Between Canon and Art

In the study of historical fencing, where does interpretation end and restoration begin?

By John Clements

The issue of interpretation versus reconstruction, or what can be called "canon," is a topic I considered at length many years ago. As I began to investigate more and more martial arts manuals from the 14th to 17th centuries, noting the different levels of detail among them, I realized that one work would often inform our study of another. The more learned from one the more could be "seen" in the teachings presented by some other. But a central question quickly manifested itself: When studying a work of historical combat how acceptable is it to practice techniques or fighting moves that are not directly presented in the specific work? 

This was a critical matter, as I was determined not to allow perspectives and attitudes from traditional Asian styles to cross-pollinate these fledgling efforts. I was adamant not to permit ideas and concepts from popular martial arts practices to corrupt what was being rediscovered and uncovered.*  In a sense, purity of interpretation became my goal even as we were drowning in examples of different fighting moves from assorted Asian combat disciplines of which modern pop culture is saturated. In time, though, things became easier and easier as the unique motionality and form of Renaissance martial arts intrinsically exerted themselves. The more skillful we became, the more its distinction from other styles manifested. (And the more our knowledge of the genuine lost historical teachings grew, the more the farcical concoctions of stunt-fencing and historical role-play were exposed).

In my efforts, I eventually came to a certain understanding about the process of reconstructing these forgotten combat methods: In exploring any particular martial arts treatise it is common to reach a point at which, as the result of practicing one initial teaching, another technique or action becomes readily apparent even though it is not specifically included within the source in question. This occurs regularly whenever you engage in vigorous practice of fighting skills. When it happens the natural inclination is to accept the intrinsic insight that occurs as self-evident. Even If not directly attributable to the specific source under examination, its validity is implied from the core principles of the larger teachings themselves. It can then be cross-checked by finding correspondence to it in other contemporary source teachings.

An alternative view, however, is to declare anything not specifically found in a historical source to not be canonical. Thus, the reasoning goes that including any technique or action not described in the source arguably corrupts, or at least contaminates, efforts to accurately reconstruct those source teachings. In other words, at a certain point reconstruction becomes interpretation. It's a simple matter: if for example, master or treatise X does not contain technique Y or Z, then you cannot do Y or Z and still claim you are exactly representing those specific teachings of source X. This is certainly a reasonable view. However, it is true only to a certain degree. And I believe it ultimately leads to its own contradiction.

If you only -- only -- perform what is in a particular source work, then fine. You get to show only what is in whatever historical material you are referring to at that time. But what you have then is parts. You end up with a mere few dozen moves, not an understanding of a combat system, not a whole method, and not a martial discipline or a fighting art. The method becomes compartmentalized. You are not practicing the "martial arts" of the historical era so much as demonstrating interpretations of isolated actions that are sourced to one historical document. And you certainly cannot say you have that particular master's whole teachings because you never know what may have been left out or the author chose not to include in the source being relied upon.

	Techniques wonderfully illustrated from an anonymous early 16th century German Fechtbuch. The physical form and the flow of the actions are nothing short of astonishing in the wealth of martial wisdom they convey to the knowing eye. Posture, footwork, motion, contact...This is not a matter of any "style" but application of leverage, timing, balance, and closing distance to intercept or counter the attacker.

In contrast, by examining the whole body of related contemporary European martial literature, you begin to see a pattern: that the major source works present keystone techniques as examples from which the student is able to reasonably and soundly extrapolate other connected actions. I am firmly convinced that is exactly why their authors consciously chose the specific ones to include that they did, because they are seminal. They wisely knew which were the essential techniques that once understood would inherently teach still others. I'm convinced they were compiled for that very reason. Years of discovery and analysis matched with years of instructing in just what I uncovered taught me this insight. Having to write down or draw out what I knew or what lesson I wanted to convey in print, let alone in video lessons and live seminars, also confirmed for me that there are certain things which just unlock everything else.

If a particular source shows, for example, a mere four or five plates on polaxe, does that then mean there are only that many possible actions that this author knew or approved of with that weapon? Does that mean to study those teachings the student today must be limited to exactly those few actions and no other whatsoever? Should not the logical extension of the same source's content on longsword or spear simply be extended to that weapon, thereby providing a far larger repertoire of polaxe techniques? It's common sense that the concepts a master provides for fighting with each weapon he covers are to a large extent interchangeable. It is a simple matter of saving space and avoiding repetition for them to not have presented the general teachings for every case. I believe they knew their readers were wise enough to understand this. Many works even contain no text at all but only reference artwork featuring a small portion of what are in-arguably very fundamental actions (stances, strikes, displacements, closures, weapon seizures, leg-hooks, etc.). These collections are surely meant as samples of centerpiece moves from which to learn the larger method. They provide a starting point by reminding the student of the basics. They are hardly meant to be the entire craft itself.

Still, the bottom line is that no one can claim content that is not present in a source. The evidence has to be there. Instead, we must admit when conjecture and speculation is the result of reasoned extrapolation. And no student of the subject can dismiss that process out of some adherence to "canonical purity." Again, if you focus on core principles and larger concepts and do not pursue a "technique-based" approach to the craft, you will understand far more, for insight and analysis of the source teachings does not occur in a vacuum. The challenge now as students of this craft is not from where to start but where to draw the line.

We might for instance do an exhibition for the public and be asked if the late-14th century master Fiore dei Liberi would have done a certain kind of reasonable technique. We could offer an informed opinion based on the totality of the four editions attributed to his teachings combined with what we know about armed combat at the time to elaborate on the simple sophistication of his method. We process the matter through what we know of the movement form and motions derived directly from exercise in performing his larger teachings. Or we may end up just saying simply, "We don't know." But it be would not be right to flatly declare, "No, absolutely not because it's not in his work!"

I'm reminded here of my favorite line in the 14th century teachings of Johannes Liechtenauer; the one that reads how the simple truth of his words will be self-evident to anyone who can otherwise fight. This passage doesn't mean you have to know his secrets beforehand in order to understand his writings. It means, rather, that the simple truth of his method will be grasped by anyone else who also knows how to properly fight because his teachings just make good martial sense because they're founded on the common laws that underscore all close-combat.  As the master Joachim Meyer wrote in his famous treatise of 1570 when discussing practice:

"...you shall also know that although I have assigned to every posture its particular devices, it is not my intention that these shall not be executed or take place from other postures. The chiefest reason that I have assigned some actions to one posture, others to another, is so they can be discussed in an orderly fashion. Also, these actions are not so set in stone that they cannot be changed in practice; they are merely examples from which everyone may seek, derive, and learn devices according to his opportunity, and may arrange and change them as suits him. For as we are not all of a single nature, so we cannot all have a single style in combat; yet all must nonetheless arise and be derived from a single basis."

In other words, the manner by which Meyer presented his material was such that he did not mean any particular technique was only to be used in whichever fighting stance he described it as being performed in, but by whatever one it works from. The Art is flexible and principles apply holistically. Meyer even stated that, "everyone thinks differently from everyone else, so he behaves differently in combat." Are we to really believe that only Master Meyer was wise enough to know these things that are general knowledge even among many modern amateurs? I hardly think so.