scholarly some of us may be? No, of course he must go deeper and examine the remotest bearings of the particular branch of knowledge, which he will presently have to teach.

V.

“If you want a still more striking analogy, take horsemanship. Most men learn to ride, and can as a matter of fact manage a hack in the park without making an exhibition of themselves, or even join the road-riders when it is a question of following the hounds. But do you suppose that the mere man on horseback takes the trouble to acquire the whole art of horsemanship, the severe mastery which the professional requires, the ‘high airs’ of the school rider? Does every one study the fundamental principles, and analyse the nice distinctions, which go to make the finished equestrian,—such a man as the late Mr Astley?

“How few there are who attain or pretend to attain this rare degree of excellence. And yet they alone can tell you how much perseverance, how much continual application, and downright drudgery they have had to go through. For you may be quite sure that perfect mastery of any kind whatever can only be the matured result of extraordinary diligence. Yet you seldom meet a man who cannot ride tolerably, and you find that men ride with more or less grace, or freedom, or vigour, according to their natural disposition, and gradually perfect their style, or if you prefer it, unconsciously complete their education by the growth of habit and experience. It is just the same with fencing.

“If you would be an accomplished swordsman, you will certainly require years of hard work, close application, and incessant practice. But do you need this recondite skill? What would you do with it? You would find it embarrassing. All that you need as men of leisure, is to be able to use a sword as you do a horse, for your amusement, and when you have occasion for it. And observe I say for your amusement, for no sport is so attractive for its own sake, or so engrossing as the practice of arms.”

“You are of opinion then,” remarked the Comte de C..., “that a man can learn to use a sword without devoting to it more time and trouble than he does to riding?”

“I am sure of it; but don’t misunderstand me, I mean riding in the sense of sticking on. In fact, without driving the analogy too hard, I should say that for both exercises a year at the outside is all that is required to obtain useful and solid results. And I should add that after a few months’ trial you will find that you cannot resist the fascination that belongs unmistakably to both these sports. Surely that is not too much to ask for putting you into good trim, and teaching you how to protect yourself?”

“Then, why don’t they say so?” some one remarked.

“Well, I do say so,” I replied. “And what is more I will make my words good, if one of these days you care to continue this discussion.”

I was unanimously called upon to keep my word, and that the next day.

“Well, to-morrow then,” I replied, “I shall do my best to convince you; but you don’t give me much law.”

“What, with twenty-four hours’ notice?”

“There’s something in that—I will sleep upon it—and so—good-night.”

That is the true history of the making of this book. The following chapters are the record of our conversations, which I have simply put into shape and revised.

The First Evening

[Pg 16]
[Pg 17]

Keep the right foot straight.

I.

The next day after dinner we all reassembled in the smoking-room.

“Well,” said my host, “your audience you see is complete, our cigars are alight, and we are ready to give you our best attention.”

“Of course,” I replied, “you will understand that I have no intention of inflicting upon you a course of instruction. As far as that goes, the books, especially the two that have appeared most recently, by Professors Gomard and Grisier, have said all that is worth saying, and in my judgment perhaps a great deal more. They give too much good advice, too many excellent rules, too many excellent maxims, too many thrusts, feints, parries, ripostes, counter-ripostes, and so forth.

“I am very far from holding with the received doctrine of the necessity or the importance of a great variety of play. I believe that the effectiveness of a skilful fencer depends on the correctness of his inferences, on the alertness and nicety of his judgment, on quickness of hand and precision of movement, whether in attack, parry, or riposte, rather than on a very varied play, which necessitates a much more elaborate training, and so far from being of any real use serves only to perplex the mind.

“The alphabet of fencing, if you will allow the expression, is as fixed and immutable as any other alphabet. Its characters are ascertained and definite motions, which are combined in accordance with the structure and balance of our organism, the natural action of the muscles, and the flexibility possible to the limbs and body. I do not set up for a schoolmaster, and shall not attempt to teach you this alphabet. I assume that you are already acquainted with it. All that I shall do, or at all events try to do, is to discuss the theoretical principles, for apart from them the material factors are only so much dull and senseless machinery.

“I shall try to keep within bounds, and to advance a few simple arguments, to convince you that swordsmanship is neither so slow nor so perplexing as you are inclined to suppose. Above all, I hope you will not allow me to forget that this is a conversation. Remember that you are at liberty to make any remarks that occur to you. That is part of the bargain.”

Several of my friends assured me that I need have no anxiety; they did not mean to let me off too easily.

II.

“To begin then; my first object will be to make my meaning perfectly plain. The thing to do will be to take fencing in its broad outlines. It would be labour thrown away to enter the bewildering labyrinth of those interminable details, which after all are nothing more than the mathematical extension of elementary principles, which may be continued to infinity.

“Fencing in its infancy had to feel its way; its methods were yet to be found, its possibilities to be explored. Little by little, as one period succeeded another and the art became in many respects perfected, changes were introduced, and especially changes that tended to greater simplicity. Old theories became old fashioned and were thrown aside to make room for new doctrines.

“Fencing, in fact, was developed like most other things. But we must not lose sight of the fact that the early methods of the old masters, both in Italy and France, date from the sixteenth or seventeenth century, and that the weapons employed in those days differed materially from ours in shape, weight, and function. The change of weapon has naturally led to a change of method.

“It would doubtless be interesting to the antiquary to trace the successive changes that have taken place in