Dei vari sistemi di scherma italiana e del vero modo di muovere l'arma by Antonino Ferrante Caccamo

Among the many public critics of Radaelli's fencing system in the 19th century, you would be hard pressed to find a single one who had actual experience learning it from a qualified practitioner. Typically these critics limited themselves to commenting on the theoretical material relating to the system and their limited anecdotal evidence in support. Antonino Ferrante Caccamo's 1905 work Dei vari sistema di scherma italiana e del vero modo di muovere l'arma ('On the various systems of Italian fencing and the true method of moving the weapon') is a rare departure from this tradition in that his criticism of Radaellian fencing was in fact founded on an intimate knowledge of the system, being himself a graduate of the Milan Master's School. Below is a link to the full scans of the 50-page booklet, and what follows is a summary of the same, highlighting what I think are the more valuable and unique elements.

*** Click here for the scans *** 

Ferrante Caccamo's critique is by no means limited to Radaelli's system, as his aim with the work was to explain in detail the mechanical foundations of the dominant fencing systems in Italy at the time, which to him were: the old Neapolitan school, the Radaelli school, the Parise school, and the Masiello school. Due to Ferrante Caccamo's focus on mechanics, much of his writing is quite tedious, not at all helped by the frequent run-on sentences and sometimes confusing technical terminology. Nevertheless, throughout all this the author presents the argument that each of the extant Italian fencing systems (and some more than others) makes imperfect use of the arm's mechanics, and that only by combining the best elements of each can Italian fencing continue to progress to a state of ultimate perfection.

Despite his Radaellian origins, of all the aforementioned systems Ferrante Caccamo finds the 'old Neapolitan school' to be the most sound in its handling of weapons. The hand, he states, is the best of the three 'motors' for initiating the movement of the weapon, but it should still be accompanied with movement of the forearm whenever the hand must necessarily deviate from the line of attack. Thus Ferrante Caccamo's ideal system would have the hand as the 'primary motor' of the weapon and the forearm as the 'secondary motor'. His explanation of what this perfected system looks like goes much further than this, and a significant part of the booklet is a direct refutation of Masiello's mechanical theories in particular, but the section that I wish to highlight is his description of the mechanical systems advocated by each of the four aforementioned Italian fencing schools. The way he describes the historical development of the old Neapolitan and Radaelli systems is interesting in itself, but most interesting of all are his comments on pages 25 to 27 regarding Parise's system. Here Ferrante Caccamo echoes similar observations made by Gelli, Rizzotti, Barbasetti of how graduates from the Master's School showed consistent deviations from system as described in the official textbook, proving that the instructors hired at the school incorporated elements of Radaellian fencing in their teachings.

In 1881, with Prof. Giuseppe Redaelli dead and a competition having been announced for the appointment of a new director, the distinguished gentleman Masaniello Parise, Neapolitan master and current technical director of the Military Master's School in Rome, was selected. This appointment was a victory for the Neapolitans, and they thought that the old school, whose flaws I just noted, would once again take the upper hand. But to everyone's surprise the new director, instead of calling on followers of his own method to be his assistants, surrounded himself with the most outstanding Redaellians who, not wanting to abandon their system (already proven superior) without reason, initially submitted to his theories out of disciplinary duty and convenience.
But being unable in practice to change their habits, automatically acquired through so many years of long educational practice to the contrary, they were forced to maintain their own habits and opinions, continuing to teach their own method.
So what kind of fencing has been taught at the Rome Master's School from then until today? With the hand or with the forearm?
Some of the masters who graduated from this school called themselves Pariseists in word, but in practice they always proved themselves to belong to the method of the masters who trained them; others called and still call themselves students of this or that master at the school, but save for a few theoretical changes in the disengagement, which instead of with the forearm is prescribed with the hand, and others in the sabre guards, which instead of third or second in line is taken angled third or first, otherwise in practice everything is done according to the dictates of the Redaellian School.
It is therefore clear that, despite the appointment of Mr. Masaniello Parise in the post of director of the Master's School, the aspiration of the Neapolitans was not completely fulfilled, and the old wrist fencing was never practically implemented.

Thus despite Ferrante Caccamo's disagreements with the Radaellians and his preference for the old Neapolitan wrist-focused mechanics on a theoretical level, even he acknowledges that it was the Radaellians themselves who had brought sabre fencing to the high level of development it was in by the end of the 19th century, and this in spite of the theoretical inferiority of their method. He begins his concluding remarks with the following:

I have demonstrated in this work, putting forth every argument, that each of our three schools is defective. Yet of these, strictly speaking, the one which should have given the best results is the Neapolitan school, because by adopting the hand as the initial motor—the primary motor—it was in a position, in preference to the other two, to give attention to the economy of space, which in large part also produces [economy] of tempo and force. But for the aforementioned reasons it remained inferior, as is seen by the proof of the facts that the one which yielded the best results was instead the Redaellian School. This teaches us that, in fencing, motive power has a greater importance than economy of space, and therefore, by achieved both of them, the results of a fencing movement can be doubled.

He observations that, in comparison to the Italians, the French have near ideological unity in the fencing they taught, a unity which allowed them to reach a greater level of perfection for their national system. His final call to action could hardly have proved unpopular even among those who disagreed with his mechanical analysis: To ensure similar development and a successful future for Italian fencing, it was necessary for everyone to recognise the flaws of their respective systems and work to unite the best elements of each and create the most effective method possible.

Teaching the molinelli

When discussing the practical application of Radaelli's sabre method, I try to defer as much as possible to the texts rather than personal observations of what does and does not work in tournaments. When it comes to teaching it, however, I do feel that I have developed a good amount of advice through trial and error which others may find helpful in their own endeavours to spread this method to others. The molinelli will be my focus here, as they are the most unique and foundational aspect of the Radaelli method.

This advice is primarily intended as a resource for instructors who already have a decent grasp on Radaellian fencing, but those who are still learning may find my observations useful in their own development. The vast majority of my advice is simply a distillation or extrapolation from what is already written in the Radaellian treatises, and I encourage everyone who finds themselves having to teach these techniques to read each of the Radaellian the authors' advice on how to perform the molinelli, as you may find something useful that I did not mention here.

 

Adapting the molinelli for differing abilities

When teaching a new student, I rarely if ever begin with the full weight shifting and body leaning prescribed by Del Frate. For one thing, I have found that the physical fitness of your average beginner leads to them becoming quite fatigued after only a few minutes of doing these types of molinelli, giving them less energy for the rest of the lesson. Secondly, and more importantly, the arm movements alone can be difficult enough for many beginners to grasp without also synchronising this with the body and legs.

Performing the molinelli in the guard position with only slight or no torso movement is perfectly suitable for this early stage. If the guard position is too taxing on the legs, then simply let them assume a relaxed, upright position with heels together as per Bruno and Barbasetti. Once the student has become more confident in guiding the sabre along the proper path, slowly add in some upper body movement and demonstrate how it can make the execution of the molinelli easier and more fluid.

Sometimes students may experience some difficulty with these movements not entirely related to their physical fitness, but from issues with general coordination or proprioception. In these cases the six preliminary exercises detailed in Pecoraro and Pessina's treatise or the similar flessione exercises in section 26 of Nicolò Bruno's treatise serve as a gentle introduction to Radaellian blade carriage. These basic exercises are also very useful when having to instruct a group of people, as they are easy to demonstrate and few corrections are typically needed.

General advice

Before they start swinging the sabre, a student should have a good understanding of how to grip it correctly (in a Radaellian sense). Throughout these exercises, keep an eye on the student's hand to ensure that the thumb does not bend, that it stays pressed on the back of the grip, and that the hypothenar eminence remains on top instead of sitting alongside the grip. The thumb alone may slide very slightly up and down the grip in order to bring the blade more or less in line with the forearm, but this should not be exaggerated.

In general, when performing the molinelli for the first time, people have a tendency not to lift their elbow high enough. I tell students to aim with the elbow. If they are trying to hit the opponent's head, then after the arm is bent the elbow should be pointed at the opponent's head at head height, because when the arm is extended this is precisely the direction the forearm (and sabre) will end up in.

Fluid movement between each position in an exercise molinello is hindered when the arm is tensed. The easiest way to check if the student is tensing their arm too much is to look at their shoulder after the final movement as their arm lies extended. A raised shoulder indicates a tense arm and an unnecessary focus on 'hitting' with the sabre. Emphasise instead that final movement consists of extending the arm forward rather than hitting or chopping with the sabre. Fluidity takes precedence over speed and force.

Molinello to the head from the left

The overall motion of this molinello from beginning to end should be conceived as a circle confined entirely to the vertical plane. Many errors in this molinello's execution stem from the blade deviating from this vertical plane, which is what the Radaellians are referring to when they use the term 'oscillation'. You can easily tell whether the student's final movement is vertical or not by where it lands on the opponent's mask. If their sabre inconsistently lands on top of the opponent's mask, sometimes hitting the side of the mask or even shoulder, then oscillation is occurring and they are deviating from the vertical plane.

To remedy this, the student should imagine their arm and blade hugging the body as closely as possible right up until extension. The blade should almost skim the rear leg as it comes back, and the forearm should brush past the top of their head (making sure they do not hit themselves with the guard as the sabre comes forward, of course). Exaggerating this motion of the arm hugging the body can be useful to convey the general aim.

Turning the edge up prior to moving the sabre (i.e. the first movement of the molinello as per Del Frate) is the most important part of the molinello, as the success of the following motion relies on it. Even when the molinello's movements are combined into a fluid, single action, emphasise the necessity of turning the edge first. At the end of the molinello, ensure that the arm does not swing through the target, but comes to rest fully extended in front at shoulder height. It is not important at this stage how hard the student is hitting; it is much more important that they maintain control of the sabre and pass through each position correctly.

Molinello to the head from the right

The same advice given for the previous molinello applies here, noting in particular again that the path of the sabre sabre should be as vertical as possible. Rotating the arm so that the palm faces up before beginning the molinello is vital to ensuring that the rest of the action is performed correctly. From here, observe that the student lifts the elbow up and across the body, and the hand will naturally follow. If the student is observed letting go of the grip with one or more fingers, then this is an indication that the elbow is not being lifted up high enough. Profiling the torso as much as possible during this movement also allows a greater range of motion in the shoulder. Note how high the elbow is in the Del Frate illustration below.

Molinello to the face from the left

Unlike the previous two molinelli, those to the face are semi-circular. The point of the sabre does not follow a circular path in a single plane from beginning to end, rather it is only in the final extension that the sabre stays in the horizontal plane.

While Del Frate describes bringing the sabre back into a vertical position prior to extension, I have found the position advocated for by Masiello, Barbasetti, and Pecoraro/Pessina to be convenient when teaching, as it makes the final movement a simple extension of the arm. In this way it is easier to ensure that the sabre extends only horizontally without any oscillation. Focusing on making a complete circle from the beginning will cause the blade to oscillate during extension, as the first and second half of the movement take place on different planes.

Note that if teaching the molinelli to the face with forward body lean or with a lunge, the student will end up lower relative to their opponent's head than in if they were in the guard position, so they will have to compensate for this by cutting slightly diagonally up in order to still hit the opponent's face.

Molinello to the face from the right

What was stated for the previous molinello applies here, but with additional factors to consider. Firstly, like with the molinello to the head from the right, emphasise to the student that they should focus on lifting the elbow when they bring the sabre back, rather than focusing only on the hand. It is better for the elbow to be at eye height in this position rather than below the shoulder. Keeping the elbow high facilitates correct direction along the horizontal plane.

Extending from this position requires a twisting motion from both the arm and upper body. Tell the student to push their elbow across the body (i.e. to the left if they are right-handed) and to twist the torso. By doing so, the hand will naturally be thrown forward, at which point it is simply a matter of extending the arm to complete the molinello. I again emphasise that the arm does not swing forward, but extends. It is the tip of the blade that follows the semi-circular path, not the hand, which should instead travel more or less straight forward, in line with the shoulder.

A tendency students have is to twist the hand as it extends. Ensure that when the arm is moved back the edge is directed to the outside, and remains in this orientation during the entirely of extension. One analogy I use is for the student to imagine that they are carrying a tray of drinks in their hand: they must to reach out and hand the tray to you without letting any of the drinks tip over.  

While the student's upper body should twist to assist the motion of the arm, ensure that their knees remain fixed in the direction of the toes. If they develop a habit of twisting both the upper and lower body simultaneously, then they will find it difficult to combine this molinello with a lunge later on.

 

Rising molinello from the left

I rarely find students struggle with this molinello after having learnt the others, but it is still worth emphasising that the path of the blade should be as vertical as possible when extending. The more vertical the plane the blade follows, the harder it is for the opponent to parry. Tell the student to make the blade travel as closely to the body as possible in order to achieve this angle. Rotational movement of the torso movement in this molinello is detrimental, and should be discouraged.

Rising molinello from the right

Successful execution of the the molinello to the face from the right is an absolute necessity before progressing to the rising molinello. The execution of these two molinelli has a great deal in common, so it would only serve to demoralise the student to have them attempt this molinello before they have wrapped their head around the horizontal one. The main difference for the rising molinello is the need to direct the sabre in a rising diagonal or near-vertical plane. This is achieved in two ways:

1. After carrying the sabre back horizontally alongside the head as in the molinello to the face from the right, the student simply relaxes the wrist and lets the point drop, with the blade hanging almost vertically alongside their back;
2. The student bends at the waist to further put the sabre in a vertical position.

From there, the student simply has to extend the hand straight forward at shoulder height, as in the molinello to the face from the right. At this point I often refer to Rossi's description of the molinello, in which he states that by keeping the hand sufficiently high as the blade travels forward, the arm and blade will pass through a position very similar to parry of 7th. It can therefore be helpful to point out to the student that the movement for this molinello is essentially the same as the molinello the head from the right, but in reverse. Performing these two molinelli repeatedly in succession (i.e. to the head, rising, to the head, rising, and so on) can help to accustom the student to the way that the shoulder and elbow must work together to allow the sabre to stay in the vertical plane.

The student can also imagine the sabre describing a vertical circle through the air purely through its own weight. Their hand simply holds on to the sabre as it moves and their body moves out of its way.

Depending on the student's body and flexibility, they may or may not be able to achieve a near-vertical rising molinello from the right even with constant practice. This is not an issue. If a student has limited arm movement such that they cannot perform a rising cut on this side, then switching to a horizontal molinello aimed at the abdomen is a perfectly adequate substitute that even some Radaellians preferred to do (see Masiello and Barbasetti).

 

Lo Sport Illustrato

To understand how fencing theorists thought about and systematised their theories of fencing, ample material can be found in the form of fencing treatises; to best understand how this theory was put into practice, however, it is imperative to look beyond the treatises and examine contemporaneous observations and discussions from the broader fencing public. This is where newspapers, but especially specialist sporting periodicals, become invaluable. In contrast to treatises, most of which can be found among the shelves of a typical antique book store in Europe, individual copies of these periodicals are rarer on the antique market, let alone as complete sets of a year or more.

I am fortunate, therefore, to have been able to acquire two (almost) complete years of Lo Sport Illustrato, one of the first and most widely-read general sporting magazines in Italy for over 30 years, beginning weekly circulation in 1881 and ending in 1915 when Italy entered the First World War. In its earlier years of publication, the Milanese magazine mostly devoted its columns to hunting and horse racing, but by 1890 it had become established enough to attract contributions from various known figures in the Italian fencing community. The two volumes in my collection are complete sets of the years 1888 and 1891 except for a single issue in the latter year, missing no. 482 (26 November). Due to the large number of pages of both volumes, I have limited my scans (for now at least) to only the pages with fencing-related content as well as the front pages of the respective issue.

Selected 1888 issues  |  Selected 1891 issues

These two hefty volumes (weighing over 2.5 kg each) were evidently purchased and bound by the Rowing-Club Italiano, which was founded at Turin in 1888 and eventually became the national governing body for the sport of rowing in Italy.

Besides being a trailblazer for sporting magazines in Italy, Lo Sport Illustrato was also of a very high production quality for the time. Each issue included one or more large illustrations, sometimes full-page and very rarely in colour spread across two pages, showing scenes from sporting life or nature. The large page format (roughly 27 x 36 cm) of the magazine makes these illustrations all the more striking when viewed in person, but I hope some of the photos provided in this article give a sufficient impression. In the two volumes I posses, the only illustrations related to fencing consist of a three-part cartoon satirising contemporary duelling culture (see issue numbers 442 and 449 of the 1891 volume).

As for the articles, the 1888 volume contains only 8 issues with fencing content, all but one being reports on fencing exhibitions, while the 1891 volume contains fencing content in nearly every issue for that year. Sporting magazines in general experienced a great surge in popularity in Italy starting in the early 1890s, and this was no less the case for fencing, which may have motivated Lo Sport Illustrato to set aside more space for the flourishing sport. Frequent fencing contributors to the magazine in 1891 are the retired master Giuseppe Perez, whom we have previously seen condemning Radallian foil fencing in the 1870s, and amateurs Giulio Franceschi (writing under the pseudonym 'Bottone') and Giuseppe Nini (pseudonym 'Ras').

The 3 September issue contains Ferdinando Masiello's response to the constructive criticism of his work published by the jury of the national tournament in Bologna earlier that year. To Masiello's response (entitled 'Due lettere intorno alle opere di Ferdinando Masiello' and also published separately as a booklet), Carlo Pilla and Salvatore Arista give a counter-reply in the 12 November issue in their capacities as jury members at that tournament. This discussion provides a helpful reminder that divergences of opinion existed even within the Radaellian camp, however minor. It is quite possible that discussions such as these regarding Masiello's work prompted some of the modifications he introduced in subsequent editions of his treatise.

Containing a healthy mix of event coverage and theoretical pondering, these issues of Lo Sport Illustrato give a good demonstration of the variety of written material that was becoming increasingly more available for Italian fencers in the late 19th century, and place the fencing treatises of this time into a broader and active literary context.

Fencing masters in the Italian military

A common misconception regarding the instruction of fencing in the 19th century is that there were easily identifiable military and civilian methods or styles of fencing, and that masters generally specialised in one of these two contexts. Furthering this confusion, especially in the case of Italy, is the fact that the press often made a point of noting whether someone taught within the military or in a civilian club. In reality, however, fencing itself was a discipline that faced little to no regulation within any of the pre-unification Italian states, and the chronic shortage of fencing masters within the military led to regiments frequently turning to civilian masters to fulfil their training obligations. The military-civilian distinction was not one of fencing methodology, but one of employment first and foremost. Focusing on the post-1874 era following the consolidation of the Milan Fencing Master's School, the military-civilian distinction becomes yet more confusing for modern readers, as the Ministry of War not only became the sole arbiter of who could be a 'military master', but it also created a role within the military's institutions for 'civil masters', who were not simply those employed from outside the Master's School pipeline. In this article I will outline how the profession of fencing master was regulated within the Italian military and explain the different roles it created, thereby hopefully alleviating some of the confusion on this topic.

As stated above, prior to the foundation of the military fencing master's schools in 1868 and 1869 there was no official national body in Italy which regulated the use of the title of 'fencing master'. While the National Academy of Fencing in Naples had existed since 1861, there is little evidence to suggest that it had much sway outside of Naples until beginning of the 20th century. The National Academy of Fencing did gain some level of national recognition in November 1880 when a royal decree by Umberto I declared it a 'moral body' (essentially an incorporated association), but in practice even this did not allow the masters it certified to teach in the corps and institutions of the military.¹

A proper discussion of how fencing masters were certified prior to the foundation of the Military Fencing Master's Schools is worthy of its own article, but for now it will suffice to say that civilian certification traditionally served as a method of peer recognition. According to Alberto Marchionni, who was writing in the 1840s, the process that had been common since the beginning of the 19th century was for a candidate to be endorsed by at least three fencing masters, who were given a demonstration of the candidate's ability to give lessons, of their theoretical knowledge, and of their practical ability in bouting.² Fencing masters who were certified in this manner were often employed in regiments or military institutions where such instruction was not already being provided by military staff.

Many of examples of this can be provided, but the most obvious is the case of Giuseppe Radaelli, who accompanied the Monferrato cavalry regiment, as a civilian, in its various postings around Italy during the 1860s and regularly taught fencing to members of said regiment.³ Recognising both the need to increase the quality of fencing instruction in its corps and address the lack of competent fencing instructors available to them, the Ministry of War generalised this arrangement in 1867: corps commanders of the infantry and cavalry were permitted to hire a civilian fencing master for three to four months of the year, with a salary of no more 80 lire a month, who would be tasked with training one or two fencing instructors to replace them by the end of their employment period.⁴

If this was intended to be anything more than a stop-gap measure, it was clearly insufficient, as just over a year later the ministry announced the 'special fencing courses' which gave birth to the Military Fencing Master's Schools in Parma and Modena in 1868 and Milan in early 1869.⁵ The first graduates were referred to as maestri militari di scherma di punta e sciabola (literally 'military fencing masters of the point and sabre'), with there also being the provision for the rank of 'sub-master' (sotto-maestro), which may have been intended for fresh graduates. Promotion from sub-master to master could take place after five years of continuous service with good conduct. Initially all ranks of sottufficiali or non-commissioned officers (NCOs) could be accepted into these courses, but beginning in 1874 candidates could only be sergeants, and this remained the norm for the rest of the institution's existence.

Following the first experimental 9-month course, only the Parma and Milan schools were kept in operation, the former under the direction of Cesare Enrichetti and the latter under Giuseppe Radaelli, and by the end of 1874 only Radaelli's school remained. By this point the Ministry of War was seemingly quite satisfied with this institution becoming the sole regulator of fencing in the army, and the only fencing masters who had not been trained at either Enrichetti or Radaelli's school to continue in their positions going forward were those employed at military schools and academies. The 1874 ministerial acts outlining the responsibilities of the Master's School now made an explicit distinction between those who taught fencing in the military as soldiers and those who taught in the military as civilian employees. Those in the former category henceforth bore the title 'fencing instructor' (istruttore di scherma), a title also given to all former and future Master's School graduates. Those employed as civilians were given the title of 'civil fencing master' (maestro di scherma civile), while the 'sub-master' role was to be discontinued.⁶ The only people to bear the sub-master title from this point were the three civilian fencing masters employed at the Modena Military School, who had all been teaching there since 1860s, and two of whom were eventually appointed as proper civil fencing masters.⁷ Despite the fact that an NCO who was qualified to teach fencing the bore the official title of 'instructor', in the public press they were still often referred to as fencing masters, as 'master' was and is the typical title given in Italy to those who teach. For the sake of clarity, however, from here on I will only refer to these enlisted NCO fencing masters as 'instructors' or 'military instructors', while the term 'civil master' will be reserved for civilian employees of the military.

Military instructors were first and foremost non-commissioned officers, starting at the rank of sergeant, and they were still expected to fulfil the roles expected of an enlisted soldier. Upon graduating from the Master's School, by default they were assigned to a specific military regiment, where they continued to carry out the regular duties of a sergeant whenever their services are not required in the fencing hall. To distinguish themselves from other NCOs, fencing instructors and those training to become one wore a special patch on their right arm, which was embroidered in red woollen thread for student fencing instructors and silver thread for qualified instructors.⁸ Below on the left we see this patch on a young Carlo Pessina, possibly taken while he was a student at the Milan Master's School, and on the right is a close-up of the official design.

Due to the fencing instructor's increased responsibility within the regiment, they received a daily bonus of 0.60 lire, so long as they were with the regiment and not on leave or subject to disciplinary confinement. The daily wage for a sergeant in 1874 ranged from 1.68 lire to 1.81 lire, depending on whether they served in the infantry, cavalry, artillery, etc. The bonus received for being a fencing instructor at this time was therefore an effective pay increase of between 33 and 36%. If they remained in active service for five years after becoming a fencing instructor their daily bonus increased to 1.00 lire. But aside from this one-off increase, instructors had few prospects of progression within that role. After two promotions (which took 10 years) they would be at the highest non-commissioned rank possible, furiere maggiore (roughly equivalent to quartermaster), meaning that the only options for further promotion were to become a commissioned officer and thus abandon their role as a fencing instructor. A lucky few instructors would also occasionally be called to assist at the Master's School, for which beginning in 1886 they received a daily bonus of 1.65 lire instead of the usual 0.60 or 1.00 lire bonus, but this was rarely more than a short-term appointment.⁹

Civil masters, by contrast, enjoyed a much more stable and financially rewarding lifestyle. They were no longer enlisted soldiers, but rather fencing masters employed as civilians exclusively within what the Italian government referred to as 'civil institutions', consisting of the various military colleges, academies, and schools located throughout the country, including the Master's School. Depending on the specific institution, civilian employees could make up the majority of its administration and teaching staff, which also included civil fencing masters. As mentioned above for the Master's School, a small number of military instructors were also assigned to these military institutions as assistants, subordinate to the civil masters, but rarely more than two or three per institution, who tended to cycle out with the regular garrison changes. Even for several years after the foundation and consolidation of the singular Fencing Master's School in Milan, those who had not been certified by it continued to be employed by some civil institutions; however, as the existing positions became vacant and the institutions expanded, only currently-enlisted graduates of the Military Master's Schools filled those positions. Thus despite what the title may suggest, by the mid-1870s the civil master position was no longer an opportunity for regular civilians to gain employment teaching fencing in the military, because the only people qualified to fill that position were trained by and serving in the military.

Almost no details on the civil master examination process is known prior to the school's transfer to Rome in 1884. The 1874 act simply states that civil master promotions would be carried out by 'special competition' at the Milan school, in which candidates had to demonstrate their knowledge of Radaelli's fencing method and 'to which only instructors and (civil) sub-masters may be admitted who are considered worthy through their conduct, zeal, and service seniority.'¹⁰ The first time any details are provided on the assessment process for civil masters is in 1888, when the Ministry of War announced what was presumably the first civil master 'competition exam' to be held since the transfer of the Master's School to Rome.¹¹ The method of assessment detailed in these regulations bear a remarkable resemblance to the method outlined by Marchionni 40 years prior, suggesting that the process used at the Master's School was largely a formalisation of what was commonplace in civilian circles. The competition exam, which was open only to those who had been NCOs for at least eight years, consisted of separate 'theoretical-practical' and practical tests for foil and sabre, giving a total of four components to the assessment process. This was also the same examination process used for assessing students of the Master's School, so the civil master candidates would have been very familiar with this process already.

The theoretical-practical component involved the chairperson of the examination committee randomly drawing three 'theses' (perhaps a specific topic or technique) taken from the fencing curriculum, and then asking the candidate questions about one or more of these topics. The candidate had to give both a theoretical response to the topic as well as give a practical demonstration of how to teach these concepts to a student, with the current students at the Master's School acting in the latter role. Each of these theoretical-practical tests would last roughly 30 minutes. The practical test component simply required a candidate to bout with other candidates, in randomly assigned pairs, for however long the committee deemed necessary. By 1897 the examination process also included a theoretical-practical assessment on refereeing bouts, and later when the scope of the school was expanded in 1909 to include general physical education as part of the curriculum, the civil master exam also expanded to include this new material.¹²

At the end of the assessment the committee, which consisted of five members, gave a yes or no vote as to whether or not the candidate was suitable in each of the assessment areas. If the answer for all of them was yes, then each committee member would assign a score of between 1 and 20 to each assessment area. The average of these four scores across the committee gave the final score for each candidate, and thus a ranking of all candidates could be made. If a candidate received a score lower than 14, they were considered unsatisfactory and excluded from applying for the position again. While this alone suggests that taking part in the competition was a significant risk for those with less experience, even getting a score higher than 14 did not guarantee a promotion. Promotions were only awarded as civil master vacancies arose, with the highest ranking candidate receiving the first vacant position, the second-highest filling the next vacancy, and so on. If not enough vacancies emerged within that two-year period to allow a candidate to be promoted, then that person had missed their opportunity and was obliged to undergo the examination all over again. Not only that, but if they again failed to receive a promotion within the two years after their second attempt, they were forbidden from ever applying for the position again.

If a candidate did manage to overcome all these obstacles and be awarded a promotion to civil master, they would be appointed to a military institution and given a fixed yearly salary, instead of the daily wage and bonus given to an instructor. In the 1870s and the first half of the 1880s successful candidates started off as a '3rd class civil fencing master' with a generous salary of 2,000 lire.¹³ Beginning in 1892, however, new civil masters were given the lower position of '1st class assistant master' and a salary of 1,500 lire. After two years of good service they could then be promoted to 3rd class civil master, and then over the course of roughly 20 years' continuous service they would be gradually promoted up to 2nd and then 1st class civil master, receiving an additional 500 lire to their salary with each promotion. The few lucky masters who were chosen to teach at the Master's School received additional pay on top of their regular salary: civil masters of any rank received an additional 1,200 lire per year, while the vice-directors of the school received an additional 1,800 lire. The technical director of the Master's School, which from 1884 to 1910 was of course Masaniello Parise, received a handsome annual salary of 5,000 lire.¹⁴

After the first four civil master appointments were made in 1875—awarded to members of the Radaellian old guard Paolo Cornaglia, Giovanni Domenico Reverso, Giovanni Monti, and Giuseppe Ronga—the number of civil masters in the army reached 13 by the end of 1878, where it stayed for several years before rising steadily from 1883 to reach 36 civil masters in 1889.¹⁵ This appears to have been the ideal amount for the Ministry of War, as the number of civil masters under its employ hovered closely around this number right up until the outbreak of the First World War. With over five times as many military instructors as civil masters employed by the army at any given time—a study from 1893 counted a total of 188 military instructors—it is understandable that the competition for these positions would be fierce.¹⁶ Between 1875 and 1910 only 70 such civil master promotions were awarded, as those who managed to get into the role tended to keep it until they either retired or died. With anywhere between 10 and 30 military instructors graduating from the Master's School each year during this period, it is clear that the attrition rate was much higher for instructors than for civil masters.

Aside from the obvious pay benefits afforded to civil masters, achieving this promotion meant that one was no longer bound to a rigid military lifestyle. Civil masters were able to settle for long periods in a single city, as military institutions rarely changed location post-1880, and they were also free to give lessons outside of regular working hours, providing them with an additional source of income as well as access to considerable social capital through the typical clientele of a civilian fencing club—journalists, politicians, wealthy businessmen, and various other members of Italian bourgeois society. For those not lucky enough to become a civil master, there was one alternative that became increasingly popular from the mid-1890s. As the demand for Italian fencing masters grew in Europe during the 1890s, it became possible for many instructors to forgo the civil master exams and seek their fortune outside of the military. Thus we see that many of the Italian masters who became internationally famous at the turn of the century, such as Luigi Barbasetti, Italo Santelli, Antonio Conte, and Arturo Gazzera, were those who left the army when they were merely instructors.

The Master's School did indeed establish a monopoly on the certification of fencing masters for the army in the 1870s, but in the civilian world many masters continued to find alternative routes to certification through the traditional peer endorsement method or at the National Academy of Fencing in Naples. However, the high attrition rate of military instructors—which I contend was in large part a result of the high barrier for receiving a civil master promotion—meant that, through the Master's School, the regulatory decisions made by the Ministry of War also had huge repercussions for the civilian scene. This increasingly became the case internationally too, which was made evident in the disproportionate influence Italian military masters had during the 1890s and the first decades of the 20th century. Thus by understanding what the life of a fencing master in the Italian military was like at the end of the 19th century, we can gain significant insight into the pressures they likely felt when it came to deciding on how to progress in their chosen profession.

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1 Scans of this royal decree and the 1880 statue for the National Academy of Naples are available here.^↩
2 Alberto Marchionni, Trattato di scherma sopra un nuovo sistema di giuoco misto di scuola italiana e francese (Florence: Federigo Bencini, 1847), 205.^↩
3 Jacopo Gelli, Bibliografia generale della scherma con note critiche, biografiche e storiche (Florence: L. Niccolai, 1890), 67–68.^↩
4 Ministero della Guerra, 'Scuola di scherma per tutti i Corpi di fanteria che di cavalleria,' Giornale militare ossia raccolta ufficiale delle leggi, regolamenti e disposizioni al servizio ed all'amministrazione militare, no. 48 (1867): 560–561.^↩
5 Ministero della Guerra, 'Corsi speciali di scherma di punta e sciabola pei sott'uffiziali delle Armi di linea,' Giornale militare ossia raccolta ufficiale delle leggi, regolamenti e disposizioni al servizio ed all'amministrazione militare, no. 44 (1868): 422–424; Ministero della Guerra, 'Corso speciale sul maneggio e sulla scherma di sciabola presso il reggimento cavalleggeri di Monferrato,' Giornale militare ossia raccolta ufficiale delle leggi, regolamenti e disposizioni al servizio ed all'amministrazione militare, no. 55 (1868): 566–567.^↩
6 Cesare Ricotti-Magnani, 'Atto N. 249. - ORDINAMENTO DELL'ESERCITO (Nota N. 29). - Istruttori e maestri di scherma per l'Esercito - 4 dicembre,' Giornale Militare 1874: parte prima, no. 44 (11 December 1874): 489–492.^↩
7 The three masters in question were Antonio Tinti, Alessandro Pavia, and Regolo Luppi.See Annuario Militare del Regno d'Italia 1876 (Rome: Carlo Voghera, 1876), 301.^↩
8 Gustavo Mazè de la Roche, 'N. 104. - DIVISA E VESTIARIO (Nota N. 189). - Distintivo speciale per gli istruttori, sotto istruttori ed allievi di scherma. - 3 luglio,' Giornale Militare 1879: parte prima, no. 28 (4 July 1879): 415–416.^↩
9 Cesare Ricotti-Magnani, 'N. 51. - STIPENDI, ASSEGNI ED INDENNITÀ. - Legge 15 aprile 1886 N. 3813 (serie 3a) portante modificazioni alla legge sugli stipendi ed assgni fissi per il R. Esercito. - 15 aprile,' Giornale Militare 1886: parte prima, no. 13 (6 May 1886): 86–91. An exceptional example of long-term appointment is seen in the career of Luigi Barbasetti, who spent six consecutive years teaching at the Master's School while only a military instructor.^↩
10 Cesare Ricotti-Magnani. 'Atto N. 249. - ORDINAMENTO DELL'ESERCITO (Nota N. 29). - Istruttori e maestri di scherma per l'Esercito - 4 dicembre,' Giornale Militare 1874: parte prima, no. 44 (11 December 1874): 491–492.^↩
11 Giovanni Corvetto, 'N. 129. - Norme per l'esame di concorso alla nomina a maestro civile di scherma - (Segretariato generale). - 22 agosto,' Giornale Militare 1888: parte seconda, no. 40 (25 August 1888): 496–498.^↩
12 Ministero della Guerra, Regolamento per la scuola magistrale di scherma (5 maggio 1897) (Rome: Voghera Enrico, 1897), 19; Collezione celerifera delle leggi e decreti, 20 September 1911, 1140–1141.^↩
13 See the appointments of Ferdinando Masiello, Giovanni Vecchia, and Giuseppe Blandini in Ministero della Guerra, Bollettino uificiale delle nomine, promozioni e destinazioni negli ufficiali dell'esercito italiano e nel personale dell'amministrazione militare 1877 (Rome: Carlo Voghera, 1877), 227.^↩
14 Ettore Bertolè-Viale, 'Atto N. 200. - STIPENDI, ASSEGNI ED INDENNITA'. - R. Decreto 4919 (serie 3a) che approva il Testo unico delle leggi sugli stipendi ed assegni fissi pel regio esercito - 27 agosto,' Giornale Militare 1887: parte prima, no. 49 (22 September 1887): 659–680; Ettore Bertolè-Viale, 'Atto N. 81. - AMMINISTRAZIONE CENTRALE ED IMPIEGATI CIVILI. - SCUOLE MILITARI. - Relazione a S. M .il Re e R. Decreto n. 141, che stabilisce le norme per la nomina, l'avanzamento e gli obblighi di servizio del personale insegnante civile nelle scuole e nei collegi militari. - 29 marzo,' Giornale Militare 1900: parte prima, no. 17 (28 April 1900): 309–329.^↩
15 A list of civil fencing masters employed in a given year was published in the military annual, the Annuario Militare del Regno d'Italia.^↩
16 Luigi Moschetti, 'La scherma nell'esercito,' Scherma Italiana, 1 September 1896, 38–39.^↩

From Benevento to Naples (Part 3)

The third and final part of our fencing tour of Naples features many of the people introduced in part two, with the additions of notable Neapolitan journalists Vittorio Argento and Enrico Casella, some of whose articles I have translated for this blog in the past.

In addition to Ferruccio's observation of the large number of beggars in the streets of Naples, the last portion of the article in particular, while unrelated to fencing, serves as a poignant reminder of the great economic disparity between the northern and southern parts of Italy which still lingers today.

It also demonstrates the highly skewed perspective offered by sporting magazines like the Gazzetta dello Sport. Ferruccio and his fencing friends were undoubtedly all very wealthy men, with time for leisure and the means to travel wherever they liked, at a whim, to attend exclusive sporting clubs and social events. Not only that, but at the beginning of the 1910s literacy rates in many parts of Southern Italy were still under 50%, especially so for women, making the audience for articles such as these a very select portion of Italy's population.¹

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From Benevento to Naples

III.

A great idea; before returning to Benevento, where my affairs and bills are calling me, I thought it would be good, in order to make your Gazzetta dello Sport more well-known and popular, to penetrate various fencing halls not only as your Benevento correspondent, but as a man of arms for your newspaper, and with that said, I pulled from my trunk a fencing jacket, canvas pants, and my little 'service' sword, which had been sleeping peacefully for months and months.

You can easily understand how excellent a result this decision of mine has yielded if you consider that I made sure it was very clear that the armiger of the Gazzetta dello Sport would only cross blades with gentlemen of the 'Order of Subscribers'.

Once this decision was made, it goes without saying that I had to work like a dog. Incidentally, I do not know why people use this expression when dogs are known for spending the whole day…lounging about.

It was Maestro Galimi Lacaria, whom I believe I spoke to you about in my previous correspondences, who first obliged me with a sword bout in Cerchione's hall.

Galimi is a clean, elegant, and very correct fencer: a gentleman fencer.

Felice Galimi Lacaria, c. 1913.
Source: byterfly.eu

Then I 'went at it' with Maestro De Simone, whom I can assert with complete certainty has become much stronger than he was years ago at the Mantua tournament, and then again with Captain Pinelli who, like a good wine when bottled, improves with age.

I had a sabre bout with Marquis Mastelloni, a fencer with a good eye and a firm parry, and endured a sword bout with Mr. Vittorio Argento, fencing editor of Napoli-Sport.

'Press versus press,' I said as I came on guard.

Vittorio Argento, an excellent writer on fencing matters, from his ever-sound judgement and that competence which his eyes exude, as evident as the nose of Cyrano de Bergerac, he is also a fencer of uncommon strength, from his wide, flying, and somewhat irregular game, perhaps carried out more by intuition and personal conviction than by an assimilation of lessons, but enough to bewilder even the oldest sly foxes of the piste. With the utmost ease he touches and takes the blade from any position, and I assure you that once he has launched into action, his final thrust or remise rarely misses.

I freely admit that even my 'metal grinders', as your man Weysi called them when I was in Milan, had little effect with him; but I was nevertheless very pleased to have pitted myself against this opponent, because I have always liked when those who usually wield a pen when discussing matters of fencing can also wield a sword and a sabre.

For the record: recently in one of Greco's exhibitions, the closing sabre bout was reserved for him and Argento. Greco, who can serve as wonderful touchstone between the various opponents who are pitted against him, was still Greco, naturally, and there would be no reason for a parallel between him and the opponent; but I was told that Vittorio Argento had an 'edge' which many other fencers must have envied.

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To cut it short, I endured seven long bouts in less than three days, with different opponents, in various halls, and I can tell you that, for me, who for a long time has found himself in an auxiliary position, they were Herculean tasks.

I cannot claim that your Benevento correspondent left too good an impression as a fencer. Certainly if my place had been taken by Weysi, Balossi, Galbiati, Tiboldi, Carabelli, Mossotti,² or someone else, things would have gone better; but on this sublunar planet you have to know how to be satisfied or resign yourself, and even the most beautiful girl on earth cannot give more than she has.

When it was the seventh day of my sojourn in Naples, I felt the need to rest, just like good Lord felt many years ago...in the time of the world's creation, so I went wandering here and there through this vast and noisy metropolis, which would be so beautiful if not for the plague of three thousand carriages and their coachmen, as bothersome and insistent as flies and as arrogant as the genuine professional beggars here who, in numbers ten times greater than the coachmen, scour every road, every street corner, every café, every theatre, day and night, at all hours.

So it was that, while idling about with Maestro Cerchione, I had the pleasure to again see Edoardo Casella, a distinguished amateur foilist, whom I had seen at the Palermo tournament—and so it was that, while idling about, I had the pleasure to be introduced for the first time to his brother,

Source: gallica.fr

Enrico Casella.

Enrico Casella—very well-known for his sporting articles and for organising Le Figaro's first tournament in Paris—was with Miceli, the Baron of San Giuseppe, Baron Anzani, Dusmet, and other very talented amateurs of the Neapolitan fencing tradition, whose flag he held high for many years, with the pen and the sword, in the French capital, where he took up permanent residence.

Enrico Casella, who was in Naples for just a few days, is the one who recently played a very important and likeable role in the Dreyfus affair.

Tall, elegant, a speaker endowed with a wholly Southern accent and wholly Parisian wit, he is the model sportsman in the loosest sense of the word.

After Cerchione introduced me—and I told him that I was your correspondent—Enrico Casella was drawn by me to talk about fencing and sport in general, and his words flowed as easily and rapidly as water from a swollen creek, and in less than half an hour he was rattling on—lucidly—about so many sport-related projects that, if it had been possible for me to record them on a dictaphone, I would have no difficulty sending you at least a dozen excellent articles for the various columns of the Gazzetta dello Sport.

But there was one thing that I aimed to do when talking with Enrico Casella, and it was to encourage him to send me some of his writings, from Paris, for your newspaper—in short, to make him one of your correspondents; and, God willing, when I left him I took with me an almost formal promise.

Are you pleased with my work, or will you dare ask for more and better?

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When I had achieved this unexpected success, I 'turned my prow' towards Benevento; but to have a little bit of fun and rest my eyes in the still dense greenery of these lands blessed by nature but not by the farmers—who barely feel the sting of progress and who still break up dirt clods with the plow of Virgil—I thought to follow the road through Cancello, Arienzo, Montesarchio, Benevento, as picturesque as any other.

The journey from Naples to Cancello is half an hour by train; then a one-horse carriage, which in less than half an hour leads to Arienzo, where you leave the carriage for a prehistoric stagecoach with two horses as thin as temporary government employees, with which you bounce along directly to Benevento.

While in Arienzo, a pleasant, pretty, and modern town of over 4,000 inhabitants, as the carriage was being sheltered in the depot and the stagecoach horses were prepared and harnessed with that slowness which these regions are typically known for, I thought of going to get a cup of coffee.

And on seeing in the piazza a shop bearing the heavy sign 'Café del Genio'³, I headed there, looking forward to the delight of my mocha or my Puerto Rican coffee, at the owner's pleasure.

But the single hall, which served both as an entrance and the rest of it, I found deserted. And do you want to know what furniture adorned it? A double bed with a red quilt covered in stains; a rickety kitchen table; in one corner, a brick fireplace with two burners and above this, hanging on nails, three frying pans, a skimmer, and a coppino (a ladle); against the wall in front of the bed, a large maple cupboard which the flies had slowly but surely varnished with small, shiny black dots; on the ground, a small tub of water; next to the bed, a chest of drawers, with exquisite wood perforations owing to the brilliant nocturnal work of a friendly woodworm; four chairs dangling from the walls like four hanged men; six chickens pecking around and under the bed, where towered a vase as large as Pandora's, but which certainly wasn't the real one—and nothing else.

As soon as I had entered, I unhooked one of the four chairs from the gallows and sat down comfortably, waiting for the owners, taking these notes undisturbed to kill time. After a good quarter of an hour I thought of going to take a seat in the stagecoach and, still undisturbed, I headed off.

However, when I was almost halfway across the piazza a dark-haired young lady, with her bulging breast 'to the wind'⁴ and in her arm a rosy young baby angrily gnawing at the breast, explained to me that coffee could be served to me at the opposite side of the piazza, there, behind a door with the word 'Club' written on it.

I set forth; I knocked with my hands and my feet three times; I waited five minutes—nobody came to open it, and I started thinking that maybe in Arienzo coffee is a luxury that is only displayed on signs.

What sacrifices the work of a correspondent demands!

And to think there are those who dare suggest that this wage is stolen!

Ferruccio.

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1 Gabriele Cappelli and Michelango Vasta, 'A "Silent Revolution": school reforms and Italy's educational gender gap in the Liberal Age (1861-1921),' Cliometrica 15 (2021): 203–229, https://doi.org/10.1007/s11698-020-00201-6.^↩
2 All prominent amateur fencers in the Milanese scene.^↩
3 The word genio can refer to both a genius or an engineers corps in the military.^↩
4 A pun on the word poppa, which can mean both a human breast or the stern of a ship.^↩

From Benevento to Naples (Part 2)

In this second part of our tour through the fencing halls of Naples, we are given a peek inside the storied halls of the Grand National Academy of Fencing, a title which, while still mostly aspirational in this period, does nevertheless reflect its centrality in the Neapolitan scene. We are also introduced to a young Edoardo De Simone, a loyal adherent to Parise's method who would later spend several years as an instructor at the Military Fencing Master's School in Rome.

At the end of the article the enthusiastic sporting activity of the 10th Bersaglieri regiment is contrasted with the entirely deserted fencing hall of a locally garrisoned infantry regiment, whose fencing master had been seconded to other more menial day-to-day tasks. This was a common complaint among Italian military masters at the time, frequently cited as one of the main reasons why many left the army not long after their mandatory service period had expired. As our author Ferruccio points out, the vibrancy of a regimental fencing hall depended not only on the enthusiasm of its fencing master, as whether or not they were allowed time to carry out what was ostensibly their primary role in the regiment was up to the whims of their superiors.

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From Naples

II.

The National Academy

If I am not boring you, I will continue my Parthenopean fencing review.

The first fencing circle that Saverio Cerchione took me to visit was the National Academy. He is at home there, because he sits on its technical committee.¹

The National Academy, an institution which your newspaper has already spoken about extensively, is the most aristocratic and luxurious meeting of fencers I know of. The salon of the Maddaloni Palace, in which the members do their daily and nightly training, is decorated in an astonishing splendour. The ceiling and walls bear very famous 16th century paintings. Six pairs can comfortably bout at the same time, and for invitational exhibitions there is another room, equally as rich and artistic, but large enough to contain just under a thousand spectators.

When I set foot in the training hall, to which all the city's masters are in turn called to lend their services, Franco Vega was bouting at foil with Filippo Salvati, and Maestro De Cugni with Marquis Mastelloni.

There have been too many occasions for the Gazzetta dello Sport to talk about Franco Vega to repeat here the praises of this prince elect of the sword, one of the most faithful and pure followers of the noble traditions of the Sicilian school.

It would be better for me to instead talk to you about his opponent, the magnificent fencer whose name, owing both to his innate modesty and his loathing of public tournaments, is not well known—as it should be—in the Italian fencing world.

I introduce to you:

Source: Museo UNASCI

Filippo Salvati

Young, of pleasing appearance, dark-haired, an intelligent eye, shapely body, correctly proportioned, average height. He possesses a truly rare balance of physical and intellectual faculties.

His mastery of the blade, a marvellous fusion between the blade, arm, and legs make him—someone with a swift intuition of actions as well as the most obedient means of execution—one of the strongest amateurs I know, perhaps the strongest—and I've met a fair few.

His game is clear, indeed I would say pure: no abuse of the counter parry, no use of the disordinata; such knowledge of measure, firmness in the parry, and readiness in launching the riposte, whether simple or with feints, enough to marvel anyone who sees him—and baffle any opponent. Filippo Salvati's ripostes are bullets; bullets from a rifled barrel, of the latest model.

And what's very rare: the same applies for both sword as well as sabre.

I give this praise for Filippo Salvati all the more willingly inasmuch as I know he, like his valorous master Cerchione, is modest. Few know how to treat fencing, philosophically, like he does: for it alone, for the beauties within it, without any concern for the satisfaction it may give to one's self-esteem.

The other bout I mentioned was the one at foil between Maestro De Cugni, of the Royal Navy, and the amateur Marquis Mastelloni.

De Cugni—tall, elegant, courteous—is a fencer very worthy of note who, having been condemned to inaction for a couple of years at La Maddalena, where he was garrisoned, is now training here with all his energy—and this is enough to quickly bring honour to Neapolitan professionalism.

Marquis Mastelloni, aside from his bout with Maestro De Cugni, also fenced sabre with the amateur Bellucci.

Mastelloni, also educated by Cerchione, like Filippo Salvati, in rigorous artistic principles and full of good will and passion, and who was already a very good amateur, will soon take his place at the forefront of fencers, gifted as he is with excellent means.

I must also give equal praise to Mr. Giurato, another amateur whom I also admired in a bout at the National Academy. Cunning as a wolf and endowed with a great fencing intuition, Giurato is already a fencer whose glides can entangle his opponents.

And now, if I may, I lead my readers on a visit to the Arabian phoenix of military regiments, in a fencing sense.

The 10th Bersaglieri Regiment

It's a safe bet to say that this is the regiment that does the most fencing.

Is the credit for this due to Maestro Edoardo De Simone or to its commissioned and non-commissioned officers? Probably both one and the other. The fact is they all work with a rare persistence and with progress relative to that persistence.

Listen to what a small team of fencers and, note, good fencers the 10th Bersaglieri has.

In order of rank: Cav. Major Miozzi, a very challenging foilist, capable of provoking thought and study even in skilled fencers; Captain Aroldo Pinelli, too well known in the amateur fencing scene to need an introduction: still young, still energetic, and still an exquisite sabreur, it is by his example that a small cohort of his regimental companions are enthralled and encouraged towards the seductions of the art of arms; the blond Lieutenant Carpentiero, with his pale blue eyes and inexhaustible joviality, who days ago won first prize in the regimental sabre competition; lieutenants Pasquale De Ferrante, Luigi Giuliani, Pavia, Marullo, and De Donato, a remarkable sword and sabre fencer, and then the non-commissioned officers Bardelli, very talented, Biasiello, whom I have seen in various tournaments, Chiaria, and also Antonio Pappano, who aspires to get into the Master's School.

What more could you want?

There has been no shortage of work for Maestro De Simone, who has become rejuvenated and slimmer in marriage, and it's a good thing for him that he has such a passion for his art and such intelligence.

Edoardo De Simone, c. 1921.

In conclusion, the 10th Bersaglieri regiment and its instructor De Simone deserve, with respect to fencing, to be pointed out and held up as an example for others.

And to say that in this very city there is an infantry regiment (at a time in which the practice of fencing should be taken up with enthusiasm) whose fencing hall has just been closed because it is cluttered with various objects, and the master was permanently assigned to the non-commissioned officer's mess hall!

Ferruccio.

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1 The Academy's technical committee is in charge of the curriculum and the assessment of fencing master candidates.^↩

From Benevento to Naples (Part 1)

Within the wealth of sporting magazines and newspaper articles which commented on fencing in late 19th century Italy, there are several journalists who stand out for their entertaining or unique writing styles, providing a refreshing break from simple tournament reports or the often dry, technical writing of fencing treatises. Journalists of this calibre such as Jacopo Gelli and Roderico Rizzotti have been recurring characters in this blog over the years, and even some fencing masters like Luigi Barbasetti could demonstrate a respectable command of language suitable for newspaper and magazine formats.

The three-part series of articles I will be sharing today and in the following weeks is an amusing and informative tour of the vibrant fencing scene in late-1890s Naples, in which the pseudonymous author provides intimate snap-shots of famous civilian fencing halls such as the National Academy of Fencing as well as the gymnasia of the local military garrison. We will meet figures such as Enrichettian-turned-Radaellian master Saverio Cerchione, the humble yet formidable amateur Filippo Salvati, the young scion of the Rome Master's School Edoardo De Simone, and many more.

The articles in question were published in Milan's Gazzetta dello Sport between 25 November and 5 December 1898, written by a correspondent with the pseudonym 'Ferruccio'. I have yet been unable to identify who this author was, although given the fact that they claim to have recently moved to Benevento from Milan, the pseudonym 'Ferruccio' may be hinting that they were a former member of the Circolo Tiratori Milanesi e Ferruccio, a popular fencing club in Milan that had closed a little over a year before these articles were published. Aside from Roderico Rizzotti, who was co-director of the Gazzetta della Sport and published under his own name, the two most prominent members of the club at the time of its closure were Primo Tiboldi and Andrea Weysi, but all were still living in Milan at the time, suggesting a less well-known figure.

To complement the articles, where possible I have provided some photos of the various characters encountered throughout our tour of Naples, starting off here with Saverio Cerchione.

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From Benevento to Naples

I.

When, three months ago, I moved my curtains from Milan to Benevento and I was given the honour of becoming a correspondent for your newspaper, more than in any other sporting movement that I have found in this ancient city, I felt confident in how much my energy could do in favour of sport in general and fencing in particular.

A vain illusion of mine!

Here all the energy of my muscles and my will is subdued or is such a deep sleep that it cannot be shaken even by the bestial and vulgar cry with which the donkey drivers urge their long-eared quadrupeds to hasten their sluggish pace.

For centuries and centuries, Benevento's only energy has been of the tectonic variety. Ten times it was shaken from its foundations, being struck by ten earthquakes in little more than a millennium, sometimes leaving it almost half destroyed.

Here is the sad and unenviable record of such beautiful, picturesque, and brilliant land!

While few cities present, like Benevento, such a richness of environs and picturesque outings, favoured by smooth and clean roads, cycling, which had a vertiginous development across the globe, is the same here as it was as it was ten years ago, and the best means of locomotion for the fellow citizens of Niccolò Franco¹ is still a one-horse carriage, no matter how narrow and ramshackle, or the bare back of a docile donkey.

I knew that Benevento used to have a fencing master—a very good one, even. It was Pisanelli, whom I had met at Palermo in 1892, and with whose help I was hoping to achieve something. But I had counted my chickens before they hatched, or rather, counted on Pisanelli, who, after having spent several years doing all he could to encourage the otherwise intelligent youth of Benevento to attend his fencing hall, he was forced to close up shop and move to Lucera in search of better luck.

Another young volunteer, Mr. Peluso, previously a non-commissioned officer of the cavalry and now a gymnastics master and fencing teacher at the local boarding school, hoped to do what Pisanelli could not; but the fencing hall, which is also a venue for target shooting, remained empty and silent.

It is therefore natural that, given these surroundings, I too shut myself away.

However, when days ago I received your letter reminding me of my duty as a correspondent, I sprang up like an animal lashed by the tamer's whip, as it dawned on me that I had been stealing my stipends for too long. With no other way to go digging for material to prove my good will to you, I immediately set out for Naples.

I had a feeling that I would straight away be in my element, and my feeling did not deceive me. Indeed, while I was idling around for a short time in Via Toledo, I was approached by a man, short in stature, slightly lame, and leaning on a cane due to the arthritis he suffers from.

It was Saverio Cerchione, the talented master and a correspondent of yours who, as soon as he sees me, bursts into an exclamation of joy and greets me with a truly fraternal warmth.

'Oh it's you! Well, how are you?' he asks.²

'Still standing!,' I respond with that wit which so distinguishes me, and I embrace him.

'Yes,' he replies, 'I can see that, you f-' and here, in place of the f he gives an energetic exclamation which I cannot recall, even though it did not seem new to me, and which I think rhymes with pucker.

Straight away I take the small, kind Cerchione arm-in-arm, as if he were a treasure given to me by chance, and I immediately think, without a double meaning, that I am finally 'on the right track'.³

Saverio Cerchione

For those who don't know him, he is the most highly regarded of Neapolitan masters.

Having come here 11 years ago from the Rome Master's School with well-established fame as a talented teacher and fencer, he, who was one of the purest Radaellians, had to endure a great struggle to carve a path through professionalism and prevail over amateurism, which in Southern Italy has a lot more weight than in Northern Italy.

Yet his adamantine character, heart of gold, tirelessness, and above all his artistic talent, being made abundantly clear in a hundred public and private exhibitions, soon helped him move onwards and upwards.

Saverio Cerchione, unlike many other masters, never renounced the principles of the school he came from, and the merits of this can be felt with sword in hand, with sabre in hand.

So it was that in Naples the word 'Radaellism'—which in the field of fencing once sounded almost like artistic blasphemy, certainly like barbarism—could be pronounced and carve out a space.

For several years Cerchione, afflicted by painful arthritis, no longer performs in public, but his work as a teacher is still the same as ever, and his fencing hall in Via Santa Lucia still produces students who give great credit to their master, as well as themselves.

It is enough to mention Filippo Salvati, whom I will tell you about later, and Vittorio Argento, the highly competent fencing editor of Napoli-Sport and a challenging amateur for any opponent, able to take on even the best fencers.

I also note Marquis Mastelloni, whom I have had the pleasure to bout with in sabre, and finally Mr. Giurato, still a young sapling, but who will not take long to bear good fruit.

Of the Grand National Academy, the fencing hall of Maestro Vega, the 10th Bersaglieri regiment, and still other halls which, thanks to the courtesy of my mentor Cerchione, I have been able to visit, I will talk about in another issue, because I think today I have taken up enough of your space.

Ferruccio.

22 November

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1 A 16th century poet and writer from Benevento. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niccol%C3%B2_Franco_(pamphleteer).^↩
2 In contrast to the author’s use of standard Italian, Cerchione’s replies here are written in Neapolitan dialect.^↩
3 The potential for a double meaning is, unfortunately, lost in translation.^↩