Are the Gladiatoria MSS Part of the Liechtenauer Canon?

Some readers of this blog may know of my fascination with the so-called "Gladiatoria" family of Fechtbücher, and one or two may even have read my translation of the Krakow edition. Recently, some excellent work by Dierk Hagedorn of Hammaborg has shed an interesting new light on the relationship between these MSS and the Liechtenauer school.

The issue is whether or not the Gladiatoria MSS are to be considered part of the Liechtenauer canon or their own, unique line.

Christian Tobler was the first to argue that many of the plays shown in Gladiatoria are "boilerplate" techniques that match very closely with ones shown in pure Liechtenauer sources such as Ringeck, von Danzig, etc. I agree with him completely on this issue, and have used this to justify the inclusion of Gladiatoria plays in die Schlachtschule’s purely Liechtenauer curriculum. It's possible, however, that the similarity of material was merely an example of parallel evolution; after all, while there are strong similarities, there are also plays that are very different from any shown in any Liechtenauer source (e.g., unscrewing your pommel and throwing it). I, personally, believe these different techniques simply reflect the fact that the Gladiatoria material is much, much more extensive when it comes to Harnischfechten than are other sources; in other words, we might consider the Gladiatoria Fechtbücher to be advanced texts on the subject, so it’s only natural that they should contain material not seen in the other sources.

Dierk Hagedorn has contributed a transcription of one of the more unusual Gladiatoria sources, Cod. Guelf. 78.2 Aug. 2. from the Herzog August Bibliothek—the so-called Wolfenbuettel Fechtbuch. This is an unusual manuscript in that it contains drawings of a wide variety of unarmored forms together with a selection of plates matching the regular Gladiatoria MSS and then a wide variety of war machine drawings (like those seen in Talhoffer 1459); it must be considered an outlier in the Gladiatoria family because of the “extras” it includes. The transcription can be seen here:
http://www.hammaborg.de/en/transkriptionen/gladiatoria_wolfenbuettel/start.php

Looking at Hagedorn’s transcription, we can see that the first two pages show a version of Liechtenauer’s standard Merkeverse. While it is possible that this material was included merely because the author wished to be associated with the famous Liechtenauer line (a claim that could be made for Talhoffer as well, who did the same thing in his 1459 Fechtbuch), it nevertheless does add to the likelihood that the Gladiatoria material belongs within the Liechtenauer canon proper, a contention with which I strongly agree.

A Review of "In Saint George's Name" by Christian Henry Tobler

A BOOK REVIEW OF:
IN SAINT GEORGE’S NAME: AN ANTHOLOGY OF MEDIEVAL GERMAN MARTIAL ARTS
BY CHRISTIAN HENRY TOBLER, FREELANCE ACADEMY PRESS, 2010
Review by Hugh T. Knight, Jr.

Overall, this is an excellent book. In Saint George’s Name is, as the subtitle proclaims, an anthology. Excluding the introduction, preface, etc., the book consists of nine sections or chapters, each dealing with an unrelated essay or translation or set of technique interpretations. It concludes with a glossary of German terms which includes a pronunciation guide. This review will address each chapter in turn.

The Book Itself
The book appears well produced and serviceable. It is perfect bound, is properly and cleanly executed, and the cover seems durable. The coloration and printing of the front and back covers is clear and vibrant, with no smudges or print misalignments. The cover is in full color and the interior is in black and white; the book is approximately 6.9 x 9.9 inches in size. The text, which consists of 207 pages, appears clean and properly printed; there are no crooked, folded, or otherwise misprinted pages. The photographs are clear and of a good size.

Chickens and Eggs: Which Master Came First?
The first chapter of the book is an essay which discusses the extent of our knowledge regarding the dating and authorship of several Fechtbücher. In it, Tobler points out that we can be sure of very few facts about either subject. Some few Fechtbücher contained precise information regarding dates and authorship, but most did not, and the common assumptions made by modern scholars about those that did not are based on very little hard data.

Tobler makes all of this clear and attempts to roughly date some of the sources (his argument about the MS attributed to Ringeck is especially interesting), however, his main point is that many Fechtbücher were compilations and that even when an author is associated with one section, it is a mistake to assume that author had anything to do with other parts of the MS or that the date of one section necessarily corresponds to any of the others.

Master Peter Falkner’s Dagger
In this section, Tobler gives us his interpretation of some (he states it is approximately half, p. 11) of the dagger plays from Peter Falkner’s Fechtbuch.

Tobler’s introduction begins with a very interesting insight into dagger combat: He breaks all dagger fighting into four different classifications, viz. left handed displacements, one-handed dagger displacements, two-handed upper and lower shields, and unarmed displacements.

Tobler then goes on to discuss dagger guards. Unfortunately, he chose to use the “guards” depicted in Hans Talhoffer’s 1449 Ambraser Codex as the exemplar for his guards. In that work, Talhoffer depicts four figures about to thrust with daggers. In one figure the text does mention a guard: “Here he stands in the lower guard with the third stab” (Knight 2008* p. 90), but the other captions make it clear they refer to attacks, not to guards. For example, the first says: “Here is the thrust from above which is also the first thrust” (Knight 2008 p. 88). It seems clear that these four figures, then, represent not guards, but four different attacks. This makes sense, since it would be foolish in the extreme to have a separate guard for each thrust; such a system would instantly alert one’s opponent to the attack about to be made. Guards need to be more neutral—places from which multiple attacks can be launched without telegraphing the nature of the attack in advance. We can infer from the third figure that there is at least one guard—a lower one—which suggests there might be an upper one as well, but if so we are not shown such a guard. Moreover, even the lower guard is not shown clearly; note that the text says he is performing the third stab from the lower guard, not the starting position of the guard itself.

Tobler next discusses the simple attacks of the dagger, basing these upon the four figures in the Ambraser Codex discussed above. These figures, he says, give us four thrusts: One from above with a reversed grip, a backhanded thrust with a reversed grip, a thrust from below with a natural grip, and a two-handed thrust from above intended for armored combat (which, while depicted in several sources, is never shown being actually used, as Tobler points out).

Tobler does not discuss the so-called “French Thrust” performed from above using a natural grip shown, for example, in Codex Wallerstein (see Codex Wallerstein fol. 28v), however, it may well be that that thrust is not mentioned in Falkner, and so was left out of this work. Tobler also fails to mention cuts with the dagger such as those seen in Paulus Kal’s Fechtbuch (see Kal ff. 75v-76r) and in Talhoffer’s 1467 Fechtbuch (see Talhoffer 1467 fol. 87v), but, again, it is to be presumed he left them out because none are mentioned in Falkner.

Next, Tobler gives his technique interpretations, giving examples of techniques from each of the four categories discussed above. Rather than including a series of photographs showing each step of the technique, he instead gives us a copy of the appropriate plate from Falkner’s Fechtbuch to illustrate the technique along with a detailed verbal description of his interpretation of how the technique should be performed. Unfortunately, Tobler does not give us Falkner’s actual text accompanying the techniques. As a result, we are unable to evaluate the accuracy of Tobler’s interpretations, which reduces the value of this section significantly. To be fair, however, Tobler indicates in his introduction that this section of his book represents what he calls “class notes,” and thus may not be as developed as he might have wished. He intends to publish a facsimile and translation of Falkner’s entire book at a later time, so we should be able to analyze this material more fully then.

“Lance, Spear, Sword, and Messer”
This section of the book was a significant disappointment. In it, Tobler attempts to argue that students of the Kunst des Fechtens should study more than just one form of combat (e.g., not just longsword or grappling) in order to see how they all fit together under the framework of a single set of basic principles which will, in turn, help to make those basic principles clear. This is perfectly valid, and needs to be understood by more people. He then gives a brief description of several weapon forms, with a very brief discussion of their similarities and differences.

Tobler then proceeds to argue that not only do the basic principles of Liechtenauer’s art apply to all forms, but that techniques can be extrapolated from one form to another. To illustrate his point, Tobler gives us examples of two extended (meaning several actions that develop from a starting technique) techniques with the longsword, and he then shows how to do the same (or almost the same) series of techniques with other weapons. Each example is accompanied by several photographs showing modern interpreters demonstrating the techniques. This is problematic, however, because it amounts to creating techniques that we have no evidence belonged to the Liechtenauer canon.

It might be argued that if a technique works with one form it can certainly be done with another, and, indeed, we see some of this in the extant material. Some of Lignitzer’s plays of the buckler, for example, closely resemble some of Liechtenauer’s longsword plays, suitably modified, of course, for use with an arming sword and buckler. Such an argument, however, must needs take into account the words “suitably modified” because most techniques do not transfer directly without some modification to allow for the differences in weapons. The problem with that lies in the fact that when we, as modern interpreters, convert techniques from one form to another we are necessarily doing so without knowing how the original masters would have done so. It is possible we might come up with a conversion with which Liechtenauer would have agreed, but we cannot know that for sure. If we had to make such conversions in order to survive fights today that might be reasonable, but we do not. We should be studying historical martial arts, without adding anything to them, not developing a new art by adding our own techniques, regardless of whether we believe those technique to be accurately extrapolated from primary sources.

An example of this problem can be seen when Tobler shows the play of the Zornhau Ort with the short spear (pp. 29-31). In that case, Tobler opens the engagement by having the attacker execute a strike (i.e., a blow, not a thrust) with the blade end of a spear, which the defender then displaces with an overhand blow from his own spear followed by a thrust, and the play continues as with the Zornhau Ort with the longsword. Unfortunately, there do not appear to be any plays in any of the German sources that indicate a striking blow done with the head of a spear (or, if there are, Tobler did not document them here). One probable reason for this is that most medieval spears were tapered from the butt to the head in order to prevent them from being tip heavy once the steel spearhead was attached. This taper renders the front end of the spear relatively fragile and unsuitable for striking. Thus, it seems this extrapolation is invalid until and unless someone publishes documentation from a Fechtbuch showing a blow from the head of a short spear, and, even then, it would be necessary to document using the Zornhau Ort with that weapon.

One confusing (albeit minor) point of nomenclature: Tobler refers to the above mentioned thrust into Long Point after the initial bind as a Zornort, yet in Ringeck’s Fechtbuch it is called a Zornhau Ort: “Wer dir ober hawet, zorn haw ort im dröwet” (Ringeck fol. 19r). In the final commentaries on the sword, Ringeck uses the term Zornort specifically to refer to the winding up into the upper hanging (fol. 58r). Likewise, Talhoffer also uses Zornort to refer to the thrust from the Winden, not from Long Point: “Zorn ortt Im dröw” (Talhoffer 1467 fol. 3r), as does Jörg Wilhalm: “Das ist der Zornortt” (CGM 3711 fol. 4v). Thus, it seems the term Zornhau Ort was used in period to refer to the bind and thrust into Long Point, while the Zornort should refer to a thrust from a Winden (or, at least, from an upper hengen done am Schwert) after the bind. It is not clear why Tobler did not follow that nomenclature, however, this is a very minor point.

This chapter of Tobler’s book goes well beyond what we can reasonably accept as valid interpretation. We can examine similar techniques from different weapon forms that we discover in the various Fechtbücher with an appreciative eye, recognizing the brilliance of the concepts underlying our art, but in this reviewer’s opinion, we should not make up such techniques ourselves because doing so defeats the purpose of studying an historical martial art.

The Messerfechten of Master Paulus Kal
This chapter explores five plays of the Messer taken from Paulus Kal’s Fechtbuch. It is laid out in the same way as the chapter on Falkner’s dagger techniques above, with extensive interpretive text by Tobler accompanied by reproductions of the matching plates from the actual Fechtbuch but no modern photographs. While the actual text from Kal is left out, just as in the dagger techniques by Falkner, in this case the Kal Fechtbuch is readily available in translation (by Tobler), making this less problematic. These techniques are relatively clean and straightforward and appear to be very accurate interpretations of Kal’s teachings.

Hot, Wet, Cold, and Dry: The Four Guards
In this chapter, Tobler discusses the guards of the Liechtenauer longsword in terms of their possible relationship to astrological and alchemical superstitions held by medieval men. The scholarship is excellent.

A Late 15th Century German Poleaxe Treatise
In this chapter, Tobler translates and interprets several plays of the pollaxe taken from a version of Paulus Kal’s Fechtbuch held in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. These techniques are very important because they have not been published prior to this. There are seven techniques listed, and they consist only of text, with no associated drawings.

Tobler presents each technique in turn, giving first a transcription of the original German text, then a translation into English, then a detailed explanation of his interpretation of the technique. In addition, he includes several photographs showing the technique being demonstrated by interpreters in full harness—a nice touch.

This chapter is very well done. The material is laid out both clearly and completely, and the photographs do a good job of demonstrating Tobler’s interpretations. This is, without doubt, one of the most important sections of the book, and it is pleasing to see that here Tobler has given us enough information to realistically analyze the accuracy of his interpretations.

Master Paulus Kal’s Four Hip Wrestlings
This chapter gives us Tobler’s interpretation of the four wrestlings at the hip from Paulus Kal’s Fechtbuch. It follows exactly the same format as the chapters on Falkner’s dagger and Kal’s Messer discussed above, with Tobler’s interpretations written out and supplemented by plates from Kal’s Fechtbuch. As with the other examples mentioned, the original text is not included, nor are there any photographs of modern interpreters.

The Von Danzig Fechtbuch
The last chapter of the book is also the largest, representing more than half the length of the book. It consists of a complete translation of the so-called von Danzig Fechtbuch (Cod. 44 A 8) preceded by a brief chapter of introduction. One gets the impression that the purpose of the book was really to present this translation, but that the author felt it was too short to justify being published on its own, and that the other material was included to round out the size of the book and to present other materials that were also too short to publish on their own (not that there is anything wrong with that). Regardless, this section of the book is worth the entire price of the book, and would have been had the book cost the same amount with nothing else included.

Whatever one may think of Tobler’s interpretations, it must be agreed that his skills at translation are superb, and this chapter proves that beyond any doubt. He manages to present a translation which is accurate and yet which, at the same time, flows well in English without the clumsiness some translators demonstrate. Moreover, in this present work he demonstrates that his skills in this area have, if anything, improved since his previous works were published.

For a student of Liechtenauer’s art, the von Danzig Fechtbuch is one of the most important sources available, both in terms of breadth and completeness. In spite of this, much of the book has never before been published in English, and it was well worth the wait. Tobler’s work here should serve to inspire a tremendous amount of discussion and, probably, re-evaluation among scholars of the art.

Conclusion
Christian Tobler has given us yet another excellent resource for the study of the Kunst des Fechtens. In Saint George’s Name is well produced, reasonably priced, and contains a treasure trove of important information. While some of the arguments expressed in certain chapters may be questioned, the majority of the work is superb. This book is a “must have” for any serious student of Liechtenauer’s art.

*Knight, H., The Ambraser Codex by Master Hans Talhoffer: A Fifteenth-Century Fight Book, Lulu.com, 2008 http://stores.lulu.com/hughknight

Review by Hugh T. Knight, Jr. Copyright © 2010, all rights reserved. It may not be copied or presented in any format whatsoever without the author’s express permission.

A New Book About the German Longsword

I am very pleased to announce the publication of the fourth book in the die Schlachtschule unarmored combat series entitled The Knightly Art of the Longsword by Hugh T. Knight, Jr.

Johannes Liechtenauer, the father of German martial arts, created a system of combat that was second to none in all of history. Later authors wrote books detailing his art, some for earnest combat and others for a sportive version, that have survived to the present day. This book attempts to draw together the writings of various masters of Liechtenauer’s school into a single, comprehensive source detailing the art of fighting in earnest. Not limited to a single author, nor to just the basics of the art, this book attempts to show the full range of Liechtenauer’s art without mixing in any of the more sportive sources from later authors. In addition to the techniques themselves, The Knightly Art of the Longsword includes information on strategic concepts, fundamentals, equipment, finding a school, training, and even how to teach the art. It also includes several carefully documented essays on medieval swordsmanship and how to practice it, along with a complete glossary of German technical terms relating to the longsword and a full bibliography. It is available in both a perfect-bound edition and a spiral-bound edition designed to lay flat and open for use at practices.

This book will be of interest to anyone with an interest in knighthood, medieval combat, history or martial arts in general. Whether you are new to the study of medieval combat or have extensive experience in the art, this fully documented and lavishly illustrated book with more than 340 pages and 600 photographs will be a useful and fascinating addition to your library.

The Knightly Art of the Longsword has been published through Lulu.com and is only available for internet purchase at this time:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=906667

The author is the founder and head instructor of die Schlachtschule: The School of Battle, a school located in southern California and dedicated to rediscovering and practicing the knightly arts of combat from medieval Germany. He has more than 30 years of martial experience ranging from traditional Japanese sword and grappling arts to over ten years of German martial arts practice. He founded die Schlachtschule in 2003 and teaches a curriculum that includes sword, spear, pollaxe, grappling and dagger combat both in and out of armor. More information can be found on the school’s web site:

http://www.schlachtschule.org/

Misguided Terminology

To quote a great scholar and patriot who is a hero of mine, “I’ve had alls I can stand, and I can’t stands no more!” Well, me too: There are just so many mistakes in common usage among students of medieval combat that I, too, have had all I can stand, and I can stand no more; it is time for some corrections.

First, there is no such thing as “chainmail.” None. That term was coined by misguided Victorian antiquarians because of a complete misunderstanding of medieval artistic conventions. When they looked at depictions of mail in medieval artwork they found several different ways of representing it, and because of ignorance and a too-credulous belief in the accuracy of artistic representation (a lesson that should be taken to heart by all students of WMA!), they believed each style of representation was literally accurate and represented a different type of defense: chainmail, banded mail, etc. In reality, different artists simply had different ways of depicting mail, and there is only one form (in Europe; the Japanese had a different style) of mail. There was such a thing as “double mail,” but that term refers to mail of a normal construction but with thicker rings intended to reinforce specific parts of a hauberk. The word “mail” comes from the Latin word for “mesh.”

I should not even have to say it, but the term “plate mail” is also completely meaningless. That term was invented by the makers of a particularly unfortunate role-playing game that has inculcated a large number of children with an incredible amount of ridiculously inaccurate information about medieval combat. The use of this term smacks of an adult living in his mother’s basement.

Further on that line, the word “maille” should never be used in modern sources. Granted, the word was spelled that way in medieval books, but it was a *misspelling* then. This smacks of the abomination “Ye Olde Shoppe” which is *never* correct, and, in fact, has never *been* correct—the “Y” is a poor attempt to capture the “thorn” diphthong symbol often used in Middle English, and we have long since abandoned the extra Es used in suffixes. I have even occasionally seen—heaven forefend—“chainmaille,” a mixed-message abomination I hope to never see again.

Simple shoulder armor is called a “spaudler,” not “spaulder.” Spaudlers are not pauldrons, and the terms are not interchangeable.

When speaking of the typical articulated arm defense of the 14th and 15th centuries, the term “vambrace” should be used to refer to the entire arm harness proper, not to the portion covering the forearm only. These vambraces consisted of the lower cannon (which protected the forearm), the couter (which protected the elbow), and the upper cannon (which protected the upper arm).

The garment worn under armor is referred to by different terms depending on the type of harness worn over it. The knee-length, (often) long-sleeved, padded garment worn under the great hauberks of the 13th century was called an “aketon” (from the Arabic word for cotton), *not* a gambeson. Gambesons were quilted garments, often of rich fabric, worn *over* or in lieu of mail in that period (many of these can be seen in the Mac bible). The best term for the fitted, usually unpadded, garments worn under the tight-fitting plate armor of the later Middle Ages is “arming doublet.” While not universal, the term doublet was most often used in the sources I have seen, and is used in the document “How A Man Shall Be Armed to Fight on Foot” (Hastings MS. [f.122b]). So please, let us not see the term “gambeson” misused any longer.

“Sparring” is a term reserved for pugilism; it has no meaning when applied to free-play bouting with swords. And free-play bouting with swords has no place in what we do, so I do not understand why it keeps coming up.

The term “broadsword” is somewhat problematic. It should *never* be used to refer to the one-handed swords of the middle ages, still less to bastard swords or longswords or swords of war. The term was frequently used to refer to the late-period basket-hilted English sword (often considered Scottish today, but I assure you, the Scots got it from the English) characterized by a double-edged, pointed blade of the sort George Silver referred to as a “short sword.” I, myself, use the term broadsword for this weapon in order to clearly distinguish between it and the backsword, an almost identical weapon with only one sharp edge which Silver includes in the term “short sword.” I do not use the term short sword because it was also used in the High Middle Ages to refer to arming swords, and I wish to avoid confusion between this earlier meaning and Silver’s usage.

Next, the term Fechtmeister: A Fechtmeister is a teacher of medieval combat, not an all-powerful being with 50 years of experience in the art and the ability to leap tall list fences in a single bound who has killed fifty men in *real* fights. Anyone who teaches WMA should call himself a Fechtmeister, just as anyone in the middle ages who taught dancing would call himself a “dance master.” The word master, itself, has come to have far too exalted a meaning in this day and age, causing people to shy away from it. Consider the Krumphau text in Ringeck: He tells us that to “weaken a master” we should strike his flat with the Krumphau (fol. 25v). Can he really mean this technique should only be used against the top experts in the art? Or is he simply using the term to refer to a skilled, well-trained student? The latter is far more likely. Please, avoid the chest-thumping false modesty of decrying the use of accurate medieval terminology; most who do it only do so as a way to put down those whom they dislike, and they demonstrate gross ignorance when they do so.

Finally, lest it seem I only criticize others, let me share my current shame: When I translated the Gladiatoria Fechtbuch, I translated the word “thartschin” or “tartschin” (spelled various ways in the MS) as “ecranche.” This term refers to a small shield used in jousting with a small corner cut out (called the “bouche” in French) to make room for the lance. A literal translation of the word would have been “target,” but that term is often used to refer to a small round shield today, and since most modern authorities I had read used the term ecranche for this kind of shield, I followed their lead. A friend of mine, Will McClean, who is one of the premier experts in the field of medieval deeds of arms, pointed out that the term ecranche is a very modern one, and that the word target was used in period. I should have used the word target, and will do so when I make an updated edition of my book.

A New Book About Pollaxe Combat

I am very pleased to announce the publication of the third book in the die Schlachtschule armored combat series entitled The Play of the Axe: Medieval Pollaxe Combat by Hugh T. Knight, Jr.

This book is intended to introduce the reader to authentic medieval pollaxe techniques as taught by medieval fighting masters. It begins with a general introduction about medieval fight books and the nature of armored pollaxe combat, and follows with a chapter dedicated to the strategic principles of medieval combat as they apply to the pollaxe. The author then gives a detailed chapter on how to train, including information about finding a teacher, training without one, and the equipment necessary for training. Next, the book goes on to explore detailed pollaxe techniques, starting with fundamentals such as stance, footwork and guards, and moving logically through techniques to be used in a wide variety of situations in pollaxe combat. Finally, it ends with an appendix containing instructions for creating drills to use with any of the techniques in the book, rules for free play in armor designed to recreate real combat, and a detailed glossary. Consisting of more than 200 pages containing over 380 pictures, this is the most detailed and carefully-researched book on armored combat written since the Middle Ages. It is available in both a perfect-bound edition and a spiral-bound edition designed to lay open flat for use at practices.

This book will be of interest to anyone with an interest in knighthood, medieval combat, history or martial arts in general.

The Play of the Axe: Medieval Pollaxe Combat has been published through Lulu.com and is only available for internet purchase at this time:

http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=906667

The author is the founder and head instructor of die Schlachtschule: The School of Battle in North Hollywood, CA, a school dedicated to rediscovering and practicing the knightly arts of combat from medieval Germany. He has more than 30 years of martial experience ranging from traditional Japanese sword and grappling arts to over ten years of German martial arts. He founded die Schlachtschule in 2003 and teaches a curriculum that includes sword, spear, pollaxe, grappling and dagger combat both in and out of armor. More information can be found on the school’s web site:

http://www.schlachtschule.org/

On Mixing Styles

When we choose to study Western Martial Arts how do we decide what material to study? Basically, we have four choices: We can study the teaching of a single master or source if that source is complete enough to be rewarding (e.g., Silver or Meyer, but not Codex 11093); or we can study a closely-related group of masters or sources (e.g., the Liechtenauer Society Masters); or we can mix and match various unrelated and often antithetical sources (e.g., mixing Ringeck and Fiore); or, finally, we can ignore historical sources altogether and simply go play tag with fake swords, making up whatever we want to do and ignoring the masters completely.

Obviously the fourth choice is not a valid option; anyone who has read this blog knows why that is so, so I won’t belabor the point except to continue to remind the folks who do this that there’s no reason in the world to make up a new system of combat—it’s already been done by those far more qualified to do so—and unarmored free play always has and always will change the system being studied: The Kendo Syndrome can not be denied.

Just as obviously the first two choices are perfectly valid. I have often thought of giving up Liechtenauer to study Silver because I find his material to be brilliant, but, alas, my heart is fixed on Harnischfechten and the pollaxe, neither of which Silver addresses. Meyer is, likewise, fascinating, and his books show a rich, and potentially very rewarding system—but, again, no Harnischfechten (as an aside, lately I’ve been accused of being opposed to Meyer or of putting him down because he taught Schulfechten; nonsense! I think he is a great choice for study for those not interested in Harnischfechten).

The second option, studying closely-related sources, is an excellent and perfectly valid choice but is not as perfect as the first option because when you start mixing then you run the risk of making changes. For example, let’s say that you study Liechtenauer through Döbringer, Ringeck, Kal, and von Danzig. Now let’s say that Paulus Kal’s book showed technique A being done one way, and all the other sources described it another. Which way do you choose?

What if, in his day, Kal was considered perfectly conventional in every single thing (he wasn’t, by the way) except technique A, and in that he was considered a radical for breaking with the Liechtenauer tradition. Not knowing that, you practice technique A as Kal showed it because he has a picture to help you understand it while the others do not. Now, if Liechtenauer came back from the dead, he’d look at what you’re doing and say that it was contrary to his way of doing things. No great harm, you say, after all, it’s pretty certain every master changed Liechtenauer’s art in some way. True, very true, but let’s say every one of the masters listed above had a technique like technique A; now you’d be doing techniques B, C, and D, too, and no real school of German combat ever used that combination of techniques. In effect, then, you would have created a new style of combat; one related to and derived from real schools of medieval combat, but still different.

Now I’ll grant that this example is likely a very small thing, and that the overall system you’d be practicing would be close enough to a real style of combat to be perfectly valid today, particularly given how much confusion we have about how a *lot* of techniques are to be done. I’m not trying to imply that four unusual interpretations make for an invalid system of study, not at all. But caution and diligence are required lest we go too far.

Having said that, I like the idea of using multiple sources to approach a single school; as Sydney Anglo wrote in his Renaissance Martial Arts, you can use what he calls a “dossier approach” to compare and contrast multiple sources, each with a slightly different way of expressing any given technique, in order to see the technique several different ways and thus build a much more creditable understanding of the technique being studied. Those studying a single master rarely have that luxury. Besides, no single source represents a complete system; I love Ringeck’s Fechtbuch, but he covers neither dagger nor pollaxe, and I would miss both forms.

But now we come to the troublesome option: Those who want to mix and match different systems with very different approaches to combat to build a system of their own. The most common mixes are Liechtenauer and Fiore, but I also know of one misguided young man who is proud to be mixing English, German (both Ernstfechten and Schulfechten!) and Italian longsword with Silver and goodness only knows what else.

Many who mix unrelated styles argue that all systems are really just the same thing; after all, they claim, there are only so many ways a human being can use a weapon. The young man I mentioned above has even gone so far as to claim, despite all of the evidence to the contrary, that there is only one pan-European school of swordsmanship. If there are only so many ways a man can fight, then why is it I can easily tell the difference between most of the techniques of Ringeck and those of Fiore? How can I instantly recognize the differences between Katori Shinto-ryu and Maniwa Nen-ryu and Eishin ryu? Since there’s only one way to fight shouldn’t all of these systems be the same? And how can I tell the differences between judo, jujutsu and aikido? Again, aren’t there only so many different ways to fight? Sure, there can be overlaps: Both Shotokan Karate-do and Taekwondo use front snap kicks and straight punches, but to any but the most casual viewer the overall effect of watching people from each style will make it clear they’re doing something very different. So saying that both Ringeck and Fiore have a technique in which you bind then thrust from the bind “proves” they’re really the same system is specious nonsense.

I’ve read people who claim that the deeper they study both Liechtenauer and Fiore the more they come to see them as the same thing. Untrue—that’s like saying the more you study apples and oranges the more you see them as the same thing. They may both be fruits, but they’re otherwise quite different, as a truly deep analysis will show. The more I read about Fiore and talk with those who study and teach his art the more I realize how fundamentally—I’m tempted to say “radically”—different his system was from that of Liechtenauer.

So any attempt to mix and match unrelated sources is really bound to create a new system; one never practiced in history. “So what?”, some people ask; didn’t Liechtenauer admit traveling all over Europe studying with different and presumably unrelated masters to develop his system? Yes, he did, and it was perfectly justified in his day, when people really used these skills in real life. But we, today, are supposed to be studying *historical* combat; combat the way it was really done. How can we do that when doing so means we eschew real systems of medieval combat in favor of making up a new one today when we’re not living in an environment where the skills of our art are being used for real? We’re not *qualified* to make a new system. You can’t say that you’re doing the same thing Liechtenauer did because you’re not doing it in the same environment (and, by the way, you’re likely no Liechtenauer!).

The only possible justification for developing a new style of combat is to develop one that’s more effective than the existing styles—one that will let you win more fights, in other words. But we don’t need to win fights today with swords and armor, such things just have no meaning in our modern lives. Only those living in a dungeons and dragons fantasy world argue about being “real swordsmen.” Our only valid reason for studying WMAs is to resurrect real systems that existed in the middle ages; making up new systems should be left to LARPers and their ilk.

Otake-shihan on Freeplay

I just found a great quote I wanted to share with anyone reading this blog. You've all read things I've written about Otake Risuke, the current Shihan of Tenshin Sho-dan Katori Shinto-ryu. This ryu is the oldest extant Japanese martial arts school and is listed as an ‘intangible cultural asset’; it comes from the days when bushi fought for real. Otake-shihan is considered a living national treasure of Japan and is the only one who holds a full license (gokui kaiden) in the art. In my opinion he is the greatest swordsman of any system living today. This quote can be found in its entirety here: http://www.cateransociety.com/Joseki.htm:

"Kata is still the teaching method in the classical Japanese sword arts precisely because it preserves the essence of the art's history—the art as it was understood by those who created it. Some schools, such as the Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu … pride themselves on the fact that they have never used any type of free sparring in their practice.

{Otake-shihan said:} “(I)t is said that a shiai, or competitive contest, is synonymous with shiniai, which means ‘to meet for the sake of death.’ That is another way of saying that any kind of combat is a serious matter of life and death. As a result, from then until now, competitive matches have been forbidden in Katori Shinto Ryu...”

Otake-shihan then went on to say that, in bouting, "the vital responsibility and danger of handling a real weapon is replaced by the mental approach of the game-player with a toy weapon."

Game players with toy weapons. Perfect. Real swordsmen don’t do freeplay.