"There is one last objection that I will anticipate.
"What, I may be asked, becomes of your scheme of defence, if, the
moment that the novice extends his sword at a venture, the adversary
engages it?
"Without a doubt that is what he ought to do, and what he will do, as I
shall presently explain. But you do not imagine, I suppose, that a man
completely ignorant of the use of his weapon, who goes to a professor
for advice on the eve of an encounter, can hope to come away comforted
with the assurance that he has learnt the whole art of how to hit his
opponent without being touched himself? That, I fancy, would be too
convenient. It would be better then to study the art of not learning
to fence, instead of spending months and years in studying the art of
fencing. Ignorance would indeed be bliss and wisdom folly.
"The man who has not learnt the use of the weapon to which he entrusts
his life, may think himself lucky if he can lessen the chances,
to which he is exposed, of a fatal issue. The master can hope to
accomplish nothing more than to give his pupil some confidence, and
show him the only course that can be commended by common sense and at
the same time furnishes some sort of defence.
"If the novice does what he is told he will, I repeat, put difficulties
and dangers in the way of his opponent; he will force him to act with
caution, he will keep him at long range, and compel him to shift
his ground when he attacks. In shifting his ground he may, either
through carelessness or in the excitement of the moment, leave himself
uncovered, and give an opening to the point that is continually
directed at him. But I do not for a moment suppose that a wary and
experienced fencer, who keeps his head cool, will not easily defeat
such elementary strategy.
"You may tell your pupil to be prudent, you may tell him to be calm and
resolute, but now or never you should add the pious wish 'Heaven help
you'."