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“
So art helps nature, nature strengtheneth art
.”
By J.
Clements
In teaching or demonstrating
the techniques of Renaissance
weaponry, an issue is sometimes
raised as to how
realistically or how slowly one should train
and practice
–with intent and energy or not?
Similarly, in delivering blows another question
comes to the
forefront: how much force or strength should one
use when
training?
No one would argue that a fearsome full-arm blow
with a
longsword is not harder to displace than would be a shorter
(although quicker) blow from the half-arm. No one could reasonably
argue either that a longer outstretched blow would somehow do
less damage than a shorter one, since it’s logical that a smaller
swing cannot possibly have as much force as a larger one moving
in a greater arc. It’s a simple fact of physics that the larger
the circumference a blow travels, the more force is behind it.
Today, while many of us train by swinging blunt
weapons
through empty air or hitting pells, and occasionally trying
to cut at static targets, the historical fighters by comparison
had to strike other men with sharp weapons, and do so in a manner
that prevented them from hitting back. It would appear obvious
that to do this effectively they did so strongly. But did historical
fencers really need to hit that hard?
In other words, how important was strength in Renaissance
swordplay?
Can we go “soft” today, or do we need to try
things with
force and energy?
Tales
of might…and the myth of strength
Chivalric literature of the Middle Ages is resplendent
with
accounts of knights delivering especially powerful hits,
and
strong sword blows are frequently identified with the prowess
of warriors. Romantic literature of the 13
th
and 14
th
centuries is full of tales and commentary about the power of
cuts
made by knightly heroes. The necessity of physical
strength as
an attribute for a man at arms is found
throughout writing of
the period. Characters such as
Siegfried, Roland, Arthur, Lancelot,
etc. were all known for
their tremendous horse cleaving, armor
splitting, or
tree-felling blows. In Germanic chivalric romances the term gewalt or kraft, meaning physical strength or applied physical force, is closely associated with the acts of knights. This constant reference to the
force of
strikes, although often terribly exaggerated, must reflect
something of the nature of wielding such weapons in combat.
If we take it as any evidence of what was valued in knightly
combat, then certainly hitting very hard, or cutting deeply, was
considered important.
But, the popular impression has been that Medieval
fencing
relied mainly on strength and endurance more than any
technique.
Part of this myth about strength being the basis
of knightly
fencing skills stems from lack of information among
those
later writers who misinterpreted historical sources. But
the
larger part of the view derives from a complete and widespread
lack of understanding about how earlier arms and armor (especially
swords) were actually employed. Unfortunately, this has been true
of many historians of Medieval and Renaissance warfare as well.
The influential 1885 work on the art of war in the Middle Ages
by the young Sir Charles Oman, which asserted the total
insignificance
of infantry and complete primacy of the
untutored clash by mounted
knights in heavy armor, was to
misinform Medievalists for some
50 years. Perhaps this
prejudice has its origins in 19th century
fencing schools and
the view that compared to their own contemporary
featherweight fencing tools, older arms and armor were ponderous
and unwieldy.
Leading
Medieval and Renaissance fencing historian,
Professor Sydney Anglo, has pointed out that
the common view
of chivalric combat as being an untutored art
based solely on
strength, endurance, and brutality is entirely
false.
Yet, for more than a century this was the common
expert
opinion articulated by earlier fencing researchers such
as
The myth of earlier swordsmen having to fight
by strength
alone is discredited by the great 14th century German
master,
Johannes Liechtenauer himself who alluded to
buffel
or “buffalos” as a demeaning term for untrained fencers who
likely,
rather than using skilful technique to strike, relied
on their
strength and raw force alone to strike wide blows.
It wasn’t that Liechtenauer was against
strength
itself, but on its substitution for lack of skill. You can
certainly
be skillful
and
strong.
His chronicler, Hanko Doebringer, writing on how to
face multiple
opponents similarly instructed the best
technique (“taught by
the old masters”) was the
Eysern Pforte
(a position with
the blade in front toward the ground and
pointed off to the side).
He stated, “With this you could even
fight against four or six
farmers” (i.e., untrained men –who
presumably relied on strength).
Similarly, from Hartmann von
Aue’s 13
th
century tale,
Iwein
(based on Chrétien DeTroyes’ 12
th
century,
Yvain, Or the Knight with the Lion
), we read of a knightly
warrior’s martial craft where, “With
practice the weak man can
too learn to fight far better,
otherwise the state of swordsmanship,
as an art, may not have
achieved this level of skill. Here was
the union of skill and
strength.”
[3]
We
can recall also how the 13th century term
Preudomme
or
prudhomme
–referring to a “man of prowess”,
described the perfect knight in whom reason and bodily strength were perfectly
balanced.”
[4]
Zabinski has related how a major component
of Liechtenauer's
longsword fencing was learning the pressing
and winding
against the strong or weak portion of an opponent's
weapon as
needed for leverage so that a physically weaker man
could
overcome a stronger adversary with skill. So, again, it
was
use of strength without skill, not strength alone that was
critiqued.
A description of what Medieval people thought of the origin of knighthood and the ruling warrior class comes to us from Gutierre Diaz de Gamez’s early 15 th century biography of Pero Nino. Describing how the estate of nobles was formed, Diaz tells us that in ancient times the “people of the Law had one way, and the Gentiles another.” The Gentiles, he says, “sought out a way to choose men for war and thought to take into battle those who practiced “the mechanical arts”, such as stone cutters, carpenters, and smiths for these were men “accustomed to strike great blows, to break hard stones, to split wood with great strength to soften iron which is very hard”. They reasoned such men would “strike mightily and give hard blows” and thus would conquer their enemies. Doing this, Diaz tells us, they armed well these men and sent them into the fray where “some were stilted in their armour, and some lost their strength through fear, and some took to flight, so that all their host was brought to defeat.” Following this Diaz informs us next the patriarchs said this had been ill-planned and that rather they should have sent the butchers “who were cruel and accustomed to shedding blood without pity, men who slaughtered great bulls and strong beasts.” These they believed “would strike without mercy and without fear” and would avenge us on our adversaries. Armed well they were sent into the forefront of battle, but once there their courage failed them, and they took to flight. Then the patriarchs decided when they next went to fight they would set men upon heights to see how the battle unfolded and recognize those who fought with good heart and struck good blows and did not give in to either fear or dread of death but stood fast. Then when the battle was over they took these men and gave them great honor and thanks for their prowess. Diaz described, in conclusion, that these men were then formed into a host and bade to do no work other than to maintain thei |
