One of the most distinguishing aspects of Italian sabre fencing, at least in the opinion of foreign commentators in the 1890s, was the fact that Italian sabres tended to be very light and flexible in comparison to their European neighbours. It is difficult to establish why and when exactly this trend began in Italy, but it is clear that by the late 1880s the light fencing sabre had firmly established itself as the typical Italian tool of choice. There was the occasional protest or counter-movement from Italians against this aspect of their fencing culture, most notably around the end of the 1890s from advocates of 'fencing on the ground' (a topic for a later time), but it was the light sabre that remained dominant and quickly spread throughout the western world, often accompanied by the Radaellian method.
Today we will be looking at two articles published by two different Radaellian masters, Luigi Barbasetti and Saverio Cerchione, in which they briefly comment on this established culture of light fencing weapons, one with resigned acceptance and the other with positive justification. Both were published in Gazzetta dello Sport in the late 1890s a little over year apart, and both had written and would go on to write several other articles for this magazine. Barbasetti's writing often concerned itself with duelling culture or suggestions for remedying what he and many others perceived as the 'decline' of fencing in Italy, particularly with regard to sabre. The article of his provided here is more in relation to his issues with the light foil as opposed to the sabre, but it also touches on his distaste for the general cultural trend of Italian fencing at the time as opposed to the 'old Italian fencing' of his youth. Cerchione shared similar views with Barbasetti on the trends in Italian fencing, but as we will soon see, he did not necessarily attribute this to the diminished weight of fencing equipment.
The best parry is the blow
This aphorism, although modern, could very well serve as a concise definition of old Italian fencing.
When the study of fencing had the sole aim of knowing how to use the weapon in a duel in the most practical and real way, fencing—by necessity having shed itself of all useless conventionalism—had to appear supremely simple and be carried out with few and elementary principles; but in reality that was really the great art, not only since it was based on what is true and certain, but because in it the necessary attributes for success could not be masked nor substituted by the false baroquism of the modern game. It is evident that with the heavy weapon and the longer and somewhat rigid blade, just like the weapon of the [duelling] ground, certain virtuosities are not permitted and, by necessity, they abolished all that junk, that embellishment and twirling of counters which we moderns think excellent things for entangling the opponent, while they are often nothing more than confirmation of our intrinsic impotence.
The fencers of old, given the structure of their sword and its true use, based their principles particularly on offence, using criteria without doubt exact in theory. For them the parry could only be a passive remedy through which they prepared their preferred blow in tempo on the opponent's attack. This is precisely where the inquartata, the interzata, the covered blows, the voids, the cartoccio etc. came from, and if this eminently Italian way of fencing was, as I said, adapted to suit the conditions that the weapon offered practically, it was also admirably suitable to our temperament's nature, its national character, which is shrewd and ingenious in its expedients. They would reason: 'having considered the blow that my opponent uses against me, it is a pleonasm, not to say absurd, to oppose it with a parry, since this does not exist in theory except through the deficiency of offence; but since this deficiency can always be counted on, more appropriate than the parry is the blow in tempo, through which the double aim of offence and defence is achieved in one tempo.'
The parries and ripostes which many consider to be a rare virtuosity are nothing more than theoretical absurdity; but having allowed, for the aforementioned reasons, the parry, it will always be a passive means of defence, since with a heavy duelling weapon one must be satisfied with deviating the blow also with the help of a retreat and leaving the riposte to the empiricism of theory which does not take into account the weapon with a sharpened point.
Attempting to return to the old would be an illusion, since fencing today does not have the duel as its purpose, but health, and we moderns have appropriately reduced it to a conventional game which in part—in its moral intent especially—nevertheless achieves useful results. But just do not persist in calling it traditional Italian fencing, since it has preserved as little of the tradition as it has the resemblance of the weapon to the old form.
The last and almost dismantled bulwark of our old fencing was, fifteen years ago, Palermo—in which the last captain, the valorous and poor Inguaggiato whom we so often forget, tried to fight even to the last bullet. Well, myself having just graduated from the Radaelli school at that time, and being completely pumped up with my modern theories and looking for trouble, I shouted against that tenacious persistence of the Palermitan fencers in preserving those large swords which bruised a rib with each direct thrust, and with the full presumptuous ignorance of those who are fresh out of a school, I haughtily insisted on demonstrating that with a good lash one could get through to the opponent's target even if the opponent parried. I was then foolish as I was young to have many personal followers; but the overwhelming wave which moved from Northern Italy was too impetuous for even Palermo to not yield—and unfortunately it yielded too much! And complete ruin came later, when the Master's School wanted to repaint its so-called Italian fencing by retouching it with that acumen, that depth of views and that competence which everyone knows. And today we no longer have the Radaelli School or the Italian School, but purely and simply a Frenchified mess.
That this is of serious harm, in any case I think not, and it would be vain to expect to stop the trend in its inexorable path when also it pleases the majority, even if in the artistic line it represents a disaster. On the contrary, let us wait—with a smile, since there is no use in moaning—for other novelties. Soon we will have aluminium weapons and leather guards and perhaps we masters will equip ourselves with a breastplate made of shortcrust pastry sprinkled with sugar in order to entice the children of elementary schools to study fencing.
Weapon weight in fencing
Many fencers lament the fact that today fencing is done with overly light weapons, which, according to them, would be contrary to the progress of the art. The question then suddenly arises: is it more advantageous to fence with light or heavy weapons?
With regard to offence, it is evident that the lighter the weapon is, the easier it is to wield and the more obedient it is to the will of the wielder, and since the main aim of a fighter is always that of being able to hit the opponent, there should be no doubt as to the advantage of having a weapon whose lightness enables it to match—I would say—the speed of one's thoughts.
Regarding defence, does anything change? To me it seems not, since if the main aim of the fighter is that of hitting the opponent, it is an absolute necessity to be able to defend from their attacks—and everyone knows that a quick and secure parry is equivalent to near-certainty of hitting with the riposte.
Now, is it not evident that with a light weapon, guided by a quick arm and a sure eye, it is much easier to rush to the parry when threatened either by feints or attacks? A heavy weapon, even one slightly disproportionate to the muscular strength of the wielder, results in such mistakes as to be beaten even when the right actions are adapted to the opponent's game, even when guessing their intentions.
When there is no possibility of giving the arm full speed in the execution of the necessary movements, when blade control is lacking even just partly, you are in a position of inferiority compared to the opponent. Many and various mechanical and dynamic reasons could be given in this regard, but I think it is more effective to take teaching from practice, which the theories derive from.
We see that the Africans, to cite a single example, remnants of hand-to-hand fighters, fight with light weapons. Their spears, their knives, and their shields are such that they can be wielded even by young people at an early age. The long practice of those peoples who live by war and for war has evidently induced them to use light weapons rather than heavy ones.
If we then take an example from our fencers, we see that the best among them, the most famous, almost always tend to use the lightest weapons. It is therefore my conviction that those who claim using light weapons in our fencing halls is contrary to the progress of the art are wrong.
2 Saverio Cerchione, "Il peso dell'arma nello schermire," La Gazzetta dello Sport, 24 October 1898, 2.↩
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