SINGLE-STICK.
_Contributed by C. Phillipps-Wolley._
Single-stick is to the sabre what the foil is to the rapier, and while
foil-play is the science of using the point only, sabre-play is the
science of using a weapon, which has both point and edge, to the best
advantage. In almost every treatise upon fencing my subject has been
treated with scant ceremony. "Fencing" is assumed to mean the use of the
point only, or, perhaps it would not be too much to say, the use of the
foils; whereas fencing means simply (in English) the art of of-fending
another and de-fending yourself with _any weapons_, but perhaps
especially with all manner of swords.
In France or Spain, from which countries the use of the thrusting-sword
was introduced into England, it would be natural enough to consider
fencing as the science of using the point of the sword only, but here
the thrusting-sword is a comparatively modern importation, and is still
only a naturalized foreigner, whereas broad-sword and sabre and
single-stick play are older than, and were once as popular as, boxing.
On the other hand, the rapier was in old days a foreigner of peculiarly
shady reputation on these shores, its introducer being always alluded to
in the current literature of that day, with anathemas, as "that
desperate traitour, Rowland Yorke."
"L'Escrime" is, no doubt, the national sword-play of France, and, for
Frenchmen, fencing may mean the use of the foil, but broad-sword and
sabre-play are indigenous here, and if fencing is to mean only one kind
of sword-play or sword-exercise, it should mean single-stick.
Like the swordsmen of India, our gallant forefathers (according to
Fuller, in his "Worthies of England") accounted it unmanly to strike
below the knee or with the point. But necessity has no laws, still less
has it any sense of honour, so that before long English swordsmen
realized that the point was much more deadly than the edge, and that,
unless they were prepared to be "spitted like cats or rabbits," it was
necessary for them either to give up fighting or condescend to learn the
new fashion of fence.
As in boxing, it was found that the straight hit from the shoulder came
in quicker than the round-arm blow, so in fencing it was found that the
thrust got home sooner than the cut, and hence it came that the more
deadly style of fighting with the rapier supplanted the old broad-sword
play.
Single-stick really combines both styles of fencing. In it the player is
taught to use the point whenever he can do so most effectively; but he
is also reminded that his sword has an edge, which may on occasion do
him good service. It seems, then, to me, that single-stick is the most
thoroughly practical form of sword-play for use in those "tight places"
where men care nothing for rules, but only want to make the most out of
that weapon which the chance of the moment has put into their hands. It
may further be said that as the sabre is still supplied to our soldiers,
though rarely used for anything more dangerous than a military salute,
whereas no one except a French journalist has probably ever seen, what I
may be allowed to call, a foil for active service, the science of
single-stick has some claim to practical utility even in the nineteenth
century, the only sound objection to single-stick being that the sticks
used are so light as not to properly represent the sabre.
This is a grave objection to the game, when the game is regarded as
representing real business; but for all that, the lessons learnt with
the stick are invaluable to the swordsman. The true way to meet the
difficulty would be to supplement stick-play by a course with
broad-swords, such as are in use in different London gymnasiums, with
blunt edges and rounded points.
But gunpowder has taken the place of "cold steel," and arms of precision
at a thousand yards have ousted the "white arm" of the chivalrous ages,
so that it is really only of single-stick as a sport that men think, if
they think of it at all, to-day. As a sport it is second to none of
those which can be indulged in in the gymnasium, unless it be boxing;
and even boxing has its disadvantages. What the ordinary Englishman
wants is a game with which he may fill up the hours during which he
cannot play cricket and need not work; a game in which he may exercise
those muscles with which good mother Nature meant him to earn his
living, but which custom has condemned to rust, while the brain wears
out; a game in which he may hurt some one else, is extremely likely to
be hurt himself, and is certain to earn an appetite for dinner. If any
one tells me that my views of amusement are barbaric or brutal, that no
reasonable man ever wants to hurt any one else or to risk his own
precious carcase, I accept the charge of brutality, merely remarking
that it was the national love of hard knocks which made this little
island famous, and I for one do not want to be thought any better than
the old folk of England's fighting days.
There is just enough pain about the use of the sticks to make
self-control during the use of them a necessity; just enough danger to a
sensitive hide to make the game thoroughly English, for no game which
puts a strain upon the player's strength and agility only, and none on
his nerve, endurance, and temper, should take rank with the best of our
national pastimes.
Gallant Lindsey Gordon knew the people he was writing for when he
wrote--
"No game was ever yet worth a rap,
For a rational man to play,
Into which no accident, no mishap,
Could possibly find its way."
Still, there comes a time, alas! in the lives of all of us, when, though
the hand is still ready to smite, the over-worked brain resents the
infliction of too many "merry cross-counters," and we cannot afford to
go about with black eyes, except as an occasional indulgence. Then it is
that single-stick comes in. Boxing is the game of youth, and fencing
with foils, we have been assured, improves as men fall into the sere and
yellow leaf. Single-stick, then, may be looked upon as a gentle
exercise, suitable for early middle age.
There is just enough sting in the ash-plant's kiss, when it catches you
on the softer parts of your thigh, your funny bone, or your wrist, to
keep you wide awake, and remind you of the good old rule of "grin and
bear it;" but the ash-plant leaves no marks which are likely to offend
the eyes of squeamish clients or female relations.
Another advantage which single-stick possesses is that you may learn to
play fairly well even if you take it up as late in life as at five and
twenty; whereas I understand that, though many of my fencing friends
were introduced to the foil almost as soon as to the corrective birch,
and though their heads are now growing grey, they still consider
themselves mere tyros in their art.
That single-stick is a national game of very considerable antiquity, and
at one time in great repute on our country greens, no one is likely to
deny, nor have I time to argue with them even if I would in this little
_brochure_. Those who are interested in spadroon, back-sword, and
broad-sword will find the subjects very exhaustively treated in such
admirable works as Mr. Egerton Castle's "Schools and Masters of Fence."
These pages are merely intended for the tyro--they are, at best, a
compilation of those notes written during the last ten years in black
and white upon my epidermis by the ash-plants of Serjeants Waite and
Ottaway, and Corporal-Major Blackburn. Two of them, unfortunately, will
never handle a stick again, but the last-named is still left, and to him
especially I am indebted for anything which may be worth remembering in
these pages. A book may teach you the rudiments of any game, but it is
only face to face with a _better_ player than yourself that you will
ever make any real advance in any of the sciences of self-defence.
And here, then, is my first hint, taught by years of experience: If you
want to learn to play quickly, if you want to get the most out of your
lessons, whether in boxing or stick-play, never encourage your teacher
to spare you too much. If you get a stinging cross-counter early in your
career as a boxer, which lays you out senseless for thirty seconds, you
will find that future antagonists have the greatest possible difficulty
in getting home on that spot again. It is the same in single-stick. If
you are not spared too much, and are not too securely padded, you will,
after the ash-plant has curled once or twice round your thighs, acquire
a guard so instinctively accurate, so marvellously quick, that you will
yourself be delighted at your cheaply purchased dexterity. The old
English players used no pads and no masks, but, instead, took off their
coats, and put up their elbows to shield one side of their heads.
There are to-day in England several distinct schools of single-stick,
the English navy having, I believe, a school of its own; but all these
different schools are separated from one another merely by sets of
rules, directing, for the most part, where you may and where you may not
hit your adversary.
The best school appears to be that in which all hits are allowed, which
might be given by a rough in a street row, or a Soudanese running
a-muck. The old trial for teachers of fencing was not a bad test of real
excellence in the mastery of their weapon--a fight with three skilled
masters of fence (one at a time, of course), then three bouts with
valiant unskilled men, and then three bouts against three half-drunken
men. A man who could pass this test was a man whose sword could be
relied upon to keep his head, and this is what is wanted. All rules,
then, which provide artificial protection, as it were--protection other
than that afforded by the swordsman's guard--to any part of the body
are wrong, and to be avoided.
Let me illustrate my position. I remember well, at Waite's rooms, in
Brewer Street, seeing a big Belgian engaged with a gentleman who at that
time occupied the honourable position of chopping-block to the rooms.
The Belgian had come over to take part in some competition, and was an
incomparably better player than the Englishman, but then the Belgian
wished to play according to the rules of his own school. It was arranged
at last that each should do his worst in his own way, and it was hoped
that Providence would take care of the better man.
Unfortunately the worse man of the two had been very much in the habit
of taking care of himself when subjected to the attacks of such
punishing players as Ottaway and Mr. Jack Angle.
The Belgian's legs had been protected by a rule of fence, which made it
illegal to hit below the waist, or some such point, and now naturally
they fell an easy prey to the Englishman's ash-plant. The result was, of
course, that in a very short time that Belgian's thigh was so wealed
that at every feint in that direction he was ready to be drawn, and to
uncover head or arm or any well-padded spot, not already sore, to the
other man's attack.
Let me touch lightly on one or two little points before plunging _in
medias res_. In spite of what I have said about hard hitting, please
remember that I have recommended my pupil only to suffer it gladly for
his own sake. It will improve his temper and his play. On the other
hand, hard, indiscriminate hitting is to be discountenanced for many
reasons, and principally because, as a rule, a hard hit means a slow
one. Always remember that all the time taken to draw your hand back for
a blow is time given to the enemy to get his point in, and that a blow
delivered from wrist and arm (bent only as much as it should be when you
"engage") would suffice to disable your adversary if the sticks were
what they pretend to be, "sharp swords." Again, in ordinary loose play,
remember you are playing, or are supposed to be playing, with the
weapons of gentlemen, and should show the fine old-fashioned courtesy to
one another which is due to a foeman worthy of your steel. If there is a
question as to a hit, acknowledge it as against yourself, as in the cut
below, by springing up to attention and bringing the hilt up to the
level of the mouth, blade upright, and knuckles turned to your front.
[Illustration: Fig. 24.--Acknowledging.]
Again, if you should get an awkward cut, do all you can not to return
savagely. If you make any difference at all, play more lightly for the
next five minutes, otherwise you may drift into a clumsy slogging match,
ending in bad blood. Finally, if you do get hold of a vicious opponent,
do not, whatever you do, show that you mind his blows. If he sees that a
cut at a particular place makes you flinch, he will keep on feinting at
it until he hits you wherever he pleases; but if, on the contrary, you
take no notice of punishment, you are apt to dishearten the adversary,
who feels that your blows hurt him, and is uncertain whether his tell
upon you in like manner. I may as well say here that throughout this
paper, I have, as far as possible, used English words to explain my
meaning, abstaining from the French terms of the fencing school, as
being likely to confuse a beginner, who may not want to learn French as
an introduction to fencing.
OUTFIT.
The accessories necessary for single-stick are much more numerous now
than in the old days on the village green. Then two stout ash-plants,
and the old North-country prayer (beautifully terse), "God, spare our
eyes!" were considered all that was necessary. Now a complete equipment
costs rather more than a five-pound note.
First, then, there is the helmet, constructed more solidly than that
used for foil play, although the wire mesh of which it is made is
generally a good deal wider than the mesh of the fencing mask. The best
helmet is made of stout wire, with a top of buffalo hide, completely
covering the head, and with padded ear-pieces to take off the effect of
a slashing cut. These are better than those made of cane, which are apt
to give way before a stout thrust and let in the enemy's point to the
detriment of eyes and complexion. Be careful, in choosing your helmet,
to see that it fits you exactly, as a nodding helm may, in a close
thing, so interfere with your sight as to give your adversary a very
considerable advantage. The jacket generally used for this play is made
like a pea-jacket, with two sleeves, and should be of stout leather. If
this is loose fitting, it will afford ample protection, and is not so
hot as the padded coat sometimes seen. Besides being too hot, the
handsome white kid padded jackets soon get holes made in them by the
ash-plant, whereas the brown leather is seldom torn.
In addition to the jacket, an apron of leather, extending from the waist
almost to the knee, should be worn, covering both thighs, and saving
the wearer from dangerously low hits.
Some men wear a cricket pad on the right leg. This, I think, makes a man
slow on his feet, and is besides unnecessary. The calf of any one in
condition should be able to despise ash-plants; and, as I said before, a
bare leg makes you wonderfully quick with your low guards.
Stick play is a fine test of a man's condition. At first every hit
leaves an ugly mark, but as soon as the player gets really "fit," it
takes a very heavy blow indeed to bruise him. The sticks themselves
should be ash-plants, about forty inches in length and as thick as a
man's thumb, without knots and unpeeled.
If you want them to last any time it is as well to keep a trough of
water in the gymnasium, and leave your ash-plants to soak in it until
they are wanted. If you omit to do this, two eager players, in half an
hour's loose play, will destroy half a dozen sticks, which adds
considerably to the cost of the amusement.
The old English sword hilt was a mere cross-piece; but in play it has
always been customary to protect the fingers with a basket. This may be
either of wicker or of buffalo hide. The latter is infinitely the best,
as wearing much longer, affording a better protection to the fingers,
and not scraping the skin off the knuckles as the wicker-baskets too
often do. The basket has a hole on either side; one close to the rim,
and the other about a couple of inches from the edge. In putting your
basket on, put your stick through the former first, as otherwise you
will not be able to get a grip of your stick or any room for the play of
your wrist.
There is only one other thing necessary, and then you may consider
yourself safe as a schoolboy with the seat of his trousers full of the
dormitory towels: and that is either a stout elastic ring round your
wrist--a ring as thick as your thumb--or a good long gauntlet. I rather
recommend the ring as interfering less with the freedom of your hand,
and as protecting more effectually that weak spot in your wrist where
the big veins are. If a blow catches you squarely across this spot, when
it is unprotected, you may expect your right hand to lose its cunning
for a good many minutes. By the way, it is as well to see that the
collar of your jacket is sufficiently high and well supplied with
buttons, otherwise there is apt to be a dangerous gap between the
shoulder and the bottom of the helmet.
One last word: if you see that the point of your stick is broken, don't
go on playing; stop at once. A split ash-plant is as dangerous as a
buttonless foil, and just as likely as not to go through the meshes of a
mask, and blind where you only meant to score. As the chief fault of
single-stick as a training for the use of the sabre is that the stick
does not properly represent the weight of the weapon which it simulates,
it is not a bad thing to accustom yourself to using the heaviest sticks
in the gymnasium. This will strengthen your wrist, and when in a
competition you get hold of a light ash-plant, you will be all the
quicker for your practice with a heavier stick.
A cut on p. 57 by Mr. Graham Simpson represents the way to acknowledge a
hit, and a cut by the same artist on p. 61 illustrates, as far as we
know it, the less careful method of our forefathers. The use of the
elbow to shield the head, though common in the contests on the village
greens, was in its way no doubt more foolish than our pads; for though a
sturdy yokel might take a severe blow from a cudgel on his bare arm,
without wincing, the toughest arm in England would have had no chance
against a sabre.
[Illustration: Fig. 25.--Old style.]
POSITION.
Having now secured the necessary implements, let us begin to learn how
to use them. First, as to the stick, which, you will remember,
represents for the present a sabre, and consequently a weapon of which
one edge only is sharpened. In order that every blow dealt with the
stick should be dealt with what represents the sharp or "true" edge of
the sword, it is only necessary to see that you get a proper grip of
your weapon in the first instance. To do this shut your fingers round
the hilt, and straighten your thumb along the back of the hilt, thus
bringing your middle knuckles (or second joints of your fingers) and the
true edge into the same line. If you keep this grip you may rest
assured that every blow you deal will be with the edge.
And now as to position--the first position from which every attack,
feint, or guard, begins. Ned Donelly, the great boxer, used to tell his
pupils that if a man knew how to use his feet, his hands would take care
of themselves. And what is undoubtedly true in boxing is equally true in
fencing. "Look that your foundations are sure" should be every fighting
man's motto. Take trouble, then, about the position of the feet from the
first. To come on to the engaging guard, as shown in Fig. 26, stand
upright, your heels together, your feet at right angles to one another,
your right foot pointing to your front, your left foot to your left,
your stick in your right hand, loosely grasped and sloped over your
right shoulder, your right elbow against your side, and your right hand
about on a level with it, your left hand behind your back, out of harm's
way.
[Illustration: Fig. 26.--Engaging guard.]
It is not a bad plan to put the fingers of the left hand through the
belt at the back of the waist. If this is done, it counteracts, to a
certain extent, that tendency to bring the left hand in front, which a
good many beginners display, and for which they get punished by many an
unpleasant rap on the knuckles.
Now take a short pace to the front with the right foot, and, in the
words of the instructor, "sit down," _i.e._ bend both legs at the knee,
so that the calves are almost at right angles to the thighs. This
position will be found a severe strain upon the muscles at first, but
they will soon get used to it. The object of the position is twofold.
First, the muscles are thus coiled, as it were, ready for a spring at
the shortest notice; and in the second place, the surface which your
stick has to guard is thus considerably reduced. Be careful to keep the
right heel in a line with the left heel, a space equal to about twice
the length of your own foot intervening between them, and see that your
right toe points squarely to the front and your left toe to your left.
If your right toe is turned in, you will never advance straight to your
front; and if your left toe is turned in, you contract the base upon
which your body rests, and very soon will begin to roll and lose your
balance altogether. As far as the legs and feet are concerned you are
now in your proper position, which you will only leave when you lunge,
or when you straighten yourself to acknowledge a hit, and to which you
will invariably return as soon as you engage.
If you wish to advance, advance the right foot a short pace, bringing
the left after it at once, so that the two resume their relative
positions to one another, half a pace nearer your enemy. If you wish to
retire, reverse this movement, retiring with the left foot and following
it with the right. In both cases keep your eyes to the front, your feet
at right angles, and your knees bent.
Now as to the stick. There are two forms of guard in common use amongst
players, the hanging and the upright guard, of both of which
illustrations will be found in these pages. In Rowland Yorke's time men
sought for what I think they called "the universal parry" almost as
anxiously as they did for the alchemist's stone which should turn all
things to gold. Of course such a thing has never been found, but either
of these guards, if truly taken and _kept_, will stop the attacks of
most men as long as you keep them at their proper distance.
In passing, let me say that if a man _will_ try to overwhelm you with
rushes, the best thing you can do is to straighten your stick, thrust,
and _don't let the stick run through the basket_. This has a wonderfully
soothing effect upon an excitable player.
In Fig. 27 the upright guard (or high tierce) is shown, in which the
right elbow should be close in to the side, the forearm at right angles
to the body, wrist bent, so as to turn the knuckles outwards, and the
stick pointed upwards, at an angle of about 45 deg. In Fig. 26, the
hanging guard, the point of the stick should be inclined slightly
downwards, the knuckles turned upwards, the forearm should be kept
slightly bent, the hilt a little outside the right knee, the point of
the stick a little low and in the direction of the left front.
If the point of the stick be kept up, the adversary finds a way in by
cutting upwards under the point; if the hilt is not outside the right
knee, the back of the sword arm will be unprotected; and if the sword
arm itself is not kept slightly bent, no effective blow can be
delivered by it without first drawing back the hand.
[Illustration: Fig. 27.--Upright guard, or high tierce.]
This, of course, is a fatal fault. The moment your adversary sees your
hand go back, he will come out. As you retire for the spring, he will
spring. _Time_ is the very essence of single-stick, and the chief object
of the player should be to make his attack in the fewest possible
motions. For this reason a slightly bent arm is necessary when on guard.
Of course if the arm is unduly bent the elbow will be exposed, but a
little practice will soon enable any moderately supple man to so hold
his arm as to be ready to cut direct from his guard and yet keep his
elbow out of peril. And this brings me to a question often discussed
amongst players, viz. which is the better guard, the upright or the
hanging guard, for general purposes. Although I have been taught to use
the hanging guard myself ever since I began to play, I unhesitatingly
say that the upright guard is the better one, as enabling a player to
save time in the attack. In the hanging guard the knuckles (_i.e._ the
edge) are up and away from the enemy; the wrist must be turned before
the edge can be brought into contact with his body, and this takes time,
however little. In the upright guard the knuckles (_i.e._ the edge) are
towards your opponent, the arm is ready flexed, everything is in
readiness for the blow. If, then, as I believe, the advantages of the
two guards, as guards, are equal, the advantage of the upright guard as
a position to attack from seems to me undeniable.
In all guards remember that it is not sufficient to oppose some part of
your weapon to your adversary's. You must meet him, if possible, with
what the old masters called the "forte" of your blade, that is, the part
from the hilt to the middle of the sword, with which you have naturally
more power of resistance than with the lower half of the blade. Of
course all guards must be made with the edge of the sword outwards, and
make sure that you really _feel_ your enemy's blade (_i.e._ make a good
clean guard) before attempting to return his attack.
There is another matter to which many teachers pay too little attention,
but which is as important as any point in the fencer's art. It is
obvious that the player should try, if possible, to hit without being
hit. To do this effectively it is necessary in attacking to maintain
what fencers call a good "opposition," that is to say, to so carry your
stick in cutting or thrusting at him as to protect yourself in the line
in which you are attacking.
This is easier to explain in practice than on paper, but it may perhaps
be sufficiently explained by examples. If, for instance, you are cutting
at the left side of your opponent's head, you must, to stop a possible
counter from him, keep your hilt almost as high as the top of your own
head and carry your hand well across to your own left. If you do this
correctly, you will, in case he should cut at your left cheek as you cut
at his, stop his cut with the upper part of your stick.
Again, in thrusting at him, if you keep your hand as high as your
shoulder, and in a line with your right shoulder, you will protect the
upper half of your own body from a counter, so that, even if your thrust
fails and does not get home, the upper part of your blade will stop his
cut.
It is necessary to study so to attack your opponent that, in the very
act of delivering a cut or thrust, you may stop him in as many lines or
directions of attack as possible.
If you find your man will counter in spite of all that you can do, take
advantage of this habit of his by feinting a cut to draw his counter,
stop this, and return.
This will have the effect of making him do the leading, which will be
all in your favour.
HITS, GUARDS, FEINTS, ETC.
For the purposes of instruction and description, the principal hits in
single-stick have been numbered and described according to the parts of
the body at which they are aimed.
There are four principal hits: (1) a cut at your opponent's left cheek;
(2) a cut at his right cheek; (3) a cut at his left ribs; (4) a cut at
his right ribs. 5 and 6 are mere repetitions of 3 and 4 on a lower
level, guarded in the same way, and aimed at the inside and outside of
the right leg instead of at the ribs.
In the accompanying cuts numbered 28, 29, 30, 31, the four principal
attacks and the stops for them have been illustrated, and with their
help and a long looking-glass in front of him the young player ought to
be able to put himself into fairly good position.
[Illustration: Fig. 28.--Cut 1 and guard.]
[Illustration: Fig. 29.--Cut 2 and guard.]
In addition to the cuts there is the point, which, as our forefathers
discovered, is far more deadly than the edge. Of this more later on.
Almost every cut is executed upon the lunge. As you and your adversary
engage, you are practically out of each other's range unless you lunge.
Standing in the first position the heels are two feet apart. On the
lunge, I have seen Corporal-Major Blackburn, a man, it is true, over six
feet in height, measure, from his left heel to a point on the floor,
level with his sword point, nearly ten feet. This gives some idea of
what is to be expected from a man who can lunge properly. To do this,
throw out the right foot as far as it will go to the front, keeping the
heels still in line and the right foot straight.
Keep the outside edge of the left foot firmly down upon the floor, and
keep it still at right angles to the right foot. If your left foot
begins to leave the ground you have over-reached yourself; you will find
it impossible to get back, and you will be at your opponent's mercy. See
that your right knee is exactly over your right ankle, your left leg
straight, your chest square to the front, and your head well up. If you
can get yourself into this position, you will have no difficulty in
recovering yourself if your lunge fails, and you will gain nothing by
bending your body forward from the waist. On the contrary, you will
spoil your balance.
This lunge will do for every cut and every point.
To recover after a lunge, throw your weight well back upon your left
leg, and use the muscles of the right thigh and calf to shoot yourself
back into position. If the knee of the right leg has been kept exactly
over the ankle, the impetus necessary to regain your original position
will be easily obtained. If, however, the right foot has been protruded
too far, and the caution as to the knee and ankle disregarded, you will
find yourself unable to return quickly from the lunging position, and
will consequently be at your opponent's mercy. It is in the operation of
returning from the lunge that the player realizes to the full the
advantage of keeping the shoulders well back and head erect.
[Illustration: Fig. 30.--Cut 3 and guard.]
The illustrations should speak for themselves, but perhaps I had better
explain them.
In cut 1 (Fig. 28), lunge out and cut at the left cheek of your
opponent, straightening the arm and turning the knuckles down.
To stop this cut, raise the engaging guard (hanging guard, Fig. 26)
slightly, and bring the hand somewhat nearer the head, as shown in the
illustration, or stop it with the upright guard, with the elbow kept
well in and the right hand about on a level with the left shoulder.
In cut 2 (Fig. 29), lunge out and cut at your opponent's right cheek,
with your arm straight and knuckles up. The natural guard for this is
the high upright guard, with the elbow well in to the right side, the
arm bent and turned slightly outwards, and wrist and knuckles turned
well to the right.
In cut 3 (Fig. 30), make free use of the wrist, bringing your blade
round in the smallest space possible, and come in on your man's ribs
with your arm straight and knuckles turned downwards.
To stop this cut you may either use a low hanging guard, brought across
to the left side, the right hand about on a level with the left
shoulder, or a low upright guard, with the hilt just outside the left
thigh.
The hanging guard is the safer one of the two, as it is difficult in
practice to get low enough with the hilt in the upright guard to stop a
low cut of this kind.
In cut 4 (Fig. 31), cut at your adversary's right ribs, and keep your
knuckles up, and when he attacks you on this line, stop him with the
hanging guard held low on your right side, or with the upright guard,
with arm, wrist, and knuckles turned outwards.
[Illustration: Fig. 31.--Cut 4 and guard.]
Cuts 5 and 6 are made like cuts 3 and 4 respectively, and must be met in
all cases by a low hanging guard. It is well to practise these low
hanging guards continually, as a man's legs are perhaps the most exposed
part of his body.
The point when used is given by a simple straightening of the arm on the
lunge, the knuckles being kept upwards, and, in ordinary play, the grip
on the stick loosened, in order that it may run freely through the hilt,
and thus save your opponent from an ugly bruise, a torn jacket, or
possibly a broken rib. When the knuckles are kept up in giving point,
the sword hand should be opposite the right shoulder. But the point may
also be delivered with the knuckles down, in which case the hand should
be opposite to the left shoulder.
[Illustration: Fig. 32.--The point.]
The point may be parried with any of the guards previously described.
It is well to remember that one of the most effective returns which can
be made from any guard is a point, and that a point can be made
certainly from every hanging guard by merely straightening the arm from
the guard, lunging, and coming in under your opponent's weapon. But
perhaps this is a thing to be learnt rather from practical play than
from a book.
Now, it is obvious that if any of the foregoing guards are as good as
they have been described, it is necessary to induce your adversary to
abandon them if you are ever to score a point.
This may be done in a variety of ways, when you have assured yourself
that he is invulnerable to a direct attack, not to be flurried by a
fierce onslaught, or slow enough to let you score a "remise"--that is, a
second hit--the first having been parried, but not returned.
The first ruse to adopt, of course, is the feint--a feint being a false
attack, or rather a move as if to attack in a line which you threaten,
but in which you do not intend to attack. All feints should be _strongly
pronounced_ or clearly shown. A half-hearted feint is worse than
useless; it is dangerous. If you have a foeman worthy of your steel
facing you, he will detect the fraud at once, and use the time wasted by
you over a feeble feint to put in a time thrust.
The ordinary feint is made by an extension of the arm as if to cut
without moving the foot to lunge, the lunge being made the moment you
have drawn off your enemy's guard and laid bare the real object of your
attack.
Sometimes, however, if you cannot succeed otherwise, a half or short
lunge for your feint, to be turned into a full lunge as you see your
opening, may be found a very useful variation of the ordinary feint. If
you find feints useless, you may try to compass your adversary's
downfall by "a draw." All the time that you are playing you should try
to be using your head, to be thinking out your plans and trying to
discover his. In nine cases out of ten he has some favourite form of
attack. If you discover what it is, and know how to stop it, indulge
him, and invite him even to make it, having previously formed some
little scheme of attack of your own upon this opening. Let me illustrate
my meaning by examples. If you notice a hungry eye fixed yearningly on
your tender calf, let your calf stray ever so little from under the
protection of the hanging guard. If this bait takes your friend in, and
he comes with a reckless lunge at it, throwing all his heart into the
cut, spring up to your full height, heels together, and leg well out of
danger, and gently let your avenging rod fall along his spine. This, by
the way, is the only occasion, except when you are acknowledging a hit,
on which you may be allowed to desert the first position for legs and
feet.
But this is a very old ruse, and most players know it: a much better one
may be founded upon it. If, for instance, you think you detect any
coquettish symptoms in the right leg of your adversary, you may know at
once what he is meditating. Oblige him at once. Lunge freely out at his
leg, which will of course be at once withdrawn. This, however, you were
expecting, and as his leg goes back your hand goes up to the high
hanging guard, covering your head from his cut. This cut stopped, he is
at your mercy, and you may cut him in halves or crimp his thigh at your
leisure. This position is illustrated in Fig. 33.
[Illustration: Fig. 33.--A ruse.]
Once again: some men set their whole hearts on your sleeve, and you may,
if yours is the hanging guard, lure them to their destruction through
this lust of theirs. Gradually, as the play goes on, your arm tires,
your hand sinks, your arm at last is bare, and the enemy comes in with a
cut which would almost lay open the gauntlet, were it not that at that
moment you come to the low upright guard and return at his left cheek.
These are what are known as draws, and their number is unlimited.
Another thing sometimes heard of in single-stick play is "a gain." This
is a ruse for deceiving your opponent as to distance, and is achieved by
bringing the left heel up to the right, in the course of the play,
without abandoning the normal crouching position. This, of course, makes
your lunge two feet longer than your victim has any reason for believing
it to be.
A false beat is another very common form of attack, consisting of a cut
aimed at the hilt or at the forte of your stick, the object being to
make you raise your point, if possible, so that the attacker may come in
under with cut three.
This is very well met by a thrust, the arm being merely straightened
from the guard, and the lunge delivered directly the "beat" is made.
A pretty feint having the same effect as the "beat," as opening up cut
three, is a long feint with the point at the chest, cut three being
given as the sword rises to parry the point.
But probably I have already transgressed the limits of my paper. What
remains to be taught, and I know full well that it is everything except
the merest rudiments, must be learned stick in hand. I can only wish the
beginner luck, and envy him every hour which he is able to devote to
acquiring a knowledge of sword-play.
THE SALUTE.
Although the salute is a mere piece of sword drill, of no use for
practical purposes, it is still worth learning, as being the preliminary
flourish common at all assaults-at-arms, and valuable in itself as
reminding the players that they are engaged in a knightly game, and one
which insists on the display of the greatest courtesy by one opponent to
the other. Even if you are playing with bare steel, it is expected of
you that you should kill your enemy like a knight, and not like a
butcher; much more then, when you are only playing a friendly bout with
him, should you show him all possible politeness. On entering the ring
you should have all your harness on except your mask; this you should
carry in your left hand until you are face to face with your antagonist.
When in the ring, lay your helmet down on your left hand and come to the
slope swords--your blade upon your right shoulder, your elbow against
your side and your hilt in a line with your elbow, your knuckles
outwards. Your body should be erect, your head up, your heels together,
your right foot pointing straight to your front, your left foot at right
angles to it pointing to the left.
Both men acting together now come to the engaging guard, and beat twice,
stick against stick; they then come back to the "recover" by bringing
the right foot back to the left, and bringing the stick into an upright
position in front of the face, basket outwards, and thumb on a level
with the mouth.
After a slight pause, salute to the left in quarte, _i.e._ extend the
stick to your left front across the body, keeping the elbow fairly close
to the side and the finger-nails upwards; then pause again for a second,
and salute to the right in tierce (the back of the hand up); pause
again, and salute to the front, by extending the arm in that direction,
the point of the stick towards your left front. Now step forward about
two feet with the right foot and come to the engaging guard, beat twice,
draw the left foot up to the right, draw yourself up to your full
height, and come again to the recover, drop your stick to the second
guard (_i.e._ low hanging guard for the outside of the leg), making a
slight inclination of the body at the same time (probably this is meant
for a bow ceremonious), and then you may consider yourself at liberty to
put on your mask and begin.
Don't forget, when you cross sticks, to step out of distance again at
once. This salute, of course, is only usual at assaults-at-arms, which
are modern tournaments arranged for the display of the men's skill and
the entertainment of their friends. At the assault-at-arms, as we
understand it generally, there is no element of competition, there are
no prizes to be played for, and therefore, so long as a good display is
made, every one is satisfied, and nobody cares who gets the most points
in any particular bout.
In competitions this is not so, and time is an object; so that as soon
as the men can be got into the ring they are told to put their masks on
and begin.
In assaults and in general play you cannot be too careful to acknowledge
your adversary's hits. In a competition do nothing of the kind. The
judges will see that every point made is scored, and you may safely
relieve your mind from any anxiety on that ground. But in general play
it is different, and you cannot be too careful in scoring your
adversary's points, or be too liberal in allowing them, even if some of
them are a little bit questionable.
ACKNOWLEDGING.
The ordinary form of acknowledgment (and a very graceful one it is) is
accomplished as follows:--On being hit, spring to attention, with your
heels together and body erect, at the same time bringing your sword to
the recover, _i.e._ sword upright in front of your face, thumb in a line
with your mouth, and knuckles outwards.
The acknowledgment should be only a matter of seconds, and when made the
player should come back to the engaging guard and continue the bout.
FOUL HITS.
Of course there are occasions on which the best player cannot help
dealing a foul hit. When this happens there is nothing to be done except
to apologize; but most of these hits may be avoided by a little care and
command of temper. By a foul hit is meant a blow dealt to your opponent
on receiving a blow from him--a hit given, not as an attempt to "time,"
but instead of a guard and, as a matter of fact, given very often on the
"blow for blow" principle.
This, of course, is great nonsense, if you assume, as you should do,
that the weapons are sharp, when such exchanges would be a little more
severe than even the veriest glutton for punishment would care for.
If you only want to see who can stand most hammering with an ash-plant,
then your pads are a mistake and a waste of time. Ten minutes without
them will do more to settle that question than an hour with them on.
There ought to be some way of penalizing the player who, after receiving
a palpable hit himself, fails to acknowledge it, and seizes the
opportunity instead to strike the hardest blow he is able to at the
unprotected shoulder or arm of his adversary.
One more word and we have done with the courtesies of sword-play.
Don't make any remarks either in a competition (this, of course, is
worst of all) or in an ordinary bout. Don't argue, except with the
sticks. Remember that the beau-ideal swordsman is one who fights hard,
with "silent lips and striking hand."
COMPETITIONS.
Once a man has mastered the rudiments of any game and acquired some
considerable amount of dexterity in "loose play," he begins to long to
be pitted against some one else in order to measure his strength. Before
long the limits of his own gymnasium grow too small for his ambition,
and then it is that we may expect to find him looking round for a chance
of earning substantial laurels in public competitions. Unfortunately the
stick-player will not find many opportunities of displaying his skill in
public. As far as the present writer knows, there are only two prizes
offered annually in London for single-stick, and neither of these
attract much attention. One of them is given at the Military Tournament
at Islington, in June, and one at the German Gymnasium, in December. The
former of these prizes is open only to soldiers, militia-men, or
volunteers, the latter to any member of a respectable athletic club, who
is prepared to pay 2_s._ 6_d._ for his entrance fee. The attendance of
spectators at both shows is very poor, which is to be regretted, as the
interest of the public in any game generally goes a long way towards
insuring improvement in the play.
It is just as well, before entering for either of these competitions,
to know something about the conditions under which they take place, and
the rules which govern them. The bouts are generally played in a
fourteen foot ring, at least that is the statement in the notice to
players, and it is as well to be prepared to confine your movements to
such a limited area. As a matter of fact, no objection ever seems to be
raised to a competitor who transgresses this rule, and we remember to
have seen a nimble player skipping about like an electrified eel outside
the magic circle, until stopped by a barrier of chairs at the edge of
the big arena.
At the Military Tournament the play is for the best out of three hits,
_i.e._ the man who scores the first two points wins. At the German
Gymnasium the competitor who first scores five wins the bout. This is
better than at the Tournament, although it will seem to some that even
this is hardly a sufficient test of the merits of each player. The bouts
seem too short, but probably this is unavoidable; that which is to be
regretted and might be remedied, being that no points are given for
"form:" the result is that, in many cases, the anxiety to score the
necessary points as soon as possible results in very ugly and
unscientific rushes, in which no guards are attempted and from which the
most reckless and rapid hitter comes out the winner. This, of course, is
the same for every one, and therefore perfectly fair, but it does not
tend to elevate the style of play.
But the great difficulty at these competitions appears to be the
difficulty of judging. And here let me say at once that it is as far
from my intention to find fault with any individual judge as it possibly
can be. Being English, I believe them to be above suspicion; being
sometimes a competitor myself, it would not be for me to impugn their
honesty if they were not. Whatever he does, I would always advise the
athlete to preserve his faith in judges and a stoical silence when he
does not quite agree with them.
All I would suggest for the benefit of judges and judged alike in these
trials of skill which test the eyesight and quickness of the umpires
almost as much as the eyesight and quickness of the competitors, is that
some definite code of scoring should be established and recognized
amongst the different schools-of-arms in England.
In order to facilitate the scoring they have a very good plan at the
Military Tournament of chalking the competitors' sticks. This precaution
ensures a mark upon the jacket every time the ash-plant hits it; but
even this is not always sufficient, for it is quite possible for a true
guard to be opposed to a hard cut with a pliant stick, with the result
that the attacker's stick whips over and leaves a mark which ought not
to be scored, for had the weapons been of steel this could not have
happened.
This, however, is a point which would generally be detected by one of
the three judges in the ring.
What gives rise to question in players' minds is not any small point
like this, so much as the question of timing and countering.
To take the last first: If A and B lunge together, both making direct
attacks, and both get home simultaneously, it is generally admitted that
the result is a counter, and nothing is to be scored to any one.
But if A makes a direct attack, and B, ignoring it, stands fast and
counters, this is a wilful omission to protect himself on his part; and
even if his cut should get home as soon as A's it should not count, nor,
I think, should it be allowed to cancel A's point, for A led, as the
movement of his foot in lunging showed, and B's plain duty was to stop
A's attack before returning it. This he would have done naturally
enough if he had had the fear of a sharp edge before his eyes.
I even doubt whether a time-thrust or cut should ever be allowed to
score, unless the result of it be such as would have rendered the direct
attack ineffectual in real fighting. Should not the rule be, either that
the point scores to the person making the direct attack, as shown by the
action of his foot in lunging (unless, indeed, the attacked person has
guarded and returned, when, of course, the point is his), or else make
the rule a harder one, but equally fair for every one, and say no hits
shall count except those made clean without a counter, _i.e._ to score a
point the player must hit his adversary without being hit himself?
Of course bouts would take longer to finish if this were the rule, but
such a rule would greatly simplify matters.
The really expert swordsman is surely he who inflicts injuries without
receiving any, not he who is content to get rather the best of an
exchange of cuts, the least of which would with sharp steel put any man
_hors de combat_.
In connection with public competitions, I may as well warn the tyro
against what is called "a surprise." On entering the ring the men face
each other, come on the engaging guard, and begin at the judge's word of
command. The sticks must have been fairly crossed before hits may be
counted. But it is as well the moment your stick has crossed your
opponent's to step out of distance again, by taking a short pace to the
rear with the left foot and bringing the right foot, after it. You can
always come in again at short notice; but if you do not keep a sharp
look out, a very alert opponent may cross swords with you and tap you on
the arm almost in the same movement. If he does you may think it rather
sharp practice, but you will find that it scores one to him
nevertheless. As no word of practical advice founded on experience
should be valueless, let me add one here to would-be competitors. Do not
rely upon other people for masks, aprons, or other necessaries of the
game. You cannot expect a gymnasium to which you do not belong to
furnish such things for you, and even if they were provided they
probably would not fit you. Bring all you want for yourself; and if you
value your own comfort or personal appearance when you leave the scene
of the competition, let your bag, on arriving, contain towels, brushes,
and such other simple toilet necessaries as you are likely to require.