If French is, as we have been told, the natural language of the art of
fencing, it seems a particularly rash venture to translate a French
book on the subject into English. This is especially the case when the
original is such a work as _Les Secrets de l'Épée_, which so far from
being a dry technical manual, that might be sufficiently rendered by
a baldly literal version, is one of those fascinating, chatty books,
written in a happy vein, in which the manner of writing is the matter
of principal importance. But the delightful ease and artful simplicity
of style that captivate the reader are the translator's despair. I
have made the attempt for my own amusement, and I am publishing my
translation because the original work, which was first published in
1862 and reprinted in 1875, has been for some years inaccessible, and
because I think it is a book that will interest English fencers.
An interesting and appreciative account of the book is given in the
introduction to the volume devoted to fencing in the Badminton Library,
together with some criticism of the author. The would-be fencer is
cautioned that the Baron de Bazancourt is 'a very expert literary
dodger' whose specious arguments must be studied with the greatest
caution. The warning note is no doubt wise in a book intended for the
English fencer, for English fencing certainly shows no tendency to
be excessively correct, but is rather inclined to err in the other
direction. But no fencer who reads the work attentively can fail to
derive from it a real profit, and, I hope, a real pleasure. The keynote
of the book is that a fencer must fence with his 'head.' Bazancourt
generally calls it 'instinct,' or 'inspiration.' But call it what
you will, there can be no doubt that the continual tax that fencing
makes on the resourcefulness of the player gives it its subtle and
enduring charm. The unforeseen emergencies that have to be faced,
and the varieties of play that are encountered in meeting different
opponents, make fencing of all sports the least mechanical and the
least monotonous.
We are often told that fencing will never be popular in England,
because it is no longer required for practical purposes. But does
anyone suppose that we are guided by practical considerations in
choosing our sports? Fencing is a most exhilarating exercise and one
that is particularly suitable for those of us who live a town life. A
dull day in London may be very sensibly enlivened by a brisk assault.
The luxury of getting into flannels is increased by the reflection that
for an hour at any rate one will think of nothing but the foils. For no
exercise is so absorbing as fencing. Whether you are taking a lesson or
are engaged in a friendly combat your whole attention cannot fail to
be occupied. There is room for nothing else, and on that account alone
fencing must be commended as a mental relaxation of the highest value.
Compared with boxing, fencing has the advantage that it can be
continued even into old age. Now, however willing one may be to
be punched and pommelled, there usually comes a time when it is
inconvenient to appear in public with a black eye or a bruised cheek.
Few men who take to fencing and master the preliminary stages can make
up their minds to give it up, until they are obliged to do so for want
of time or opportunity.
The cosmopolitan character of fencing is another point in its favour.
Not only throughout France and Italy, but wherever French or Italian
is spoken, fencing rooms abound, and the stranger who visits them is
sure to be received with friendly interest and hospitality. Fencers are
always glad to try conclusions with a new blade, and a very moderate
knowledge of the art may often serve as a pleasant and informal
introduction in a strange country.
The art of translation is perhaps as slippery and elusive as the
art of fence. _L'escrime vit de loyales perfidies_ says the Baron
de Bazancourt. He might have said the same thing of translation. I
have endeavoured to give a faithful rendering of this book. It has
equally been my object to make my version readable. I am conscious of
many defects, and cannot hope to have avoided mistakes, but if I have
sometimes been perfidious, I trust that I have never been disloyal.
I have to thank many friends for assistance and advice, and I am
especially indebted to Mr F. H. Townsend for the spirited series of
fencing drawings that accompany the text.