Monday, April 29, 2019

A Review of the Henry V Sword from Arms and Armor

Introduction:
There is a “lovely little sword” (Oakeshott p. 67) in Westminster Abbey which is associated with the funeral achievements of Henry V.  I recently acquired a modern copy of this sword from Arms and Armor of Minneapolis, MN (http://arms-n-armor.com/sword075.html) as part of my collection of reproduction weapons which match the forms our school studies, and offer this review of the sword.  Note that this is the flat-ground sword, not the hollow-ground version shown on the same page.







Physical Characteristics:
Weight: 2.7 lbs. (hollow ground version: 2.3 lbs.)
Length, overall: 33.5”
Length, blade: 27.5”
Length, grip: 3.75”
Width at cross: 2.25”
Width at PoP: 1.25”
Point of Balance: 2.5” from cross
Point of Percussion: ~17” from cross

Oakeshott Typology:
Blade: Type XVIII
A broad blade (2”–2½” at the hilt) of four-sided “flattened diamond” section; the edges taper in graceful curves to a sharp point. The grip is of moderate length (3¾”–4”) ... 

In XV, the edges run quite straight to the acute point, giving a very narrow appearance to the lower part of the blade. In XVIII, the edges run in curves, and the lower part of the blade looks broader. The type is, in fact, admirably adapted for a cut-and-thrust style of fighting, and seems to be a logical development of Type XVI. The strong midrib gives great rigidity, yet toward the point at the centre of percussion there is plenty of width to each edge. The section varies, the four faces may be quite flat, but more usually they are gently hollowed; in later examples the sharp upstanding rib rising from a flat blade is found (fig. 105). Some XVIII's which have been much used and often sharpened are impossible to distinguish from XV's... (Oakeshott pp. 67-69).

Pommel: Type J1
This is an elaborated form of the classic wheel pommel. Its best exemplar is a sword of Type XVIII preserved in the library of the Abbey of Westminster, a most beautiful weapon which is associated with the name of King Henry V (fig. 75). This is no mere funerary object, but a magnificent fighting sword (bearing upon its still sharp edges much indication of use) which comes to life in one's hand. The pommel is very massive, but its weight is kept down because only the central thick disc is of solid iron; the raised rims are beaten out of thin iron and brazed on to the main part of the pommel (id. pp. 103-104).

Cross: Style 9
Akin to 7 in that it is ribbon-like in section, but the resemblance ends there. The ends are always rolled over, in section it is either flat on top and V-shaped underneath or of flat diamond section, and the ecusson grows naturally to a cusp from the slight taper of the arms (id. pp. 117).

Handling Characteristics:
Oakeshott said of Henry V’s sword: “This is no mere funerary object, but a magnificent fighting sword (bearing upon its still sharp edges much indication of use) which comes to life in one's hand” (id. p. 103).

The thing you notice first when taking up this reproduction by Arms and Armor is the nimble quickness it exhibits.  The blade is extremely well balanced, making the sword feel lighter than it actually is.  The proximity of the Point of Balance (“PoB”) to the cross makes the sword very fast and reactive in the hand, with less “blade presence” than swords having the PoB farther from the cross.  In spite of this, the overall heft of the sword gives it a feeling of authority in use—it is no mere willow wand, and it cuts with quick authority.

Oakeshott said Type XVIII swords were “admirably adapted for a cut-and-thrust style of fighting” (id. p. 67), and this modern recreation demonstrates that admirably.  The nimbleness mentioned above, combined with the relative shortness of the blade (bringing the point closer to the hand), the stiffness of the diamond-shaped blade, and the wickedly acute shape of the point combine to create a superb thrusting sword.  It balances so well in one’s hand that point control is effortless.  At the same time, the Type XVIII design brings more of the “meat” of the blade forward than in swords designed primarily for thrusting, such as the Type XV’s they otherwise so closely resemble.  This makes for a highly efficient cutting weapon.  While it is a mistake to think of sword typologies as developing in some linear fashion along a path from one purpose to another, Oakeshott himself called this a development of the Type XVI (id. p. 68), which was, in turn, a development of the Type XV intended to improve cutting ability while still thrusting well.

Another factor to consider is the effect the shape of the blade has on thrusting attacks.  Some people look at early swords with very broad points and mistakenly assume they aren’t intended for thrusting, but, in reality, this is incorrect, they are simply intended for thrusting against entirely unarmored targets.  Having a wider point means the thrust does more damage, but the shape of the points on later swords need to balance that objective against the need (or potential need) to thrust into small gapes in armor, or even into mail links.

We can understand this question of point shape by looking at arrows.  Arrows do not have any percussive effect—they kill entirely by cutting action in the target, with almost none of the hydrostatic shock upon which bullets rely.  Thus, hunting points tend to be extremely broad to maximize the amount of cutting damage the arrow does, while war points tend to be extremely narrow so they can pass between plates (arrows, like swords, can almost never penetrate plate, popular ignorance notwithstanding) or punch through links of mail.  That way armor offers a second kind of defense beyond merely helping to stop most attacks:  It forces your opponent to use a weapon which does less damage when it does penetrate.

Sword thrusts are exactly like arrow strikes in terms of damage.  The wider the point, the more damage a thrust will do; the narrower the point, the better the weapon is against armored opponents.  Type XV swords were developed during the Age of the Transition when armor was becoming more complete and protective.  The initial approach to better armor was to use large “Swords of War” of the Type XIII sort, but these swords proved unsatisfactory, and the Type XV was the result.  With their extremely narrow points, they were superb at thrusting between plates and breaking links of mail underneath.

Unfortunately, dedicated thrusting swords such as the Type XV’s are not quite as efficient for cutting when fighting unarmored opponents.  This led to the development of the Type XVI, with blades which transitioned more gradually to the point, leaving more “meat” further forward on the blade for better cutting while still retaining an excellent narrow point.  The Type XVIII is a further development of the Type XVI, where the fuller near the cross is eliminated to make the sword even more stiff for thrusting.  It is usually a mistake to imagine a linear development of sword types, but in this case Oakeshott makes this particular line of development clear (id. p. 68).

In a sense, the Type XVIII is a compromise design.  It is neither as perfectly suited for thrusting as the Type XV, nor as well suited to cutting as is the Type X; rather, it combines the two designs for a more balanced ideal, a true cut and thrust sword optimized for both cutting and thrusting in armor or out of it.  Arms and Armor has captured that balanced ideal very well in this reproduction, making a sword which, as Oakeshott said of the original, “comes to life in one’s hand.”

Fit and Finish:
Arms and Armor is well known for their craftsmanship and for being among the best of the production sword manufacturers, and their Henry V sword supports that reputation.  The sword is extremely well made.  The shapes are consistent and even, with no “off” or crooked lines.  The decorative lines filed onto the cross are neat and well executed, and they align aesthetically with the edges of the blade.  The cross and pommel are fit to the blade extremely well, with correct alignment and no significant gaps.  The blade, cross, grip, and pommel are absolutely solid and rigid, with no wobble or movement at all, even when tapped against solid object.  The polish is generally clean and smooth, taken to a satin finish which is excellent for this kind of reproduction.  The inside of the pommel cutout is not polished, but it is fairly clean with only a little roughness (and is intended to be filled with some token or symbol anyway).

The grip is covered in leather which is stitched heavily along one side.  The leather fits the hilt reasonably well, with only a slight bunching against the cross, and the fit is very tight and firm.  The grip is the only place where the Arms and Armor sword falls slightly short in comparison with other high-end manufacturers.  The seam is extremely thick and obtrusive, making it slightly uncomfortable to hold the seam side against one’s palm because of the bulk.  The smooth wrap is also less aesthetically appealing than the string-wrapped technique often present on other high-end replicas (although that technique is not universal on real swords, by any means).  It should be emphasized that this is a minor point, and represents a personal preference as much as an objective criticism.

Compromises:
While the Henry V sword is an extremely good sword which captures the essence of the originally very well (and far, far better than most other reproductions), it is not a perfect copy.  Arms and Armor made several decisions with regard to the manufacture of this replica in order to make the sword more readily affordable.  We will consider the three most obvious ones here.

First, the original sword’s pommel is not a solid casting.  The raised lip on the original is hammered out of thin sheet iron and then brazed into place in order to reduce the overall weight while still presenting a large, solid wheel (id. p. 103).  The Arms and Armor pommel is cast from one piece of steel, a process far less expensive than hammering out a hollow fitting and then brazing it into place, a process Oakeshott says was used in others of the type in period (id.), and so hardly worthy of criticism.

Second, on the original, the tang is riveted directly to the pommel, whereas on the reproduction there is a peening block between the pommel proper and the end of the tang.  It is not clear why Arms and Armor chose to do this, unless it is to reduce hammer marks (or the effort of polishing them away) on the pommel from the peening process.  Regardless, this difference is utterly inconsequential, and, in fact, the modern result is, if anything, more aesthetically pleasing.

The third difference, the blade grinding, is much more problematic, although ultimately justifiable.  Of the Type XVIII blade design, Oakeshott wrote “the four faces may be quite flat, but more usually they are gently hollowed” (id. p. 68), and the hollow grind is pronounced on the original blade in Westminster Abbey.  Arms and Armor offers their Henry V reproduction both with and without the hollow-ground blade, but the example being reviewed here is not hollow ground.

The hollow-ground version weighs 2.3 pounds, compared with 2.7 pounds for this version, a significant difference.  However, the hollow-ground blade costs approximately $600.00 more, making flat-ground version far more affordable.  Moreover, the handling of the flat-ground version is superb as it is and does not suffer enough to make this approach unacceptable, especially given that Oakeshott pointed out that not all Type XVIII’s were hollow ground.  Indeed, one might ask whether the heavier solid pommel of the reproduction might not make the flat ground version handle more like the original by giving it a better balance than the hollow-ground reproduction with the same pommel has.

This decision to offer the sword with a flat-ground blade is not a failure of quality or scholarship, but rather a conscious choice intended to offer a more affordable reproduction, and it is perfectly reasonable.  If this sword were as clunky or unbalanced as most other efforts at reproducing Henry V’s sword are this choice might be questionable, but given how this blade feels in the hand, Arms and Armor deserves no criticism for this choice.

Conclusion:
The Henry V reproduction by Arms and Armor is a superb recreation of a true fighting sword which perfectly typifies the qualities of the original.  It is quick and nimble with excellent balance, has superb fit and finish, and is quite reasonably priced.  It is reasonably accurate in terms of design, and where it differs from the original it does so not from error but from a conscious effort to make a less expensive but still eminently functional sword.  This reproduction is superb, and should be considered by anyone interested in arming swords of the Fifteenth Century.

Here is a video adjunct to this review:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wpsa83Xv85s

Reference cited:
Oakeshott, E. The Sword in the Age of Chivalry. Arms and Armour Press, 1981.

Friday, April 19, 2019

What’s in a Name? The Difference Between Longswords and Bastard Swords in the Fechtbücher



 Many of those who study medieval swords can be somewhat cavalier (pun intended) regarding the precise lexicology of sword types.  It is to be hoped that any who consider themselves serious students of the subject will understand that the term “broadsword” refers not to large, heavy cruciform swords of the type hoi polloi mean when they use the term, but rather to basket-hilted, double-edged swords of the type developed in England.  Some terms, however, remain indistinct or confusing, even among the cognoscenti, especially the term “bastard sword.”

Many sources tend to lump bastard swords together under the broad heading of longswords (I do so myself in my unarmored longsword book, to my shame), and yet a careful study will show a distinction between the two terms, and, indeed, we see that distinction made manifest in the Fechtbücher, as this essay will demonstrate. In this essay, I will urge the sense of the term taught by the great Ewart Oakeshott, who referred to bastard swords as “hand-and-a-half” swords, meaning that they fell between arming swords and longswords, and could be used as easily with one hand on the hilt as with two [1].  Conversely, we will limit the term “longsword” to swords which are generally used only with two hands on the hilt (except in armor, of course) because using them one-handed, while possible, would be awkward.

That definition is not absolute in the literature.  For example, in 1801 Joseph Strutt referred to a bastard sword as “A sword without edges or point.” [2] However, as early as 1617, Joseph Swetnam referred to: “The Bastard Sword, the which sword is something shorter than a long sword, and yet longer than a short sword.” [3] The term “hand-and-a-half sword” only dates to the late nineteenth century [4], but it seems clear this is what Swetnam meant and we will hold that term to be synonymous with bastard sword.

This distinction between bastard swords and longswords shows up in the Fechtbücher.  When we look at the Gladiatoria Fechtbuch from the first half of the fifteenth century, for example, we see similar swords used both in an out of armor.  All of the swords in that source, whether used in armored combat or out of armor with a Langenschilte or buckler seem to be bastard swords, with hilt and blade lengths appearing to be the same for all (note, however, that this source does not contain any unarmored longsword combat).
Longswords in Harnischfechten in Gladiatoria:  http://wiktenauer.com/images/7/74/MS_Germ.Quart.16_08r.jpg
Sword and Langenschilt in Gladiatoria: http://wiktenauer.com/images/1/18/MS_Germ.Quart.16_54v.jpg

In Paulus Kal’s 1470 Fechtbuch we see a distinct difference between the longswords used for halfswording in armor or for unarmored longsword and the bastard swords used one handed for sword and buckler combat.
Longsword in Harnischfechten in Paulus Kal:
Longswords in Bloßfechten in Paulus Kal:
Sword and buckler in Paulus Kal:

The distinction is even plainer in Hans Talhoffer’s 1467 Fechtbuch.  There we see distinctly different swords for unarmored longsword or armored halfsword combat (longswords), Langenschilt combat (bastard swords), and sword and buckler combat (arming swords).
Longswords in Bloßfechten in Talhoffer 1467:  http://wiktenauer.com/images/5/53/Cod.icon._394a_8r.jpg
Longsword in Harnischfechten in Talhoffer 1467:  http://wiktenauer.com/images/7/7f/Cod.icon._394a_37v.jpg
Sword and Langenschilt in Talhoffer 1467:  http://wiktenauer.com/images/c/c4/Cod.icon._394a_68r.jpg
Sword and Buckler in Talhoffer 1467:  http://wiktenauer.com/images/c/c7/Cod.icon._394a_117r.jpg

From this we can develop a rough grouping of sword categorizations:  Arming swords are intended for one-handed use; longswords for two-handed use (except in armor); and bastard swords can be used either one- or two-handed.  Note that the distinction between bastard swords and longswords isn’t necessarily tied to Oakeshott’s sword types.  For example, while the bastard swords in Talhoffer 1467 all appear to be Type XVa’s, some of the longswords appear to be XVa’s (albeit with longer hilts than those common in the previous century) while others appear to belong to the Type XVIII series (the art is not perfectly clear on this distinction, and, indeed, Oakeshott himself pointed out that blurring occurred between types).  The real distinction seems to be that bastard swords are a bit longer than arming swords, but somewhat shorter than longswords, especially in the hilt.  This may seem unclear when merely looking at the art of the period, but becomes much plainer when actually handling swords of each type.  The author owns a highly accurate replica of a Type XVIIIb longsword which is simply not comfortable for use one handed, even though a Type XVa of similar quality by the same company is easy to use with either one or two hands.

End Notes:
[1] Oakeshott, Ewart.  The Sword in the Age of Chivalry. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1997, p. 60.
[2] Strutt, Joseph. The Sports and Pastimes of the People of England from the Earliest Period: Including the Rural and Domestic Recreations, May Games, Mummeries, Pageants, Processions and Pompous Spectacles. Methuen & Company, 1801, p. 211.
[3] Swetnam, Joseph. Schoole of the Noble And Worthy Science of Defence. Chapter XII. 1617. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1H2dBiXFry779WfdpBGFA8Bky7iLHneNi5_Lq9djVhr0/edit#. Accessed 4/19/2019.
[4] Cox, Trenchard. A General Guide to the Wallace Collection.  London: Wallace Collection, 1976, p. 155.


Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Resurrection, Not Invention


I recently watched a video of a Hontai Yoshin-ryu kata which demonstrated a rather interesting tanto-dori or “knife taking” waza.  Having once been a ju-jutsuka myself and later studying military combatives, I was impressed by the technique, but considered the initial wrist grab to be somewhat inefficient, thinking to myself that I knew a better way to do it.  I instantly set that thought aside, however, realizing I had fallen into the trap of trying to “improve” historical systems of combat.  If they did it that way, it would no longer be Hontai Yoshin-ryu, which defeats the entire purpose of studying koryu bujutsu today (as opposed to mere self defense) in the first place.  They would be trying to improve a historical artifact rather than understanding it, and thus would be destroying the very thing they were trying to preserve.

This has, obviously, strong parallels for those of us studying the Kunst des Fechtens today.  The only valid goal for the study of historical martial arts should be to recreate and then preserve them as they actually were.  To “improve” them (as we ignorantly might think we are) is anathema to that goal.  It literally defeats the purpose.  Understanding how to do that requires searching the Fechtbücher for clues as to how the techniques were performed in period, and keeping our modern notions out of things as much as possible.

Not long after I watched that video we were discussing the Zornhau in class.  I was emphasizing how important it is to make the cut with your pommel well over to your left when executing a Zornhau from the right shoulder (see the picture above) regardless of whether you were cutting or displacing, rather than cutting with the pommel in line with your sternum as most people mistakenly do it today.  I asked my students whether they thought I was right in teaching it this way, and if they agreed that I was, how they could be  sure (I often make my students question my interpretations).

My senior student immediately answered that it was a matter of geometry, saying that if you cut with your pommel on your center line your opponent can hit you in the bind, or if you’re displacing, you won’t close the line well enough and the cut you’re trying to displace can still hit you.  He was right, of course—I consider this one of the most subtly brilliant parts of our art, and I was well pleased that he understood this.

It didn’t actually answer my question, however.  My student pointed out why it’s a good way to cut—why it works, and why it’s effective.  His answer, however, did not indicate how we know that to be the correct way to interpret Master Liechtenauer’s art, which was the key point I was trying to make.  It’s the point we must make every time we interpret a technique, and that we must bear in mind for every part of every technique.  How do you know this is how it was actually done in the Liechtenauer system in period?  Not “how might it be done” or “how can I make this work really well,” but “How did Master Johannes Liechtenauer and his students do it?”  The right way might not be the best way—the German masters were human, too.

To accomplish that, we have to really read what the masters had to say.  Master Peter von Danzig (we’ll presume it was he) wrote this about the Zornhau:
“The Zornhau breaks all cuts from above with the point and yet is nothing other than a strike which a peasant farmer would use. Use it as follows: if you come into the Zufechten and your opponent strikes from his right side to your head, then likewise also strike from your right side from above without displacing and bind strongly against his sword. If he is soft in the bind, shoot straight in and long with the point to his face or chest.” (Codex 44 A 8 fol. 13r.)

Later, writing about displacing, the master said:  “You are not to displace the way other fighters do. When they displace, they hold their point up or to the side. This means that they cannot attack the four openings in the displacement with the point. Because of this, they are often hit. If you want to displace though, then do it with a cut or a thrust and strive to reach the nearest opening Indes. This way, masters cannot come to blows against you without endangering themselves.” (Id. fol. 26v.)

What we learn from this is that we are not to make “empty displacements” that just strike into our opponent’s sword (as sword taggers all do today, and as bad swordsmen apparently did in period), but rather, we are to displace with a cut—the same kind of cut we’d use for an attack.  There aren’t really any “blocks” of the sort modern martial arts students use in our art; instead, we displace with regular cuts and thrusts in such a way that at the end, we threaten the enemy with our point.  That’s what Master Peter meant above by cutting from your right side “without displacing.”

But how can this be done safely?  Christian Tobler coined the phrase “make your sword your shield” many years ago, and I actually thought he took the phrase from a Fechtbuch at first because it so aptly matches what we have to do.  We must make our swords our shields, so that when we cut (or when we use cuts to displace) we are safe as we do so.

We know how the Zornhau is supposed to be done:  It is not a wide swinging action done with the arms from guard to guard as many of the ignorantsia (to coin a phrase) practice it today when playing silly games of sword tag or ludicrously incorrect test cutting, but rather is done in a straight line using a push-pull motion of the hands, as if a cord were tied from your edge to the target (see Ms 3227a fol. 14v), and ending with your point at or near your opponent (id. fol. 24r), not down near the ground, up in the air, or out to the side.

Understanding all of that, we then have to ask ourselves how we can use such a cut to safely displace a similar one.  As my students can tell you, using a Zornhau to displace a determined Zornhau will result in you getting hit unless you close your opponent’s line of attack as you displace by moving your pommel over to the left side of your chest (for a cut from the right).  They frequently do get hit in class when they try to displace without moving their pommels over to the left as they displace, unless they beat into their opponent’s sword in the kind of empty displacement Master Peter told us not to use.  That is where my senior student’s point about the geometry of the technique comes into play—that is how you make it work.  Now we are using that idea to answer the problem of making the masters’ instructions work when we do things the way they say to do it, and not just trying to figure out a way to do a thing from whole cloth because it works or seems like a smart or effective approach.

This essay is about the process of interpretation:  How do we work out the correct way of doing a given technique, going beyond the often incomplete descriptions the masters give us in the Fechtbücher?  The answer lies in correlating not just different parts of the same text, but all the related texts in order to find clues about how the technique has to work and what it’s supposed to  do when you use it, then using those clues to inform your interpretation.  Your interpretation should reconcile as much of the instructional material as possible and look for the best way to make the technique work in view of all those bits of information, eschewing your own personal ideas about how to do a thing garnered from other study or, heaven forfend, silly, meaningless games of sword tag or test cutting.  Our job is to resurrect a lost art as it was really done, not to invent a new one with no historical accuracy or relevance to our modern world.