calibrate whether your role is to strengthen or weaken in response.

Here again, the author notes that opposites positioned near themselves shine greater, or rather opposites which adjoin augment. Weak against strong, hard against soft. The fencer who through fuhlen recognizes the nature of the relationship first can act indes and claim the Vor, whereby the subject changes back to the pursuit.

Similarly, if one or the other party try to strengthen when they are weak, or weaken when they are strong, they will introduce an intermediary, wherein their counterpart may act indes and work in the Vor. This concentric, bipolar relationship will go until someone is struck decisively or the measure is reset to the Zufechten, where the quality of the bind is indecisive.

Now let’s take a look at privatives and positives! Aristotle defines these like this:

“Privatives and Positives have reference to the same subject…It is a universal rule that each of a pair of opposites of this type has reference to that which the particular positive is natural.”

To apply this succinctly to Strong and Weak, we could say, the strength of the stronger party takes away the weaker party’s ability to be strong in relation.

For Vor and Nach, we could craft a similar statement: the Vor is a condition of the party who strikes the Vorshlag, which denies the party in the Nach the ability to be in the Vor.

Here if we were to apply a similar lens to the one we used to observe opposites as contraries, that my strength executed in frequent modus deprives you of the ability to come to a position of strength yourself, then we could view both Vor and Nach as dominant—positive subjects, and Nach and Weak as states of privation. These relational characteristics are intriguing because they give a definitive stepping of point for when to stop pursing the vor. That is when your frequens motus has been compromised and you can no longer achieve a strong position in relation.

Whichever way you cut it—contraries, correlatives, privatives and positives, there is a lot to explore with 3227a’s observation of Aristotle in Liechtenauer’s teachings.

Of course, I would be remiss not to take a moment and define how strength and weakness are derived in fencing. A fencer can exert strength in roughly three ways; I’m sure I’m missing another, somewhere. But these are my three:

Through force: pushing, driving, projecting or tensing; kinetically.

Mechanically: that would entail aligning the mechanical leverages of the sword against the opponents: for example, strong vs weak, or edge vs flat.

Body structure: deploying larger muscle groups—hips, core, back—to resist or overpower weaker muscle groups like the arms.

Of these three options, mechanical leverage and body structure are superior, as force or kinetic responses are often reactionary. I think Puck Curtis put it best: we don’t often get the floor knowledge from the authors that help us develop the former two.

But the notion is certainly there:

“With your whole body shall you fight,
For that is how you fence with might.”

“This ingenious art of the sword consists above all of a half turn of the hand or a full turn of the hand; and this half turn or full turn of the hand needs to accompany a half blow or a full blow; and this half blow or full blow needs to be accompanied by a half turn of the body; and this half turn of the body needs to be accompanied by a half or full step…”

For my Sauce-loving friends, you could argue that the topic of frequens motus isn’t unique to KdF, as we see a similar concept illustrated in the Opera Novas of Manciolino and Marozzo as well:

Marozzo says:

“You should hold it to be a certain factor that no one who is attacked when raising out of a guard, or in falling from a guard, can perform any counter except for an instinctive response as if he knew nothing…But if perchance you were to attack him when he was neither rising nor falling, be advised that he could interrupt your intention with a variety of blows. So if you wish for honor, be attentive, and look to attack him as he rises or falls from his guard with his counters.” (Marozzo, Capitolo 171; Swanger, pg. 256)

To which Manciolino adds:

“Since no blow can be reasonably performed without ending in a guard, the virtue of a fencer is to be found in the raising and lowering of the guards. In consequence of this principle, he who renews his attack before settling in guard will be more apt to win. This is because it is easier to attack an opponent whose action is interrupted.” (Manciolino; Leoni, pg. 112)

Alright, enough of the easy stuff, let’s get into the real meat and potatoes of the lecture…

So far, we’ve discussed the nature or disposition of a fencer, measure, tempo, strong and weak as relational qualities, and the concept of frequens motus as a key function of the Vor.

Now let’s return to our dear friend Alessandro Achillini and keep this Aristotelian Scholatic train-a-rolling!

In order to understand Achillini, we have to take a brief survey of the history of philosophy, with a keen focus on its application and understanding in the European sphere. To do this effectively, we must first understand Platonism. The core tenant of Plato’s philosophy we are going to explore, is his answer to the problem of Universals.

Universals can be reduced in this way: if things share an attribute, a feature, or a quality, then the particular commonality among those things is a universal.

In Platonism, Universals are representative of forms. To Plato, these forms existed outside of space and time and possessed a higher reality than their terrestrial counterparts.

To understand this further, we can explore the following example:

A red cup and a red apple share the particular quality of redness, and this redness is a Universal.

If I were to break the red cup, I wouldn’t destroy the Universal of redness or cupness, only the object that represented those qualities.

Particulars are simply defined as individuals or entities that exist and occupy a certain space in time. Everything that surrounds you; the cup, the apple, you sitting there in the audience is a Particular. A good way to remember this is that a Particular exists in itself, while a universal exists in something else.

Form -> Universal -> Particular

Rather than Universalia Ante Res; or Universals before things, Aristotle argued Universalia in Rebus; or Universals in things. The dichotomy is a point of contention illustrated in Raphael’s School of Athens, with Plato pointing up and Aristotle pointing out.

In the words of Bob Hale, “Aristotle believed that while there are Universals, they can have no freestanding, independent existence. They exist only in the particulars that instantiate them.”

So, the red particular of our cup presupposes the Universal redness it shares with the apple.

While Aristotle didn’t believe in transcendent forms, he did argue that beings developed toward an ideal form, and that the focus of the individual was to strive toward that perfection before they begin to decay. A notion we’re all familiar with on our martial arts journey—no doubt.

In summary, Aristotle believed the order should be Particular then Universal.

Aristotle’s more empirical approach to logic inspired the 12th Century Iberian Muslim philosopher Ibn Rushd, known as Averroes to reconcile his faith with the logos of the ancients.

Averroes concluded that philosophy was superior to faith and knowledge founded on faith, that natural truths were sufficient. That the purpose of philosophy was to establish the true, inner meaning of religious beliefs and convictions. To justify this, he argued the idea of Universal cognitions: Dater Formarum, or the creator of forms, which is the active agent in intellectual reasoning. In this idea, this intellect contains not Universal knowledge, but the active consideration of Particular things.

Because Averroes wrote a number of commentaries on Artistotle that were translated from Arabic into Latin, his works and his reflections became widely circulated in Medieval Europe, where two interesting tenets arose: that man could manifest his own happiness, and the rejection of both moral determinism and the existence of the eternal soul.

You can probably see the storm clouds a-brewing!

While Averroes’s translations were widely utilized and circulated, you can imagine the controversy that struck when the secular universities in the Christian West started analyzing and teaching his commentaries.

The first apologist to step-up to the plate and try to take a swing at Averroes’s fastball was someone you’re all probably familiar with, Thomas Aquinas. For the sake of brevity, Aquinas concluded that reason was capable of operating within faith, and was very critical of Averroes, despite using his translations often in his works.

These competing monistic analyses of Aristotle’s reason would set the stage for the development of western philosophy moving forward and were the source of more than a handful of student riots across Europe—especially in Paris.

Tired of all the contention, Siger of Brabant thought that he’d found a way to cut the Gordian Knot.

He argued that one thing could be true through reason, and the opposite could be true through faith.

For example, if we observe that the great 20th century poet-philosopher Bret Michaels is correct—that every rose has a thorn—and I therefore associate roses (let’s call them red roses) with pain, while you my beautiful audience associate the rose only with its innate beauty, both of our collective experiences can be a part of the greater cognition of the truth of the rose.

My forlorn power ballad can be just as valid as your unsullied admiration for the rose. All of this was so that Siger could enjoy the dogmatic and empirical realism of Aristotle as it was related by Averroes, with the wonder and majesty of his Christian faith.

Of course…his fellow faithful didn’t agree. They had Siger excommunicated for heterodoxy, or arguing two truths.

However dour this may have been for dear Siger, while he was excommunicated from Catholic heaven, he made it into Dante’s Paradisio as one of the 12 illustrious souls—so he had that going for him.

While Siger ’s compromise may have been a hit at Parisian frat parties, it wasn’t dank enough for the College of Cardinals.

Enter William of Ockham!

Ockham said to hell with the complexity, the uUniversals, and the Greco-Islamic realism: God made the rules, he’s not subject to the rules. Universals don’t explain the existence of God, they’re just manifestations of language, devices conceived by man to generalize Particulars in an attempt to understand the mystery of creation.

He argued that there are only Particulars, no realities or cognitions, just individual, measurable, tangible things. This, of course, led to the conceptualization of his famous Razor.

“Plurality must never be posited without necessity.” Or, simply, the least complex explanation is the most likely explanation.

Now we can talk about Alessandro Achillini!

Achillini was a proponent of Averroes and Siger of Brabant, and it’s perhaps through Siger ’s compromise that he was able to rationalize, embrace, and evangelize the ideals of William of Ockham, leading an Ockhamist revolution in the city of Bologna in the late 15th early 16th century. What we see in Achillini’s philosophical discourse is a synthesis of these three stalwarts.

To Porphyry’s questions, whether Universals are in the intellect, and whether Universals are real, Achillini answered:

“We experience that the Universal is in us” —using Siger to justify Averroes—“and every kind of knowledge presupposes it” —driving the point home with Ockham. Porphyry was a Platonist, and his questions are a challenge to Aristotle’s claim that sensible substances are prior to the Universal Species and Genera…

To rationalize this…follow me here:

When your plane crashes in an undisclosed location somewhere in East Asia, and you encounter a tiger in the wild, you can either; stop and wonder if that majestic beast is a Bengal or a Siber-aargghghgh.

-or-

You can say “Oh shit” and try to find shelter immediately. Fighting, much like random tiger encounters after tragic plane crashes in undisclosed parts of East Asia, require quick, concise, decisive action. No Mind. A focus on the sensible substances, as Aristotle would say, and less on the Universals they compose.

Whether Achillini’s nominal Aristotelian approach had any effect on Achille Marozzo, we’ll likely never know, however, there is something curiously nominalist about Marozzo’s work. Juxtaposed to his contemporary Antonio Manciolino, who loves to quote ‘the Philosopher’ and swing his humanist education around with plodding allegories, one might write Marozzo off. But Marozzo is no schlub; he subtly includes some pretty complex philosophical models in his new work. For example, the clever exposition on frequens motus we saw in our expose on 3227a. More importantly Marozzo preaches, time and time again, what I believe is nominalism in defense.

“I want to make it understood that when a man delivers a blow, he can only throw three kinds of attacks naturally, namely a mandritto, a riverso, or a stocatta. There are those who will say that there are more than these aforesaid three attacks that can be done, and I will confirm to you that indeed there are; that is, there are many kinds of attacks, but regardless of whatever blow is thrown in the beginning one can’t do any other than those aforementioned three.”

Who cares if it’s a Bengal or a Siberian tiger. It’s a freaking tiger!

Who cares if it’s infalso, impuntato traverso, or mezza?

Is it a mandritto (cut from the right), a roverso (cut from the left) or a stocatta (a thrust)? It is the sensible substance that precedes the Universal that matters in the moment.

Let’s take a moment to appreciate where genera and species do come in handy, and spend some more time with our dear friend Angelo Viggiani.

Using what we’ve learned about Particulars and Universals, we know now that particulars exist within themselves, and universals exist in something else, yeah? Everyone likes to throw shade at my boy Angelo for his guards, but I’m going to show you why they’re ingenious! This is an exercise in logic!

Viggiani identified 7 particulars of a guard position:

• Whether the sword is on the right or the left

• Whether the point is on-line or off-line

• And whether the sword is high, middle, or low

• Guards on the right are generally offensive

• Guards on the left are generally defensive

• Guards with the point on-line can thrust and cut (perfect)

• Guards with the point off-line can cut (imperfect)

• Guards that are high are offensive, and guards that are low are defensive

The purpose and beauty of this exercise lies in its predictive outcome—just like Monte and his dispositions. In the pre-fencing, whether sanguine or phlegmatic, whether you’re offensive or defensive, having the foresight to understand the innate quality and potential of each guard position will allow you to act decisively.

This can be determined by defining the genera and species of each guard. Offensive or defensive, our genus: and perfect oriImperfect our species. Now, we’re afforded this moment of speciation because there’s no tiger we need to worry about: as long as we’re aware of our measure and the tempo, then the threat is not immediate.

At the onset of a fight, we are the hunter, and as Marozzo loves to say, we’ll Caccia our opponent out of the refuge of their guard, but in order to do that well, we must know the underlying potential we're provoking.

This is supported by two key quotes:

“And so, we have taught and given the knowledge of the gallant guards that pertain to this ingenious art of defense, for there is nothing in this art that you need to understand more readily. This way when you find yourself against an enemy, you can immediately identify how the swords are placed, for the attacks one may make with the sword are infinite and innumerable, and so too are the ways in which the swords may be found; yet from one guard or another, not all attacks will be suitable, and by being shrewd, and also being illuminated with the knowledge of your enemy's placement, you will make effective attacks, in the correct tempo, using your sword and your body; and by making attacks in this manner you will remain secure from harm.” —Anonimo Bolognese (Fratus, pg. 59)

And

“Always keep an eye on the opponent’s sword-hand rather than his face. By looking at his hand, you will be able to devise all that he intends to do.” —Antonio Manciolino (Leoni, pg. 110)

To draw this foray of reason to a succinct conclusion, it’s appropriate to end with one final logical device, and my favorite author, Antonio Manciolino.

Oh Antonio, how oft misunderstood you’ve been!

Manciolino, in his Opera Nova, gives plenty of clear, listed, tactical approbates, but the way he illustrates the greater tactical paradigm of Bolognese fencing is presented in allegory.

For wide play we have the resplendent Nymphs, who:

“Not grace, for just as rich fabrics adorn the charming and lovely Nymphs lightly treading on Mount Menalus or in the Lyceum, so does supple stepping embellish the blows of the dazzling sword. Were our weapon despoiled of its proper steps, it would fall into the darkness of a serene night being orphaned of the stars. And how can white-clad Victory be, where gentle grace is lacking?”

To which he concludes, “We shant therefore call him victor who wins by chance and throws random blows like a brutal peasant; nor shall we call vanquished him who proceeds according to the correct teachings. It is indeed more respected among knowledgeable men to lose with poise than to win erratically and outside of any grace.”

And later contrasts with:

“Much more joyful than our Martial Plays are the assalti that rough-haired Satyrs conduct toward hunting nymphs in the pages of poetry books. Those subjects are so fine that words compose themselves for the poet in a sweet ever-flowing style.”

To which he adds a graphic depiction of the chase:

“When bards attempt to tell of Goat-gods’ wooly limbs, their horny brows, their gestures so licentious, words are not composed, but hues on canvas paint their rustic charge, while breathless nymphs a-flee.”

Our licentious wooly goat-gods are of course a metaphor for narrow play, or fencing from a crossing, to which Manciolino says:

“He who doesn’t understand it perfectly and does not have an excellent foundation in it will never be a good master. No matter how good a fencer, how skilled in defense and how quick with his hands, he will be unable to teach the true art to others, since true art consists in being strongest and most resilient. Rather than knowledge, these fencers should more aptly be considered lucky when they score a hit.”

So, we must have the poise and grace of the Nymph for our victory to be judged complete, yet the rustic charge of the Satyr with its strength and resilience is a necessity for our mastery to be complete. But how do we reconcile these forces in opposition?

Manciolino continues:

“He who fails to praise the splendid colors of polished literature, the elegance of well-composed speech, and the harmony of poetry would rightfully be deemed insensible. Yet, it would be equally insensible to adopt the same form of speech in a topic for which it is unfit. Therefore, a wise writer always creates characters who speak and reply in a manner befitting their condition.”

We’re called to be neither the Nymph nor the Satyr, but the Author, who can compose their art with the timid grace of the Nymph and the reprobate veracity of the licentious Satyr; all without ever being corrupted by the mind of either.

And this brings us to our conclusion.

Whether you’re doing I.33, Fiore, KdF, Bolognese fencing, or recreating the arts of the 17th and 18th centuries, our objective is all the same: a pursuit of understanding and renewal.

Whether your method is Universalia ante Res, Universals before things—as in Plato— or Universalia in Rebus, Universals in things—as in Aristotle—or even a belief in the dater formarum, the Universal cognition, and the active agent in intellectual reasoning—as in Averroes—our objective and the objective of the authors who composed these works on fencing is or was logos: reason, principle, or the order that governs this wonderful art we share.

Just as dialogue and discussion are at the heart of Logic, they’re equally important for this project we endeavor to revitalize. Some may find compromise in the wisdom is Siger of Brabant, that there can be many truths derived from subjective experience, or they make take a more empirical Ockhamist approach and focus on the things which are quantifiable, measurable, and tangible. Regardless of how we come to the table, we must remember that we are all the authors of our fencing narrative, and therefore we must speak with the voice appropriate of the moment, and engage in the discourse that will bring us closer to understanding the particulars of this forgotten art.

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Time—the 4th dimension.

Whether you’re practicing Kunst des Fechtens, Armizare, the Bolognese tradition, plays from MS. I.33, or you’re just doing modern sport, time (timing/tempo) is an essential element of the art you practice. But what is a tempo, and did the concept really exist in a medieval context (i.e., I.33, Armizare, or Kunst des Fechtens)? Or was it a Renaissance creation? Can we effectively communicate time across generations, and create a unified concept of tempo?

Let’s find out!

The concept of time is largely rooted on the movement of celestial bodies. One full rotation of the earth is one day; one full rotation around the sun is one year. This has remained true for the majority of human history—though which body was rotating around which was often misunderstood. Despite the general consistency, this methodology of measuring time had one noticeable flaw: the minutiae of an object in motion over the course of [what we would call] a few seconds was on a scale so small it was almost impossible to measure using cosmic bodies.

Enter Aristotle.

In his attempt to create a philosophical model to chart objects in motion, Aristotle became one of the first western thinkers to devise a system of measurement or system of counting used to describe time and the motion of an object. This system we now associate with the principles of physics, which takes its name from his work on the subject: Φυσικὴ ἀκρόασις, Phusike akroasis, or Physicus—natural things or simply nature.1 Time is defined by Aristotle as “a number of change with respect to the before and after.” (Coope; pg. 219)2 Or, to paraphrase Angelo Viggiani’s muse Bocadiferro explaining Aristotle's principles, the movement between two points of rest.

Aristotle’s observations on the physics of the universe would eventually succumb to the scientific rigors of thinkers like Kepler, Copernicus, and Galilei, yet it persisted as the standard until Sir Isaac Newton put the final nail in the coffin in 1687.3

Therefore, when we talk about tempo, indes, etc. we have to do so through the lens of Aristotelian physics. No source does this better than the aforementioned work of Angelo Viggiani. However, before we delve into Viggiani and other 16th century authors like Marozzo and Manciolino, I want to highlight the development of the illustration of tempo in fencing manuscripts from the earliest known sources up to the 16th century. This will help us to solidify our understanding of tempo, and demonstrate how these sources depict the same Aristotelian understanding of physics explained in Angelo Viggiani’s, lo Schermo, written in 1551.

It's important to note that just because the word tempo was not explicitly used by the KdF authors, Fiore, or the priest(s) who wrote MS. I.33, that doesn't mean that tempo was not observed, illustrated or understood. To the contrary, this piece will seek to reconcile this common misunderstanding and show how the Aristotelian concept of time that we see codified by later 16th century authors—which still exists in the modern conception of the term—is presented in the works of its 14th and 15th century predecessors.

What is a Tempo?

Authors across the centuries have found a number of different ways to convey the concept of tempo. Some are more verbose than others, while a number are quite pedantic—some are borderline scientific, and others are more vague. One of the best explanations comes from Nicoletto Giganti. This is in part because he starts with a detailed list, then course corrects, and drops a succinct statement that perfectly sums up the concept: “…In every motion of the dagger, sword, foot, and vita {person}, such as changing guard, is a tempo in the way that all these things are tempi—because they contain different intervals.” (Giganti; Vansteenkiste, Wiktenauer)

And the Anonymous author gives us a rather indisputable rule:

• (I)t is the movement of the sword that creates a tempo, and these tempi come from the attacks of the sword. Thus, as soon as you move your sword you will give birth to the tempo it creates. (Anonimo; Fratus; pg. 64)

While this is nice and easy—that every movement of the sword, body, foot, or changing of the guard is a tempo—what’s the correct tempo? That is, what's the correct tempo to start an attack? Not all tempos are created equal. Giovanni dall’Agocchie gives us a list:

1. When you have made a parry.

2. When their blow goes past.

3. When they raise their weapon to attack.

4. When they injudiciously change guard.

5. When they take a step.

But let’s table this discussion until after we talk about the medieval sources. We’ll take the Anonymous Author, Giganti, and dall’Agocchie at their word, as they provide a concise framework and include more modern observations as they fit the discussion. Then, when we’ve clearly outlined the 16th century discussions of tempo, we’ll revisit the plays of their medieval counterparts, and draw a conclusion summarizing what we've learned.

The Medieval Sources

MS I.33

For those unacquainted with I.33, here are some terms and definitions that will help you follow along with the subsequent discussion.

Terms:

• Wards or Custodia, and Obsessione: Guards or Postures

  • (1: Under the arm (sub brach)

  • (2: Right shoulder (humero dextrali)

  • (3: Left shoulder (humero sinistro)

  • (4: Head (capiti)

  • (5: Right side (latere dextro)

  • (6: Breast (pectori)

  • (7: Langort (Longpoint; may be either a custodia or an obsessio)

  • Halpschilt ('Half shield', one of the obsessiones)

  • Krucke ('crutch', a defensive position)

  • Albersleiben (possibly the fool's guard position)

  • Vidilpoge ('fiddle-bow', a specific custodia)

• Actions of the Sword and Buckler

  • Durchtreten, durchtritt ('stepping through')

  • Nucken ('nudge', a specific attack)

  • Schiltslac ('shield-blow' or shield strike)

  • Schutzen ('protect' or parry)

  • Stich ('stab' or thrust)

  • Stichschlac ('stab-blow')

In the first play of I.33 we have the scholar assume one of the two counter postures to an opponent presenting in first ward, halbshilt. The priest attempts to displace the scholar’s sword with an outside bind. Here the scholar will counter bind and enter (threaten a low thrust, or stich) to perform a schiltslac.

This is the tempo.

If the priest misses this tempo the scholar performs the schiltslac and strikes the priest in the face with his sword.

However, if the priest is wise of his options—dirchtritt, mutation of the sword, or wrapping his right arm over the scholar’s sword and shield—and acts in the moment—in tempo—he will successfully counter the scholar’s attack.

Next, we have a different approach—6th Ward (pectori) vs. halbshilt—where the priest will attempt to thrust or stich the scholar, driving his sword up to the sign of the cross—to the hilt. The scholar will bind, and deflect the thrust down, which brings us to our tempo. If the priest is unable to act, the scholar will schiltslac as before, but if the priest acts in tempo he has the durchtritt, mutation of the sword, or wrapping his right arm over the scholar’s sword and shield all available to him. Here we will see the sword and shield wrap, and a counter to the wrap from the scholar.

This tempo is everywhere in I.33, so let's look at a different one—for the sake of completeness—before we move on to Fiore. In the next sequence we’ll see the priest start in 2nd Ward (humero dextrali), while the scholar will counter or perform a shutzen {parry} in halbshilt.

This is our tempo

When the scholar has performed the shutzen, he is granted the initiative of a counter attack. As the author says, “And you must know that (according to the true teachings of the priest) he who was the first to displace, can do three things: firstly, he can push the sword downward and then durchtreten; secondly, he can execute a blow from the right side; thirdly, he can execute a blow from the left side. Note that the opponent can do the same, even though the displacer is the first to be ready.” (I.33; Bachmann, Wiktenauer)

In the illustrations above, the scholar—having performed the shutzen—will perform a durchtreten to the right side of the priest’s face. If the priest is aware of this, he will “deflect the action mentioned above while the scholar is still underway.” (I.33; Bachmann, Wiktenauer) Thus, with the priest having depressed or driven down the scholar’s sword, we see his pupil returned to our old familiar tempo and—schiltslac!

As we can see from the highlighted plays, the priest(s) who wrote MS I.33 were well aware of tempo, though not stated, illustrated, explained, and described. While only the second set of plays takes advantage of the initial tempo with the shutzen and counter attack, many times the correct tempo is born in a moment where you can gain advantage and control your opponent’s weapon, as we see in the first set of highlighted plays.

Referencing our shortlist of tempos above, I.33 illustrates the first of Giovanni dall’Agocchie’s tempos of attack—when you have made a parry—with the second set of actions {shutzen}, and demonstrates principles of Nicoletto Giganti and the Anonymous author’s advice with the first set of actions (the three options). Furthermore, if we add in one more anecdote from the Anonimo, we can inject a bit of nuance to the wisdom of the priest’s instructions. The Anonymous author continues his discussion of tempo by saying, “Because if you wish to throw some attack without knowing the tempo, you will do so blindly and will be unable to make it well, insofar as it is necessary to first know the tempo and then to make the attack, if you wish to proceed artfully.” (Anonimo; Fratus, pg. 64)

The first set of plays highlights this beautifully. Were the priest to pursue his outside bind with no clear understanding of the potential schiltslac waiting for him, or the three potential counters to the setup of the schiltslac, he would be undone. However, if he is aware of the tempo he’s rendering, and how his opponent will seek to leverage it to their advantage, then he will be the first to act and find the correct tempo to attack.

Fiore de'i Liberi

For those unacquainted with Fiore, here are some terms and definitions that will help you follow along with the subsequent discussion.

Terms:

Guards of Fiore:

• Posta de donna

• Posta de donna destraza, pulsativa

• Posta de Finestra instabile

• Porta di ferro mezana, stabile

• Posta longa, instabile

• Posta frontale ditta corona instabile

• Dente di cenghiaro stabile

• Posta breve stabile

• Posta di donna la sinestra, pulsativa

• Posta di choda longa stabile

• Posta di Bichorno instabile

• Posta di dente zenchiaro mezana, stabile

Actions of the Sword:

• Colpi Fendenti: Downward blows

• Colpi Sottani: Rising blows

• Colpi Mezani: Middle (horizontal) blows

• Le Punte: Thrust

We’ll kick this off with Fiore’s third master of the sword in wide play. This play begins with the opponent cutting strongly, like a peasant4 or a villain (colpo del vilano). That is, their blow will be full and will not end with their point on-line. Here, utilizing the tempo of their attack, you’ll step to their right (your left), and allow the point of your sword to hang, redirecting the momentum of your opponents blow away from you, while allowing yourself control of their outside line, cutting a fendente to their head or across their arms. If the opponent attempts to attack your legs in the time of the colpo, you'll slip the leg and throw a fendente to their head.

With the first three masters of wide play, Fiore gives three specific crossings. The first crossing is at the tip of the sword, the second is at the middle of the sword, while the third is in response to an opponent striking at a deep target on their first intention (i.e., the peasant blow) and is instead redirected.

The tempo here is born from the opponent making no attempt to find your sword or create a crossing on the sword, like the one we saw by the priest in I.33, and simply cutting to wound. This is dall’Agocchie's tempo of a blow going past. Unsurprisingly, this same action shows up numerous times in Marozzo’s spada da dui mani section (Marozzo’s guardia di entrare with the spada dui mani), with a variety of different set-ups, usually provoked by letting the sword fall into porta di ferro larga, encouraging the opponent to cut strongly at the head.

Turning back to the second master of the sword in wide play, where the weapons cross at the half sword (mezza spada): here the scholar is instructed to either strike down across the arms, or to seize the blade with their left hand, as is demonstrated here.

Once the sword is captured, before the opponent can wrest it free, the scholar is charged with striking with a cut or thrust, or destroy(ing) [their] leg…by stomping with [your] foot against the side of his knee or under the kneecap (Getty; Hatcher, Wiktenauer)—in typical Fiore fashion. These progressions are all predicated by the resistance rendered by the opponent on your blade.

Next we’ll examine the first master of the narrow play. First, notice the crossing: rather than at the tip, or the half sword, the master is crossed below the half, and here he has his right foot forward indicating that he’s stepped-in either in the parry or the blow.

From this deeper crossing Fiore says that, “(t)he play is given to whoever knows more and is swifter.” (Pisani Dosi; Chidester, Wiktenauer) This is advice we see echoed by the Bolognese masters in their mezza spada sections. The reason for this is simply that the left hand becomes a threat, as we’ve illustrated throughout this section on Fiore.

In this progression we see the scholar respond to the deep crossing by either seizing the opponent’s sword between their hands (on the handle), or gripping the outside of the oponent’s arms and smashing their teeth in with the pommel.

Fiore outlines the difference in the two actions. First the opponent comes to the mezza spada and does nothing: “I would strike, and I will hold your sword; restrained by no (p)ledge, you conduct yourself so disgracefully”, or if they knock or push your sword aside, opening to their outside line: “I strike to your face using this hilt, obviously ferocious. This because you had knocked the sword using the deepest touch.” (Paris; Brown and Garber, Wiktenauer)

It's important to note that doing nothing is a tempo rendered at the half sword. What we can see here is that—just as in I.33—we’re drawn back into the tactics of the Anonymous author, in that, “if you wish to throw some attack without knowing the tempo, you will do so blindly and will be unable to make it well.” (Anonimo; Fratus, pg. 64)

What we can decide from this foray into Fiore is that tempo is still paramount. While the master notes that these plays can be done attacking or defending, both modes of attack are predicated on either a well-formed defense followed by counter attacking, or controlling the sword with a crossing and responding based on the opponent’s movement in response. This leads us back to Giganti’s succinct delineation, “it is the movement of the sword that creates a tempo, and these tempi come from the attacks of the sword.” (Giganti; Vansteenkiste, Wiktenauer)

In truth, Fiore’s predilection toward basing his larga and stretta sections on the depth of the crossing is a trope we see played out time and again in the Italian fencing corpus. It's this author’s opinion that Fiore would find commonality with the KdF glosses, any of the Bolognese masters in the 16th Century (unsurprising, considering Lancellotto Beccaria, his protegee, helped train the militias in Bologna) and would probably really enjoy the works of Sandro Francesco Altoni and—wait for it—Salvator Fabris, Niccolò Giganti, and Rodolfo Cappo Ferro. As you'll see in our discussion of obligare and counter guards in the conclusion.

Kunst des Fechtens

For those unacquainted with KdF, here are some terms and definitions that will help you follow along with the subsequent discussion.

Terms:

• Vor: Before

• Nach: After

• Indes: In between, inside, within or during

• Schwech: Weak

• Stark: Strong

• Shlag: Strike

Guards: Hut & Vier Leger

• Hut: Guard

• Pflug: Plow; middle guard, held left or right

• Ochs: Ox; high guard, held left or right

• Alber: Fools guard, low point down

• Vom Tag: From the roof, at the shoulder or above the head—ready to strike.

• Longpoint: Point directed at the opponent, hands about the middle of the body with squared hips.

Actions of the Sword:

• Oberhau: Strike from above

• Unterhau: Strike from below

• Sheilhau: Cockeyed strike;

• Scheitelhau: Peak strike;

• Twerhau: Cross Strike or Thwart cut;

• Zornhau: Warth strike;

• Krumphau; Crooked strike

• Ort; point; used as a modifier to denote a thrust {Zornhau ort}

• Stich; Stab or thrust

Let’s start this off with addressing the elephant in the room. Vor, Nach; Strech, Scwech, Indes: a number of change with respect to the before and after. There is perhaps nothing more Aristotelian than these five words. As the texts tell us:

First mark and remember that Liechtenaur’s /Fencing is aligned at the Five Words / Vor , Nach, Schwach , Stark, Indes; these are the / principles and the fundament of all fighting…

…The five words of Liechtenauer are describing qualities in opposite categories. This is based on the philosophy of Aristotle.

—3227A; 64r-65r (Kleinau; Talhoffer Blog)

Vor is the before, it's used to denote advantage. Nach is the after, and is used to denote when one is behind in tempo, i.e., they are defending or parrying or weak compared to their opponent. Indes is within or during and is used to denote a moment or tempi when the opponent moves to reclaim strength or weakens to cut around. Just like we saw with Fiore, tempos arise from motions of the sword, in the KdF tradition, the initiative or Vor is gained by forcing the opponent into a weak position (sometimes a parry, sometimes a disadvantageous bind), whereby you can manipulate the crossing and the tempo rendered to proceed with an attack. Actions discussed in the Nach are meant to regain the initiative by reclaiming strength, though the term Nach is used as an adverb to denote a consecutive action that follows the termination of the initial blow as well.

We can see a similar principle of tempo, that's outlined by the words Vor and Nach, used in chess, where time is defined as a turn, and one gains tempo, “(w)hen a player achieves a desired result in one fewer move,” and “conversely, when a player takes one more move than necessary, the player is said to ‘lose a tempo’. Similarly, when a player forces their opponent to make moves not according to their initial plan, one is said to ‘gain tempo’ because the opponent is wasting moves. A move that gains a tempo is often called ‘a move with tempo’.” (Wikipedia; Tempo)

This gives rise to the five cuts (fünff hewe/meisterhau {Meyer}) of the Liechtenauer tradition. They can steal back the initiative, the Vor, or gain tempo, by achieving a strong position.

Zornhau Ort:

When your opponent cuts at you with an oberhau, you respond with a wrathful hew, or Zornhau, and then shoot the point toward their chest. “By this, Liechtenauer means that when someone begins to cut over you, counter it by cutting wrathfully in and then firmly shoot your point against them.” (3227A; Trosclair, Wiktenauer)

Twerhau:

The twerhau is also used to reclaim the vor: “when you cut across correctly, you counter and defend against everything that comes from above (meaning the high cuts and whatever else goes downward from above).” (3227A; Trosclair, Wiktenauer)

Shielhau:

So too does the Shielhau: “And this cut breaks that which the buffalo, that is a peasant, might strike down from above as they tend to do. (Just like the crosswise cut breaks this as well, as was written before).” (3227A; Trosclair; Wiktenauer)

The actions outlined are all done in contratempo or mezzo tempo.

Contratempo interrupts the opponent’s tempo, or happens in the time between the opponent’s starting destination and their final destination or guard position (often longpoint). Mezzo tempo means that they are smaller actions than the tempo of the opponent’s attack; they are half time. While the five hews can be used as Vorshlag, to “break” guards, the precept of achieving the vor is still predicated on the advantage of a strong position in relation to your opponent.

The tactical necessity of these devices is outlined by Liechtenauer’s assertion that the person striking the Vorshlag has initiative—which they do—and these specific hews reclaim the initiative by both attacking and defending in tempo.

It’s important to note that concept of initiative is not unique. While some authors disagree on which mode of tempo is best to find your counterattack (i.e., contra tempo, dui tempo, mezzo tempo, etc.), all of them outline devices dependent on these principles, with the objective of gaining a strong position.

As Liechtenauer was aware, you may want to be the first to strike, but that doesn’t always mean you will be. In the later Italian and Imperial fencing traditions, this idea of initiative is known as obligare, or obligation, or putting the opponent in obedience.

The Vorshlag and Nachschlag

Now to conclude our brief discussion of the Liechtenauer tradition, we will examine the concepts of Vorshalg and Nachschlag.

Here, Liechtenauer says that the Vorschlag must be followed with a Nachschlag, whether the attack succeeds or fails. In the northern Italian tradition this is known as redoublement. Note that tense and definition slightly shifts here. The author, Pseudo-Hans Döbringer, uses both forms of the verb, one that denotes its place in time and one that denotes initiative. The Nachschlag is the follow-on action, drawing back to the precepts of Aristotle, that the time between the before and after has elapsed, and the position is now in the after of the Vorschlag, thus it is a Nachschlag.

{For this next part Vor and Nach; capitalized and in italics will denote initiative, and vor and nach; lowercase and emboldened will denote time.}

A good way to think about this is that one claims the Vor by striking first. The action of the sword still follows the path of time, where it is indes, from the vor to the nach. The follow-up strike, or nachschlag, should happen in continuation of the Vorschlag at its completion (whether it hits or misses); i.e., when it has come to the nach. Prior to this, the path of the Vorschlag may be interrupted—indes—by the opponent (with the five hews, let’s say), whereby the the Vor shifts to the opponent, in which case their nachschlag (redoublement) will be in the Vor.

The conduct of the Nachshlag is determined by the other two words, strong and weak, where you will use fuhlen, and act Indes according to quality of the engagement.

In this context, we see that the speed at which one reacts with the second action (nachschlag) is paramount. At this we can shift back to the supposition of Fiore and I.33. Whereby I am again obliged to be the first to react whether in the Vor or Nach, offense or defense, based on the crossing of the swords, and I would be remiss not to remind the reader of the anonymous author’s wisdom, “Because if you wish to throw some attack without knowing the tempo, you will do so blindly and will be unable to make it well, insofar as it is necessary to first know the tempo and then to make the attack, if you wish to proceed artfully.” (Anonimo; Fratus, pg. 64)

How you proceed, again, is of course determined by the two words, Schwech (weak) Stark (strong); which is the Aristotelian concept of the quality of opposites, as Pseudo-Hans Döbringer points out.

Once more, this a principle we saw outlined in Fiore, where if the opponent comes to the crossing of the swords and does nothing: “I would strike, and I will hold your sword; restrained by no (p)ledge, you conduct yourself so disgracefully” (Getty; Hatcher; Wiktenauer), or if they knock or push your sword aside (strong; Strech), opening to their outside line: “I strike to your face using this hilt, obviously ferocious. This because you had knocked the sword using the deepest touch.” (Getty; Hatcher; Wiktenauer)

Children of the Renaissance

Literacy in Italy from the 15th to the 16th century rose from 15% to 18%. For perspective, in 1451 literacy in Holy Roman Empire was at 9%, the Kingdom of France was at 6%, England was at 5% and Spain (the Kingdoms of Aragon and Castille) was at 3%. By the turn of the 16th century those countries started to catch up, with the Kingdom of France climbing to an astounding 19%, while the Empire and England reached a respectable 16% and the now Most Catholic Monarchy (Spain) remained at a staggering 4% by 1501.5

In university cities like Bologna, Padua and parts of Rome, literacy rates were much higher. To illustrate, at the beginning of the 16th century Florence had 2-4 grammarians teaching primary school education on the rolls of the city government; Bologna in 1385—a century earlier—had 2-3 per district (9), by 1439 they had 4 per district (16), 8 per district in 1480 (32), and 12 per district by 1489 (48), all funded by the university.6

The typical education in the common Latin primary schools looked something like this: Guarino di Verona’s Regulae, Cato, Ovid, Vergil, Cicero, Caesar, Macrobius, Homer, and of course Aristotle.7 I should note that much of the Greek and Aristotelian education really came about in the later years of students’ development, and most of the Aristotelian corpus was reserved for the university level.

In the 13th and 14th century Aristotle’s works saw many of their ethical and philosophical principles challenged. In France his corpus was periodically banned (especially in Paris where students murdered each other in the streets over academic disagreements over his material, and the utility of Averroes), yet in spite of the ecclesiastical controversy that followed the philosopher’s work, for much of Christian world his ideas of Physics and Mathematics remained a less controversial standard.8

As education improved, and more cities began to take the matter more seriously, the deeper ideals of the early humanist education started to slip into fencing treatises. The first author we see take a stab at this is Fillipo Vadi.

Fillipo Vadi

For those unacquainted with Vadi’s work, here are some terms and definitions that will help you follow along with the subsequent discussion.

Terms:

• Largo: Wide distance; requires a step to strike.

• Mezza Spada: A middle distance where the swords cross.

• Stretto: Grappling distance

• Mezzo Tempo: A half tempo, comes from the wrist.

Guards:

• Posta Sagitaria

• Posta di Corona

• Posta di Flacon

• Posta di Vera Sinestra

• Posta Frontali

• Posta Breve

• Posta di Donna

• Posta Lunga

• Posta di Cingiaro

• Porta di Ferro Terrena

• Porta di Ferro Forte

• Posta di Denti Cinghiare

Actions of the Sword:

• Fendente: A descending cut; from the right or left.

• Rota: An ascending c cut; from the right {true edge} or left {false edge}.

• Volanti: Horizontal cut; from the right {true edge} or left {false edge}.

• Punta: Thrust

Vadi is the first extant source that we are aware of that discusses tempo. It’s important to note that all of the evidence we have of a potential Filippo Vadi in the historical record points to a man who was highly educated. The minted coin with his likeness in the Estense Library digital archive says that Filipo Vadi was a doctor of Medicine. Similarly, there is record of a Philippo Vadi, who served as the governor (Podesta?) of Reggio under Leonello d’Este until his death when he became the councilor for Borso d’Este from 1452 to 1470.9 There is little doubt that Leonello and his half brother Borso would’ve been raised with the teachings of Fiore di Liberi, and the manuscripts dedicated to their father Niccolò III d'Este in their knightly training, and together they provide a compelling set-point for Filippo’s exposure to Fiore’s teachings.

According to the FFAMHE, Filippo Vadi’s brother Lodovico served under Niccolò III d'Este as a military commander and was given the title Potente, or the powerful, circa 1440.10 Given his role, Ludovico eventually moved to Ferrarese territory (Santa Maria in 1440, then San Ilario d’Enza in 1457) with his brother Filippo and their families. In 1445 Filippo became the governor of Reggio.11 Around 1457, while Vadi was serving as a councilor to Borso d’Este, he had a coin commissioned with his likeness, the front bears the title PHILIPPVS DE VADIS DE PISIS CHIRONEM SVPERANS, or Phillipo Vadi of Pisa, dominating Chiron, which the FFAMHE relates, “In Greek mythology, Chiron is an immortal centaur, a great physician, also versed in music, divination and hunting. This tells us that Philippo Vadi was a physician renowned for his skills.”12

The reason why Vadi’s background and education are important is because they render a window into the unseen for treatises like Fiore di Libre. In this article I have implied the presence of tempo as it relates to the images present in the text, but here we have a third generation student of the master’s system (through their constituents: 1.) Niccolò III d'Este, 2.) Leonello or Borso d’Este, 3) Filippo Vadi) relating the master’s work in a modern context with an early Renaissance education. The same tropes and themes appear, but with a more scientific understanding. Or as Vadi puts it:

Measure and Tempo:

     And if you heed my doctrines,
     You’ll know how to answer with reason
     And pluck the rose from the thorns.

     To make your opinion clearer,
     And to sharpen your intellect,
     So you may be able to answer to everyone:

     Music adorns her and chooses her as its subject,
     Song and sound are added to the art,
     To make it a more perfect science.

     So Geometry and Music combine
     Their scientific virtues in the sword,
     To adorn the great light of Mars.

                             —Vadi (Windsor; Wiktenauer)

There are echoes of Filippo Dardi’s reflection that, “(G)eometry, resembles the skill of fencing because in fencing there is nothing but proper measure.” (Fillippo Dardi (1443); Dean & Stokes Transcription and Translation) As Dardi was himself a doctor of Geometry and Astrology commenting on the art of fencing from a academic perspective, the parallel and sea change from art to science is intriguing. Of course, Vadi is more elegant and thorough than the obscure one-off line we have preserved from Dardi’s letter. It’s worth noting that this notion was later espoused again in the 17th century works of Salvator Fabris, where he says, “We have shunned the use of geometrical terms, although swordsmanship has its foundations more in geometry than in any other science. Simply and as naturally as possible we have tried to bring the art within the capacity of all.” (A.F. Johnson; Wiktenauer).

In music, like fencing, the reintroduction of classical concepts gave birth to a more sophisticated approach to the discussion and theorization of the art. Starting in about the 1420’s the devices of tactus, mensuration, and rhythm were introduced as guidelines to coordinate musical ensembles. Tactus in particular was, “a unit of time indicated by the raising and lowering of the hand” (Hooker, A brief history of tempo)—a concept that’s in no way foreign to the art of fencing.13 Again, this brings our discussion of time back to Aristotle, where time is defined as the motion between two positions of rest or a number of change with respect to the before and after.

Or perhaps one can better surmise this with the words of Johannes Liechtenauer, “This you should grasp: All arts have length and measure.” (Trosclair; Wiktenauer)

Transitioning on the principle of a raised hand dictating tempo, one of the key concepts we’ve seen illustrated in parallel from I.33 to KdF, is the execution of actions preceded by a crossing.

     When you wish to enter into half sword 
     As the companion, lifts his sword
     Then don’t hold back
     Grab the tempo or it will cost you dear.

This is of course Giovanni dall’Agocchie’s third tempo of attack—when they raise their weapon to attack. But leaving the Bolognese authors aside for a moment, let’s draw another parallel between Vadi and the Liechtenauer tradition, to satisfy the objective of this article in a more resolute manner. From the gloss of Sigmund ain Ringeck, “When the opponent comes before such that you must parry them, swiftly work Indes to the nearest opening during the parry, so that you hit them the moment before they accomplish their play.” (Trosclair; Wiktenauer)

From defense to offense, we can add, “just as the swords spark together, whether they have bound soft or hard, and as soon as you have perceived that, think of the word "in-the-moment"; that is, in that same swift perceiving of the soft and of the hard, you shall work to the nearest opening, so [he] becomes struck before he will have his insight.” (Trosclair; Wiktenauer)

Vadi’s words unify the approach (like his predicesor Fiore):

Instruction of the sword: 

     It is necessary that the sword should be
     A great shield that covers all of you,
     And grasp this fruit,
     That I give you for your instruction.

     Be sure that your sword is never far away
     In making guards or striking
     Oh how sensible this thing is,
     That your sword makes short movements.

     Make it so your point watches the face
     Of the companion, in guard or striking,
     You will take away his courage,
     Seeing always the point staying in front of him.

     And you will make your plays always forwards,
     With your sword and with a small turn,
     With a serene and relaxed hand,
     Often breaking the tempo of the companion,
     You will weave a web better than a spider’s.

To which we can add, “This is what you shall quite precisely note when one with a cut or with a thrust or otherwise binds against your sword: whether they are soft or hard upon the sword. And when you have sensed this, you shall know Indes which is the best: whether you rush upon them with the before or with the after. But you shall not allow yourself to be too hasty with your war with your onrush. For the war is nothing other than the windings upon the sword.” (Trosclair; Wiktenauer)

Vadi agrees:

     It is necessary that no one contradicts this
     Because you will be stronger, and more secure
     Hard in defence 
     And make war with the shortest motion
     And neither can anyone make you fall.

The point that I’m trying to make here—if it hasn’t become clear—is that the same concepts can be explained with tempo in mind and what acting in tempo seeks to achieve, in a way that enriches the discussion of the medieval authors. Vadi is not Fiore— though he is unequivocally inspired by the Friulian master—nor is his text directly related to the Liechtenauer tradition, and yet we can read the same tropes further outlined with the principles of scientific reasoning buried in his prose.

To this consensus we can add authors like Marozzo and Manciolino at the turn of the 16th century. Marozzo’s Opera Nova lends insight to the earlier discussion of indes with the following: “You should hold it to be a certain factor that no one who is attacked when raising out of a guard, or in falling from a guard, can perform any counter except for an instinctive response as if he knew nothing…But if perchance you were to attack him when he was neither rising nor falling, be advised that he could interrupt your intention with a variety of blows. So if you wish for honor, be attentive, and look to attack him as he rises or falls from his guard with his counters.” (Marozzo, Capitolo 171; Swanger, pg. 256)

Manciolino’s Opera Nova says much the same thing: “Since no blow can be reasonably performed without ending in a guard, the virtue of a fencer is to be found in the raising and lowering of the guards. In consequence of this principle, he who renews his attack before settling in guard will be more apt to win. This is because it is easier to attack an opponent whose action is interrupted.” (Manciolino; Leoni, pg. 112)

One thing that should have become apparent with that jaunt forward in time, is that the approach of these later authors stands apart from the poetic prose of Vadi, and laconic simplicity of the medieval masters, as we see in Marozzo and Manciolino a more rhetorical and vade mecum approach to discussing the art of fencing. Less Virgil and more Cicero, which is unsurprising given the focus on education in Bologna we discussed earlier.

But before we drift too far from Vadi, I want to highlight an excellent article by Jamie MacIver that relates plays and principles in Vadi to Giovanni dall’Agocchie’s five tempos of attack, which you can read here. This is an incredibly important article, and deserves your attention.

Here we have two authors almost a century a part harmonizing on the tempo’s of fencing. For the sake of brevity, I’ll summarize by only highlighting each tempo and corresponding play as they’re outlined in the article. Many thanks to Jamie MacIver for giving me permission to share this.

1st Tempo: When you’ve made a parry.

Vadi, Chapter 3:     
     Know that skill always defeats natural ability,
     Cover and then immediately attack,
     And in wide or close [play] you will defeat strength.
                                             (MacIver)

2nd Tempo: When their blow goes past.

Vadi, Chapter 8:
     Your sword is lost when striking with a cut
      If during the strike your point moves off-line 
                                              (MacIver)

3rd Tempo: When they raise their sword to strike.

Vadi, Chapter 10:
     When you wish to enter to middle play
     As your partner lifts their sword
     Decide not to stay at bay
     And seize the tempo so that it does not 
     cost you dearly
                                               (MacIver)

4th Tempo: Injudiciously change guard.

Vadi, Chapter 16:    
     Beware that your sword never remains
     Far away from you, either when in
     guard or while striking
                                                 (MacIver)

Vadi, Chapter 17:
     Often I [the thrust] force the guards to move
     When someone throws me to confront them
                                                   (MacIver)

Vadi, Chapter 13:
     From one side you strike
     Your feint goes to the other
     And as their parry loses its way
     You can hammer to another target
                                                    (MacIver)

5th Tempo: As they raise their foot.

 Vadi, Chapter 3:  
     And when you have found [the correct measure]
     As I say here, do not lose [the tempo]
     When you see that they move their sword,
     Or they make too large a step
     Or you retreat, or they seek to close in
                                                      (MacIver)

The reason I wanted to use elements of this piece and highlight Jamie’s work is because I think it beautifully illustrates how tempo gives rise to tactics. Tempo is the b variable in equation of fencing, measure is our a, and we’re solving for x, which is simply how to strike our opponent without being struck. We see this wonderfully outlined in Chapter 3 of Vadi, where he says, “And when you have found [the correct measure]; As I say here; do not lose [the tempo]; When you see that they move their sword; Or they make too large a step; Or you retreat; or they seek to close in.” (MacIver) Find the measure and seek the tempo.

There is however a fourth variable that comes into play when we are attacking, and this is where provocations come in handy. Our y variable is the guard our opponent is in, and if you deliver an attack without first solving for y, you’ll inevitably double. So, we have to figure the y with our a and b, before we can solve x, and this is usually done by attacking the opponent to provoke them into a tempo, which Vadi highlights beautifully with the following: “Often I [the thrust] force the guards to move; When someone throws me to confront them,” (MacIver) and, “From one side you strike; Your feint goes to the other; And as their parry loses its way; You can hammer to another target.” (MacIver)

Without digressing any further into tactics, allow me to discuss one last point that will become relevant in a moment, and represents a contentious argument among authors in the 16th and 17th century—mezzo tempo.

Vadi says this of mezzo tempo: “I cannot show you in writing; The theory and way of the half tempo; Because the shortness of the tempo and its strike; Reside in the wrist; The half tempo is just one turn; Of the wrist: quick and immediately striking; It can rarely fail; When it is done in good measure.” (Windsor; Wiktenauer)

The Anonimo both agrees and disagrees with this in the following word salad: “In the art of the sword there is no such thing as a half tempo because all are simply tempi, but because of the half attack, in this art of the sword we have things we call a half tempo. And so the term half attack comes to form the term half tempo, but in the usage of the sword all actions are simply tempi; one may find tempi that must be made with greater quickness, and so it will be necessary to make the blows or cuts with greater speed; but because very often a fighter will want to make an attack at the enemy in the shortest time possible and will stop their sword in a stretta guard, some will call this occurrence a half tempo, by reason of the half attack, but nevertheless it will be a tempo.” (Fratus, pg. 64)

This notion, as convoluted as it seems, sticks with the Anonymous author’s core principle that any movement of the sword is simply a tempo, but also fits with Aristotle's digressions on the characteristics of time and motion.

It also affords us a nice transition into the Bolognese authors.

The Opera Novas of Marozzo and Manciolino

Antonio Manciolino opens his New Work with a number of statements about tempo. Perhaps the best place to start is with a reflection that anyone who has ever picked up a sword can relate, “Fencers who deliver many blows without any measure or tempo may indeed reach the opponent with one of their attacks; but this will not redeem them of their bad form, being the fruit of chance rather than skill. Instead we call gravi & appostati14 those who seek to attack their opponent with tempo and elegance.” (Leoni, pg. 112) Arguably we could categorize this as a commentary on a principle at the heart of what will later become dall’Agocchie's 5th tempo of attack.

Of the early Bolognese masters, Antonio Manciolino was likely the most educated. He discusses Aristotle's quality of opposites when he goes on a tangent about the difference between the art of fencing and dueling law (which may be a subtle jab at Marozzo—who knows?). He also references Aristotle when he defines the qualities of a master, stating, “Nobody can be deemed perfect in this art (as well as in others) unless he can impart his knowledge to others. As the Philosopher said in the Ethics, the mark of the expert is the ability to teach.” (Leoni, pg. 113) I believe Manciolino is referencing Aristotle’s Metaphysics, though he could be paraphrasing a number of passages in Nicomachean Ethics.

So, what else does our wise and principled guide to Renaissance martial arts have to say about tempo? We’re going on a bit of a journey here that extends beyond just tempo, so bear with me. Manciolino’s first quote on tempo is, “The most admirable of all blows is the mandritto, because it is the most virtuous and noble, since it is more dangerous and awkward to perform. Using the mandritto is more dangerous than using the riverso because it causes you to be completely uncovered in that tempo—this is why it is deemed more noble” (Leoni, pg. 110)

Let’s pause here for a second and recognize the general fencing principle that Manciolino is highlighting. Giving up or exposing your outside line (that is, the right side of your body) is always dangerous. Moreover, an exorbitant number of plays and devices we see in the entirety of the historical fencing corpus are aimed at controlling the outside line. It shows up in Liechtenauer; “Therefore orchestrate it that you are the first in all confrontations of fencing and arrive on the right side of someone, where you are robustly surer of everything than the opponent” (3227A; Trosclair, Wiktenauer). As well as in I.33, Fiore, Vadi, and the Bolognese corpus.

I feel like that needed to be expressed so people understood exactly what Manciolino is talking about. When you cut a mandritto, the attack travels from right to left, and exposes the outside line in the tempo of the cut, where a roverso—going left to right—closes the outside line. This is outlined in Viggiani:

Moving on we’ll see Manciolino discuss the first of dall’Agocchie's 5 tempos of attack:

This is of course, dall’Agocchie’s 2nd tempo of attack, when their blow goes past. He follows this up by highlighting the 1st tempo—when you've made a defense—with one of my favorite lines in his book.

To the third tempo of attack, Manciolino outlines two principles, one of provocation, and one rooted in contratempo. The first regarding provocation states the following:

This is the foundation of the principle of provocation outlined by Giovanni dall'Agocchie some forty years later in his Dell'Arte di Scrima Libri Tre, where he states:

This draws us back to the core focus we came to understand in Vadi, where he says, “Often I [the thrust] force the guards to move” and later expounds, “From one side you strike; Your feint goes to the other; And as their parry loses its way; You can hammer to another target.” (Windsor; Wiktenauer)

Similarly, in the Liechtenauer tradition, “Because if you execute the Vorschlag, whether you hit or miss, you then always execute the Nachschlag in one fluid motion, swiftly and quickly so that the opponent cannot come to blows with anything and you shall orchestrate it in such a way that you always preempt the opponent in all situations of fencing.” (Trosclair, Wiktenauer) Though the underlying principle remains the same, there is a pointed difference that needs to be elaborated upon.

There's a subtle variation in the way Manciolino and dall’Agocchie anticipate the response of the opponent, and it's worth taking a moment to outline for the sake of a thorough analysis.

Our Bolognese authors are working off of the principle that the opponent will be as knowledgeable and skilled as they are, that they’ll adhere to the principles that they've already outlined in their text, assuming that when you throw an attack your opponent will act in tempo (dall’Agocchie's 1st; when you've made a parry), and counter attack—Just as you should not strike without parrying, you should not parry without striking—always observing the correct tempi. (Manciolino; Leoni, pg. 111)

Now, the same reasoning is outlined in the zettel and glossed by the authors of the KdF tradition, “If you are obligated to not execute the Vorschlag, you always have the Nachschlag available in the sense and in the spirit that you are always in motion and do not either dawdle nor hesitate with anything. Rather, you always conduct one after the other swiftly and quickly, so that the opponent cannot possibly come to anything.” (3227a; Trosclair, Wiktenauer)

Which makes the following so much more impactful, “just as the swords spark together, whether they have bound soft or hard, and as soon as you have perceived that, think of the word "in-the-moment"; that is, in that same swift perceiving of the soft and of the hard, you shall work to the nearest opening, so [he] becomes struck before he will have his insight.” (3227a; Trosclair, Wiktenauer)

Not to be too disparaging here, but the general lack of exploring these principles leads to a style of fencing that we see a lot in competitive HEMA tournaments, and it's perhaps on account of a misconception. I say that because we have an observation from Angelo Viggiani, where he states, “CON: When I think over that which you have said to me just now, I find a clear example in the Germans, who, coming to an armed brawl, deliver a blow per man, and delivering the blow, stop in guard in order to wait for their companion to deliver his, and withhold theirs, and then redouble; behold the two rests with a motion in the middle.” (Viggiani; Swanger, pg. 28)

This of course is coming from Viggiani’s muse Conte d’Agomonte, the Count Egmont, whose authoritatively relating something he hypothetically would have observed as a courtier in the retinue of Charles V, where he was a peer of Albrecht Dürer. Though this observation is likely ascertained from Viggiani’s personal experience with the court fencing masters of the Holy Roman Emperor, given his position and dedication, and related through the authority of his muse.

Which leads us directly to our next quote pertaining to dall’Agocchie’s 3rd tempo of attack, highlighted by Antonio Manciolino, where he provides us with insight, on how to deal with an opponent who understands the outlined principles, echoes Viggiani’s observation, and flushes out our inclusion of the 3227a text above.

When it becomes clear that your opponent is skilled in and well versed in the principles of the 1st tempo, making basic provocations more difficult to execute, whereunto their ability to respond with a treat means that simply creating openings to make their parry lose its way no longer bears its tactical acumen, then striking indes, or in contratempo, becomes paramount. We turn to the third tempo. Here, one can view the five hews in their ultimate glory. Add the Krumphau for good measure, and we can see the art and execution of the KdF tradition aligned in harmony with the contemporary and later Italian authors.

While there are preclusions to a unanimous consent on a unified tactical delineation, the precept of tempo, and how to find those advantages indes or in tempo are ubiquitous.

Like Vadi pointed out, there is a third tactical device that can ensure our fencing is both gravi & appostati, and that is mezzo tempo. Paraphrasing the general tactical advice of all the fencing masters once again, as the distance between you and your opponent narrows, so too should the tempo of your actions. Whether you're transitioning from the Zufechten to the Krieg, Gioco Largo to Gioco Stretto, or any of the variations we’ve seen, movements of the sword are proportional to distance.

Rationalizing in this way takes the Anonymous author’s word salad above and gives it some semblance of balance. Any movement of the sword is a tempo, but smaller tempos—mezzo tempos—are usually executed by performing half cuts or tramazzone (cuts with the wrist; a la Vadi), and take half the time, but are still simply tempi. As to be expected, this is clearly outlined in Manciolino’s Opera Nova:

From Manciolino we’ll turn to Marozzo, who speaks of time regularly. He uses the word tempo 192 times in his Opera Nova, but the discussion of tempo in Marozzo is predominantly related to the movement of the sword in conjunction with the body. This minutia of detail is interesting, and gives the reader a clear sense of body mechanics, but it's a topic for another time. Since I've already used one of Marozzo’s better quotes pertaining to tempo above, I'm going to focus in on one other passage before we transition into Viggiani, and bring this discussion to its natural conclusion.

This statement echoes Manciolino’s gravi & appostati quote but frames it in terms of the art of fencing from the mezza spada and with pressa. Manciolino lays out a similar sentiment in his mezza spada, stating, “This type of play is first among all others. He who does not understand it perfectly and does not have an excellent foundation in it will never be a good Master. No matter how good a fencer, how skilled in the defense and how quick with his hands, he will be unable to teach the true art to others, since the true art consists in being strongest and most resilient. Rather than knowledgeable, these fencers should more aptly be considered to be lucky when they score a hit.” (Manciolino; Leoni, pg. 153)

There's a theme brewing here, that artful, skillful fencing is done from the crossing of the swords. The means by which you get there is varied, but when the edges bite, or the blades spark—that's where the magic happens. It doesn't matter if you're reading I.33, Fiore, Döbringer and the Geselschaft Liechtenauers, Vadi, or Marozzo and Manciolino, we have a few hundred years of sword fighting history in lockstep on the notion that art of fencing lies in the ability of a practitioner to read and react with cunning and speed from crossing of the swords.

Pleasantly, Marozzo provides some insight as to how he perceives the tempi are used. “Yet I tell you that there are few people who display clarity when they’re at the half-sword, whereas those who understand and know how to enter into and exit from those two modes of the half-sword are excellent and perfect fencers, who are familiar with tempi; whereas those who don’t know how to perform the aforesaid art can’t recognize tempi, nor mezzi tempi, so they cannot be perfect fencers.” (Marozzo; Swanger, pg. 111) Tempi and mezzatempo actions are used to enter and exit the crossings safely. They’re a means to the end of artful fencing.

I think it’s important to examine the tempos of attack again with some of the fresh insights we’ve gained. We’re going to return to Giganti’s more elaborate explanation of tempo, correlate his definitions with dall’Agocchie, and see how this fits into the larger tactical picture that necessitates tempo.

For perspective, here are Giganti’s Tempo’s (italics) outlined above headed by dall’Agocchie’s tempos of attack (bold).

1. When you have made a parry: If he throws, parrying and wounding in one tempo is also a tempo.

2. When their blow goes past.

3. When they raise their weapon to attack: If he disengages, in the disengagement he can be wounded, and this is a tempo.

4. When they injudiciously change guard: If he changes guard, while he changes is a tempo.

5. When they take a step: If he binds to come to measure, while he walks before he arrives at measure is a tempo to wound him.

What these tempos do is take the initiative, seize the vor by acting indes, they put the opponent in obedience, or to go back to our chess relation; gain tempi. Once a fencer has tempo, they proceed to attack with impunity. When a fencer is out of tempo, they have to seek the tempos of attack to reclaim tempo, so they can strike their opponent safely. If that sounds like our earlier discussion of vor, nach; strech, schwech, indes, that’s because it is.

If there is one common consensus around anything in fencing, it’s the objective: strike your opponent without being struck. Understanding tempo, from perspectives of both initiative and movement will go a long way to making anyone a better fencer. It will give their art gravi & appostati.

Angelo Viggiani dal Montone

Angelo Viggiani was a mid-16th century fencing master born in Bologna around 1516. His family were of the patrician class of Bolognese nobility, and were longtime members of the Bentivogleschi faction (dating back to the 14th century), which forms the nexus of the Bolognese fencing tradition from Dardi to dall’Agocchie. Perhaps the most famous Viggiani was the great knight, diplomat and doctor of law Melchiore Viggiani, who was active in the mid 15th century, under the Sigoria of Annibale I Bentivoglio. The skillful practice of the art of arms wasn’t unique to the unparalleled prowess of Melchiore however; in the wake of the great scion’s death, both Spezza and Nanne Viggiani showed a tremendous aptitude for the art in the recorded events of their lives.

The Viggiani (Vizzani/Vizani) family were classically a part of the Ghibelline faction, as denoted by the three fleur de lies on the banner across the top of their ancestral arms. This is a theme inherent throughout books one and two of Angelo Viggiani’s work. In the wake of the family’s split from the Bentivogleschi faction in the late 15th century they seemingly returned to their roots, with Carlo Viggiani serving as a decorated captain in the Emperors service during the Italian Wars, and as such Angelo has a tendency single out families native to Bologna based on their loyalties abroad, identifying them as either Guelf or Ghibelline.

From a fencing perspective, Viggiani’s text lo Schermo provides some fascinating insight because he describes the system of fencing native to Bologna for a German audience (the court of the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V), and as such we get unprecedented look into some of the floor knowledge and colloquial terminology inherent in the Bolognese tradition.

Viggiani starts his third book with a discussion of the three advantages, and builds the conversation into a philosophical explanation of tempo, which is given by his muse Ludovico Boccadiferro, one of the star students of the famous Bolognese Philosopher, and a loyal adherent of the Bentivogleschi faction, Alessandro Achillini.

The advantages are essentially tempos of attack, and they are fueled by the tempos rendered from a prospective opponent. They are:

• Advantage of settling yourself in guard

• Advantage of the strike

• Advantage of the stepping

  ---

Settling yourself in guard:

This is the realm where everything we’ve learned of tempo, crossings, before, after, strong, weak, within, and Aristotle are going to converge. Returning to the concept of tempi in chess, we can understand this passage in the following manner: If I set myself in guard with my point on-line, I will easily be able to act in the time of my opponents approach with an attack. This will force them to defend, rendering a tempo, whereby I will gain tempo (vorshlag, gain initiative; obtain the vor). If my opponent were to be the first to attack, because I am settled in guard, I can quickly defend and counter attack (versetz) forcing another tempo out of them, whereby I will gain a tempo (nachshlag, gain initiative; obtain the vor), or force a crossing. This is facilitated by time. Simply put, if the tempo of my action is smaller than my opponents, and done with the proper structure, I will gain tempo.

From a tactical perspective, the role of the attacker, when forced to uncover an opponent fixed in guard is best outlined by the Anonimo Bolognese, where the author says, “Also, you must know that if you find your enemy in a wide guard, then you will use your art to bring his sword into presence. If he has his sword in presence, then you must, by means of feinting, make him put his sword into a wide guard that allows you to control the line, such that his sword will point away from your person and off to the side of your body, and so you will then be able to perform whatever action you wish.” (Anonimo Bolognse; Fratus, pg 75)

The objective of this principle is to gain tempo; from an attacker’s perspective, this can only be achieved by forcing the fencer fixed in guard to render a tempo (i.e., to move), which is typically achieved by feinting. Meanwhile, the defender must act in the movement of the attacker, and pick the correct tempo to unleash their attack. If both fencers are wrong—they will double. This is the fundamental lesson of advantages. You could reasonably read this as, how to act in tempo or gain tempo rather than the advantages (which applies to our 5 tempos of attack). Here, Viggiani gives the nod of advantage to the fencer who is still fixed in guard, due to the copious tempi that are likely to come from a fencer feinting and moving to try to get their counterpart to move themselves. This is because, as Giganti outlined—way back in the opening of this article—“In every motion of the dagger, sword, foot, and vita {person}, such as changing guard, is a tempo in the way that all these things are tempi—because they contain different intervals.”

This is also the crux of our next two advantages.

Advantage of the Strike

This is on its surface a statement on measure—our a variable listed above in our discussion on provocation. The advantage in striking is when you can deliver your attack by taking the shortest step, a half step. However, Viggiani goes on to clarify:

Returning to the precept of the advantage of being in guard, if we were to wait for our opponent to approach with feints and provocations, as the anonymous author encourages, we will be able to find tempo to attack in one of the following ways: when they throw a blow while stepping or when they raise their sword to attack. This highlights three tempos of attack: when they take a step, when their blow goes past and when they raise their weapon to attack.

• When they take a step: when he would try some blow without being able to reach you.

• When their blow goes past: because he, in disconcertedly attempting his blow.

• When they raise their weapon to attack: or in the elevation of his sword.

For the sake of completeness, the advantage of settling yourself in guard renders the following:

• When you’ve made a defense: you will be able to easily [61R] defend yourself from him for the selfsame reason, he having need of much, and you of little time.

Angelo Viggiani precedes this argument with a discussion on provocation in his terms, echoing the sentiment of the Anonymous author, and highlighting our fifth tempo of attack:

The objective being, to get your opponent’s sword moving, so you can find occasion to settle in guard, and act in tempo, or initiate a counter attack in the tempo of their movement; facilitated by mezo {mezzo} tempo actions. Sound familiar?

• Injudicious guard change: wearying him continuously…because he could easily give you the time and the occasion to seize the advantage of placing yourself in guard.

Advantage of Stepping:

Moving the feet can compromise the structure and integrity of a guard, rendering advantage to the opponent. Catching the opponent in the tempo of that movement, is greatly to your advantage. Viggiani tries to mitigate the disadvantage by encouraging gathering steps when entering measure (i.e., the distance of being able to strike with a step, or a half step).

This all comes together in Viggiani’s summation of the advantages, where he states:

To be in advantage, one must limit the tempos that they are rendering to their opponent. Returning to our Giganti quote, “In every motion of the dagger, sword, foot, and vita {person}, such as changing guard, is a tempo in the way that all these things are tempi—because they contain different intervals.” Those intervals, are a, “a number of change with respect to the before and after.” Indes. Guard, motion, guard. The prerogative of a fencer is to act in tempo to gain tempo. This is not a concept foreign to antiquarian authors, nor their later counterparts. When Liechtenauer says:

Precisely note this
 Cuts, thrusts, position, soft or hard
31	Indes and Before, After
 Without rush, your war is not hasty.
32	For the one whose war takes aim
 Above, they will be shamed below.
33	In all winds
 Cut, stab, slice learn to find
34	Also with that you shall
 Gauge cut, stab or slice
35	In all encounters
 Of the masters, if you wish to dishonor them.
ⅺ	Do not cut to the sword,
 Rather, keep watch for the openings
ⅹⅵ	Of the head, of the body
 If you wish to remain without harm
ⅹⅶ	You hit or miss
 Considering as follows so that you target the openings
ⅹⅷ	In every lesson,
 Turn the point toward the openings.
ⅹⅸ	Whoever cuts around widely,
 They will often be shamed severely.
ⅹⅹ	In the most direct way possible,
 Deliver sudden cuts, stabs wisely.[85]
ⅹⅺ	And one shall also always step
 To their right side
ⅹⅻ	So that you can begin
 Fencing or wrestling with advantage.

                          —3227a (Trosclair; Wiktenauer)

The idea of not rushing the war is, in my opinion, important to note here. While the Gesellshaft Liechtenauer authors are not always consistent about the conduct of the zufechten, the idea that one needs to strike first to claim the vor does not preclude the idea of acting in tempo. To the contrary, as we’ve seen from Vadi to Viggiani, I.33 to Liechtenauer, to wisely seek the openings one needs to act in tempo, this could be indes of the opponent’s approach or a guard change, or in the time of their attack. Regardless, in order to attack safely, one must proceed with advantage, or they risk being struck or stuck in a weak position, and every consideration, when attacking, provoking or defending must gain tempo by acting in tempo. To outline this, Viggiani turns to his muse Ludovico Bocadiferro.

Tempo According to the Philosopher:

To which he later continues:

There you have it, we’ve come full circle, from the philosopher, through the masters, and back to the philosopher. Viggiani highlights the same principles and actions we’ve discussed in our exposès of I.33, Fiore, Liechtenauer, Vadi, Manciolino, and Marozzzo, condenses them into advantages and justifies them with Aristotelian physics.

Viggiani provides a convenient point of summation and conclusion due to the nature of his work. His muses sketch a landscape of the multicultural reality of Bologna in the mid-sixteenth century, and a number of through lines that bring KdF authors one degree of separation from their Bolognese counterparts. Luigi Rodomonte Gonzaga of Mantua (ROD.), was a courtier of Charles V, his peers in the court of the Emperor were Antonio Manciolino’s patron, Don Luis Fernández de Córdoba, while another of Viggiani’s muses Jan IV Comte d’Egmont (CON.); was a knight in the Order of the Golden Fleece and close friend of the emperor, and finally Albrecht Dürer and the ever pernicious Desiderius Erasmus; both of whom spent time in Bologna. Ludovico Bocadiferro (BOC.) as noted above, was the star student of a loyal adherent of the Bentivogleschi faction, Alessandro Achillini, who led a revival of Aristotelian thought in northern Italy and an Ockhamist revolution while teaching at the Alma Mater Studiorum Università di Bologna, and the Università degli Studi di Padova. Bocadiferro for his part, likely visited with Don Luis Fernández de Córdoba, while teaching in Rome, where the duke was serving as the ambassador to Charles V’s boyhood tutor, Adrian VI {Adrian of Utrecht} on behalf of the Empire.

The multicultural cast of characters that Viggiani selected to explain his Schermo is intentional, it highlights the diversity of his audience and allows the author to convey nuances and similarities in fencing practice with the deft touch of a courtly conversation between old friends and acquaintances known to his patron, Charles V. This is important because at its core, Viggiani’s schermo seeks to achieve the same core mission as this article, convey the inherent principles of fencing in a universal manner to a multicultural audience.

With that knowledge in mind, let’s combine these principles into simple rules or guidelines that anyone can follow, and stay mindful of while fencing.

Rules:

3 Advantages:

1. Advantage of settling yourself in guard

2. Advantage of the strike

3. Advantage of the stepping

5 Tempos of Attack:

1. When you have made a parry.

2. When their blow goes past.

3. When they raise their weapon to attack.

4. When they injudiciously change guard.

5. When they take a step.

1 Objective:

1. Strike without being struck

The objective of striking without being struck is achieved by acting with advantage {3 advantages}, in tempo {5 tempos of attack}, to gain the tempi (initiative/vor/obedience) whereby one may safely deliver an attack {success}.

Having tempo, or being in advantage is achieved by one finding themselves in a position of strength {strech} over their opponents sword. This is the crux of obedience, having the Vor, or acting in true resolution (the go ahead to deliver a strike). The tempos achieve these positions, if they're acted upon artfully. Understanding this can provide depth and clarity to the five words of Liechtenauer: Vor, Nach; Strech, Indes Schwech, as well as the tempi outlined by the later Renaissance authors, and gives tremendous insight into the actions performed from crossings and tempos illustrated in Fiore and I.33.

How the 5 tempos of attack achieve Advantage:

Tempos of attack:

1. When you make a defense: If you defend with structure, in the correct guard position, you can achieve a strong position, or a leveraged position from which to attack.

2. When their sword goes past: This can be clarified as when their point is off-line; either in a cut or thrust. Here you can gain mechanical advantage over the opponents sword, or you are in mechanical advantage.

3. When they step: As Viggiani says, when the opponent takes a step, they discommode themselves; ie. sacrifice structure, or mechanical advantage. This includes coming forward with a lunge or half step of the front foot.

4. When they raise their weapon to attack: If you can interrupt this blow before it reaches terminal velocity, and while it is still in a mechanically weak state (the first part of its descent or ascent), you can gain mechanical advantage.

5. When they injudiciously change guard: If they assume a weak position or strengthen at the wrong time in a bind, or when they change guard in measure, you can gain mechanical advantage over their weapon in the tempo of their movement.

This can be further exploited through the following examples:

When I am in a position of strength or leverage, the moment my opponent moves to reclaim that leverage, I can act in tempo (indes) to strike them.

If they do nothing; as Fiore says, “I would strike, and I will hold your sword; restrained by no (p)ledge, you conduct yourself so disgracefully”

I am in the Vor or in tempo (have initiative) when I have achieved a strong position, and I can act Indes or in tempo ~if~ my opponent attempts to strengthen in response. Otherwise I have the initiative to strike without being struck. This is the same presupposition we see outlined in the concepts of obligare and counter guard positions. If I have crossed my opponent with structure, they are forced to strengthen in response, cut around, or cavazione {sfalsata}, to reclaim a position of strength, whereby they will render a tempo, in which I can take advantage to either regain a strong position or strike.

We saw this in I.33, where the scholar driving the priests sword down to stich, gave the priest the options of durchtritt, mutation of the sword, or wrapping his right arm over the scholar’s sword and shield; we saw this in Fiore, where the depth, quality, and position of the opponent’s crossing determined the progression of attack; similarly in KdF, where the one with the Vor, was in a position of strength, and could act Indes of their opponents response. These same principles and tactics are present in Vadi and the works of the Bolognese authors, the trick is getting there safely, as Marozzo outlines, and to do that one must act in tempo, to create an advantageous position, so they can either force a tempo, or act with resolution.

Quotes to remember:

• “In every motion of the dagger, sword, foot, and vita {person}, such as changing guard, is a tempo in the way that all these things are tempi—because they contain different intervals.” (Vansteenkiste; Wiktenauer)

• “Because if you wish to throw some attack without knowing the tempo, you will do so blindly and will be unable to make it well, insofar as it is necessary to first know the tempo and then to make the attack, if you wish to proceed artfully.” (Fratus, pg. 64)

I hope you found this piece resourceful, we will be following this with a number of smaller companion pieces in the near future. In the meantime, if you have any questions or would like to discuss some of the principles outlined in this article, feel free to send us a message, or leave a comment below.

May your fencing ever be both gravi & appostati.

Acknowledgments:

I’m indebted to Christian Trosclair, Pike Pullen, Connor Kemp-Cowell, Jon Han, Max Fishman, Greg Mele, Michael Chidester, Jamie MacIver, James Reilly (who delivered a stern lecture on the 5 words), Jean Chandler, Ben Strickling, Dori Coblentz, David Coblentz, and of course Stephen Fratus and Eric Lowe for reading and helping guide my research on this article. Without you this wouldn’t have been possible.

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Works Cited

1. Coope, Ursula. Time for Aristotle: Physics IV. 10-14. United Kingdom, Clarendon Press, 2006.

2. Hatcher, Colin. Fiore de'i Liberi; Getty Manuscript. Wiktenauer.com. https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Fiore_de%27i_Liberi. Updated 7/2/2024. Accessed 7/8/2024.

3. Maciver, Jamie. Dall’Agochie’s “Five Tempo to Strike” in Vadi. jamiemaciver.wordpress.com. Posted October 7th, 2021. Accessed July 18th, 2024.

4. Brown, Kendra and Garber, Rebecca. Fiore de’i Liberi; Paris Manuscript. Wiktenauer.com. https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Fiore_de%27i_Liberi. Updated 7/2/2024. Accessed 7/8/2024.

5. Trosclair, Christian. Pseudo-Hans Döbringer; Pol Hausbuch (MS 3227a). Wiktenauer.com. https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Pol_Hausbuch_(MS_3227a). Updated 11/13/2024. Accessed 7/18/2024.

6. Tempo (chess). Wikipedia.com. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tempo_(chess)#:~:text=In%20chess%20and%20other%20chess,1. Web. Updated 12/05/2023. Accessed 07/30/2024.

7. Windsor, Guy. Philippo di Vadi. Wiktenauer.com. https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Philippo_di_Vadi#cite_note-1. Updated 01/26/2024. Accessed 07/25/2024.

8. Kleinau, Jens. GMN 3227A 64r-65r Bloßfechten (explained). Talhoffer.wordpress.com. https://talhoffer.wordpress.com/2011/05/06/gmn-3227a-64r-65r-blosfechten-explained/. Updated 5/6/2011. Accessed 7/8/2024.

9. Grendler, Paul F.. Schooling in Renaissance Italy: literacy and learning, 1300-1600. United Kingdom, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989.

10. Buringh and Van Zanden (2009) – processed by Our World in Data. “Estimated literacy rates (Buringh and Van Zanden (2009))” [dataset]. Buringh and Van Zanden (2009) [original data].

11. Stokes, Brian & Dean, Trevor. Lippo Dardi: Dardi Letter Translation. 2015. Link to Archive.

12. DeFord RI. Tactus, Mensuration and Rhythm in Renaissance Music. Cambridge University Press; 2015.

13. Hooker, Helen. A brief history of tempo. Helenhooker.co.uk. https://www.helenhooker.co.uk/blog/2023/6/20/brief-history-tempo. Updated 06/20/2023. Accessed 07/25/2024.

14. Fratus, Stephen. “With Malice and Cunning: Anonymous 16th Century Manuscript on Bolognese Swordsmanship.” Lulu Press. 18 February 2020. Print.

15. Swanger, Jherek. “The Duel, or the Flower of Arms for Single Combat, Both Offensive and Defensive, by Achille Marozzo.” Lulu Press. 22 April 2018. Print.

16. Leoni, Tom. “The Complete Renaissance Swordsman: Antonio Manciolino's Opera Nova (1531)” Freelance Academy Press. 27 May 2015. Print.

17. Swanger, Jherek. Giovanni dall’Agocchie, Dell’Arte di Scrimia, “The Art of Defense: on Fencing, the Joust, and Battle Formation”, lulu press, May 5, 2018. Digital.

18. Terminiello, Piermarco & Reich, Steven. “Marco Docciolini’s 1601 Fencing Treatise; Treatise on the Subject of Fencing.” Vulpes Press. 2017. Print.

19. Swanger, Jherek. “The Schermo of Angelo Viggiani dal Montone of Bologna.” 2002. Digital.

20. Swanger, Jherek. “How to Fight and Defend with Arms of Every Kind, by Antonio Manciolino.” Lulu Press. 4 February 2021. Print.

21. Termiello, Piermarco & Pendragon, Joshua. “The Art of Fencing; The Discourse of Camillo Palladini.” The Royal Armories. October 2019. Print.

22. Ross, W. D. Metaphysics by Aristotle; Public Domain English Translation. people.bu.edu/wwildman/WeirdWildWeb/courses/wphil/readings/wphil_rdg05_metaphysics_entire.htm. Digital. Accessed 07/26/2024.

23. Bachmann, Dieter. Liber de Arte Dimicatoria. Wiktenauer.com. https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Liber_de_Arte_Dimicatoria. Updated November 17, 2024. Accessed 07/08/2024.

24. Vansteenkiste, Jeff. First Book of Nicoletto Giganti. Wiktenauer.com. https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Nicoletto_Giganti. Updated May 30, 2024. Accessed 07/15/2024.

25. Johnson, A.F. and Chidester, Michael. Fencing, or the Science of Arms by Salvator Fabris. Wiktenauer.com. https://wiktenauer.com/wiki/Salvator_Fabris. Updated April 5, 2024. Accessed 07/15/2024.

26. NASA Earth Observatory. Planetary Motion: The History of an Idea That Launched the Scientific Revolution. earthobservatory.nasa.gov/features/OrbitsHistory#:~:text=In%201687%2C%20Isaac%20Newton%20put,in%20check%20a%20name%3A%20gravity.

27. Renaissance Humanism: An Anthology of Sources. N.p., Hackett Publishing Company, Incorporated, 2014.

28. Responding to Aristotle | Encyclopedia.com. www.encyclopedia.com/history/news-wires-white-papers-and-books/responding-aristotle#:~:text=In%201210%20Church%20officials%20in,ban%20in%201215%20and%201228.

5

Buringh and Van Zanden (2009) – processed by Our World in Data

Marozzo’s art is a rational system governed by the variables that determine the outcome of a fight, factors such as measure, angle, distance and tempo. The segno is a masterpiece of teaching that allows you to visually understand the interplay of these variables.

The objective of this piece is to use the segno, as it is described by various authors to paint a dynamic picture of how they viewed this symbol as a pedagogical tool for the instruction of fencing. Then, I will illustrate how I use the segno to teach measure, the tempos of attack, and footwork. After this I will plug a few plays from the corpus into the segno to see what we can extract, and conclude with a discussion about the tactical approach of the different Bolognese authors, and relate their lessons to the rules we derived from the segno.

Achille Marozzo:

In this small passage Marozzo gives us a great bit of information on how to use the segno. Marozzo says to use the segno especially with sharp weapons (targa, rotella, large buckler, single sword, and cape, sword and dagger, and two swords.) Here is an important clue, because Marozzo tells us what material to plug into the segno {ie. Book 2 of Marozzo’s Opera Nova.} Marozzo also explains the why of his segno when he instructs us to keep our sword hand in agreement with our steps and vice-versa. Finally, we return to the beginning of his statement, which highlights the footwork patterns, how to walk from guard to guard—forward, backward, and sideways, obliquely and in any other possible manner; this is how we are to use it.

Marozzo gives us more data points to add to our previous list of what, why and how, by adding around and around, demonstrating the circular nature of the system, and placing their feet on those lines that connect the circular markings, which gives us a perception of the limits and rules that govern fencing.

Summary of Marozzo

• What: The segno should especially be used with sharp weapons; targa, rotella, large buckler, single sword, and cape, sword and dagger, and two swords.

• Why: To ensure that the sword hand is in agreement with the body; Teach them to let their hand be in agreement with their feet and vice-versa, or else your instruction will be defective.

• How: By having them place their feet on the lines between the circular markings, stepping forward and backward, sideways, and obliquely—around and around—with weapons in hand.

Camillo Palladini:

Now we’ll venture forward in time to the Bolognese-born Camillo Palladini. Who says:

Here we get our first introduction to the use of the segno or as he describes it, the compass (compasso.)1 He advises that we “advance to within two or three steps of him, remaining sufficiently covered against any attack he might attempt.” This our indication of how Palladini wishes us to use it. He then adds “you can then exercise your judgement to determine the spot where you may attack.” This is why Palladini wishes us to use it.

Without jumping too far ahead, take a moment to consider that when you are two or three steps away from the opponent, it will mean that the opposing fencer has their lead foot on the outside circle of the segno, that you either have your lead foot on the outside of the circle as well (three to four steps) or you have your lead foot on the periphery of the inside circle (two to three steps). This could also mean your opponent has their lead foot on the inside circle while you have your lead foot on the outside circle. This is the approach of measure, and will be our guide for how to use the segno as an expression of measure.

He continues by instructing that you should, “approach until you see that by extending your arm and stepping with your right foot you may wound him, either with the point or the cut, depending on the opportunity or situation.” Palladini calls this place the misura di ferire, or the measure of wounding; this is our how, that is we use the segno to tell us when we are in measure to strike our opponent. This is similar to Capo Ferro’s wide measure, ie. The wide measure is, when with the increase of the right foot, I can strike the adversary, and this measure is the first narrow one (Wilson). To which Palladini provides our why, since it is the means of attacking securely, which you will see through practice.

Here, we get an illustration of how the inside lines of the Segno were used, or “the lines that connect the circular markings,” as Marozzo puts it. Some masters and authors, such as Agrippa, advocate turning your back in quarta to make a thrust on the inside line with a body evasion. Palladini disparages this idea and gives us insight as to how we safely cover ourselves upon making a thrust to the inside.

For Palladini “both fencers started with their feet on the straight line in the center of the oval. As they resolutely thrust at one another as described, the victor brings his left foot onto the right-hand line, in the manner depicted —or—to defend your right side you should perform the opposite action to this, bringing your left foot onto the left-hand line, and voiding your right side.” That is, Palladini does this to evade an attack to either side as the situation demands. Here then is our why.

This is similar to what we see described in MSS Ravenna M-345/M-346 {the Anonimo Bolognese} with the authors typical exit, cover, or finish in Guardia di Intrare2 or in Giovanni dall’Agocchie’s Dell'Arte di Scrima Libri Tre, where he says, “regardless of which foot you have forward, you’ll turn your body and rear leg to the opposite of the side on which you parry or hit the enemy’s blow, because by doing so you’ll make two defenses in one tempo, one with the sword and the other with the body. Moreover, you’ll distance yourself from the said sword and draw significantly closer to his opening, and it will be easier and safer for you to strike him” (Swanger, pg. 16). We also see this illustrated throughout Marozzo and Manciolino’s respective Opera Nova’s, with each author frequently telling their readers to let their left foot follow behind the right, or vice versa.

Summary of Palladini:

• How: We start out with our approach, advance to within two or three steps of him, remaining sufficiently covered against any attack he might attempt. Once in measure, approach until you see that by extending your arm and stepping with your right foot you may wound him, either with the point or the cut, depending on the opportunity or situation. Once we have delivered our attack, we will, bring {our} left foot onto the right-hand line, in the manner depicted —or—to defend your right side {we} should perform the opposite action to this, bringing {our} left foot onto the left-hand line, and voiding {our} right side

• Why: Our initial approach is to within two or three steps so that we may, exercise {our} judgement to determine the spot where {we} may attack, the final movement into the misura di ferire is done as, it is the means of attacking securely, after which we’ll allow our back foot to trail because it allows us to, evade an attack to either side as the situation demands.

Marco Docciolini:

Taking a quick trip from Bologna across the Apennines we arrive in Florence, where Marco Docciolini teaches the segno in the following way:

Later in his text Docciolini will explain proportionality, that the average man is three braccio tall, and that their normal stride, without overextending, is one braccio in length or one-third of their height. So, basically, the segno is four passing steps in diameter. This aligns nicely with the Palladini’s discussion of measure and the conclusions drawn above (ie. three to four passing steps away, two to three passing steps away {depending on height}, etc.). For the sake of brevity, I will leave out portions of Docciolini’s text, he goes into tremendous detail, and I highly recommend you pick up a copy of Terminiello’s translation. Continuing at the end of chapter 2, Docciolini states:

A fairly clear explanation of why the diriturra is being used. The part that stands out is certainly, especially on the passage of our steps, which is the most difficult and important aspect of this endeavor. Here is an equally succinct demonstration of how it was used:

This is very similar to what we see described by Camillo Palladini. The unique thing about Docciolini is that he uses the diagram to describe all of the footwork related to his guards, counter guards, and progressions of fencing. It is a fantastic source for exploring dynamic footwork in the later Italian traditions.

Summary of Marco Docciolini:

• The segno is four paces {4 braccio} in diameter, each level is the length of one full {effortless} step, and is used to instruct on guards and counter guards, and on the passage of our steps.

• Each attack will be accompanied by a turn of the back foot on the traverso (lines connecting the segno) to cover safely as we remove ourselves from the presence of our enemy.

Joachim Meyer:

From Florence we’ll travel north of the Alps to Stasburg, and visit with the Freifecter, Joachim Meyer.

Meyer gives us a more defensive illustration. Rather than being on the attack, here we are on the defensive where our opponent cuts from our left to our right {i.e. a mandritto or right oberhau} and then attempts a thrust. We counter by making a parry against the cut, and then by following the traverso with our rear foot, in the tempo of their thrust; this allows us to set off our opponents blade while they walk into our point. The timing here is best when the traverse step accompanies the extension of our opponents sword. This is similar to what we saw described in Giovanni dall’Agocchie {above}, a decade later, and has the same mechanical properties as the cover after an offense that we see from both Palladini and Docciolini.

This part is pretty interesting, this is often discussed but rarely outlined. That is, our circular footwork will succeed in creating leverage, but if our opponent mirrors our steps, then the outcome should end up in a neutral meeting of the swords. This is a core defensive tenet; that you can, with turns of the body, create counter attacking opportunities, but if your opponent responds in kind, there termination of your counterattack will create a neutral engagement.

However, note that by using the body to create leverage and the space required to push a counterattack, and our opponents mirrored response, we have reclaimed the initiative in the engagement {seized the vor!}, forcing their tempo in response to come from the body, when our counterattack can originate from the hand {therefore being a smaller tempo}. This sequence of events also creates the carousel, around-and-around style of fencing that Marozzo alludes to in his discussion of the segno.

Summary of Joachim Meyer:

• Using the traverso {lines that connect the circles}, in the tempo of the opponents thrust {extension forward}, we will turn the back foot away from the opponents attack, creating leverage and space for a counterattack.

• If your opponent also utilizes the traverso in their attack, or defense of your counterattack, then the result of your action will end neutral.

Drawing the Segno:

The dimensions of the segno are described as being the normal pace of the average man, or one braccia, which is one third of their height, with the average height at the time being three braccie; 175cm, or 5’9”. Docciolini talks about what to do if you have fencers who are shorter or taller, he says, when this is not the case it is of little importance, as you can alter the dimensions of the figure to be proportionally larger or smaller. However, we are going to go by Docciolini’s average here to create a universal symbol that everyone can use.

The full diameter of the segno will be 233.33 cm (7’8”) and the diameter of the center circle will be 116.66 cm (3’9”). To create your own segno, tie a piece of chalk to a string, and from the knot, cut the string at 166.66 cm (3’9”) from the chalk; this is the cord length for your outside circle. For your inner circle repeat the process but cut your length of string at 58.33cm (1’10.9”); this will be your cord length for your inner circle.

To draw your segno, mark an X on the ground. Hold the cord for your inner circle on the designated center (X), and draw the your inner circle. Repeat the process with your longer cord, and you should have two perfect concentric circles. This will give you Docciolini’s diraturra.

Marozzo’s segno has one noticeable difference to Docciolini’s diagram. In Marozzo’s figure the outer circle conforms to that of Docciolni, but the inner circle is smaller. If we use the same base height of 175 cm (5’9”), we will get an inner circle with a diameter of of 77.78cm(2’6.375”).3 To create these concentric circles we draw two circles as described above, but the length for the outer circle will be 116.67cm (3’10”), while the length for the inner circle will be 38.89cm (1’ 3 1/3”). This, to me, seems more appropriate for fencing with shorter swords.

Using the Segno: Measure