"But," objected one of my hearers, "what if your adversary adopts the
same tactics, and refuses the engagement?"
"That is where science and strength, skill and personal superiority
tell. What is fencing if it is not the art of leading your opponent
into a trap, the art of making him think that he will be attacked
in one place, when you mean to hit him in another? the skill to
outwit his calculations, to master his game, paralyse his action,
outmanoeuvre him, reduce him to impotence?--That is the sort of thing
the accomplished fencer sets himself to do.
"Your adversary, you say, will not come to an engagement. Very good;
then you must force him to it by feints, or by threatening to attack.
Either he attempts to parry or he attempts to thrust. In either case
you get command of his blade by a simple or by a double beat, as the
case may be, and then you drive your attack home.
"It holds good with fencing, as it does with all warlike measures,
whether on a large scale or small, that you must not wait for what you
want to be brought to you; you must learn to help yourself; take no
denial, but by force or fraud get possession.
"Now, I appeal to you all as critics, not on a technical question of
fencing, on which no one can be expected to give an opinion without a
thorough knowledge of the art, but on a simpler matter. I will contrast
two assaults. Imagine that you are the spectators. The first is between
two fencers of the classical school, to use the conventional phrase.
"The swords are crossed, and the two adversaries, both gifted with
consummate skill, stand facing each other, foot to foot. Feint follows
feint, and parry parry; a simple attack is delivered, it is succeeded
by a combination. The attitudes of both are irreproachable; the body
always upright; the quick hand with exquisite finesse manipulates
the dancing point by subtle and accurate finger-play. You admire the
exhibition; for a moment you follow the quick passage of the blades,
but your sympathies are not aroused, you are not carried away, or
enthralled in spite of yourself in a fever of anxious expectation.
"Now turn to the other assault. This also is fought by two skilful
fencers, but they go to work on quite a different system.
"Look at the combatants. Instead of standing foot to foot, and blade
to blade, they are out of distance, on the alert, ready to strike but
cautious. Their eyes follow each other, and watch for the tell-tale
movement. Suddenly they close, the blades cross, interlock, and break
away. That was a searching thrust! But by a sudden retreat, a rapid
movement, perhaps a leap backwards, the fencer evades the hit, and is
ready on the instant to give back the point. This assault is a battle
between two men, who mean hard fighting, keen swordsmen, dodgy, artful,
and slippery, who bring to bear all their science, employ every trick
they can think of, and throw themselves body and soul into the fight.
"Now let me ask you, which of these two assaults is the more
interesting to follow?