Continuing on from last week's article from Ottorino Scognamiglio, today is part two of our glimpse into the Mecca of pre-war Italian fencing, the Military Fencing Master's School in Rome.
This second account comes from Giovanni Franceschinis, who after graduating from the school had a long and successful career teaching in Vienna, following in the footsteps of Luigi Barbasetti, whom he spent some time training under during his time at the Master's School. This article was originally published in the July 1956 issue of the Italian Fencing Fedaration's magazine Scherma. It is the first of three articles by Franceschinis that the magazine published, with the other two dedicated to his career in Austria. While these are also interesting in their own right, only the first article will be translated here due to its relevance to the Rome Fencing Master's School.
Contrary to what Franceschinis claims, his course at the school took place from 1890 to 1893, so any of the dates he gives regarding his time there should be shifted a year earlier. Compared to Scognamiglio's account, Franceschinis pays a little more attention to the individuals involved in the training as well as their and his own achievements during the early stages of his career. These details partly set the stage for Franceschinis' subsequent articles in which he describes the glories and successes of Italian fencing throughout Europe at the turn of the 20th century, in addition to simply allowing Franceschinis to associate himself with the more famous figures at the centre of these events.
Biographies of great masters: Maestro Giovanni Franceschinis
On the occasion of the dispute at the Gaudini Cup in Milan last March, we had the pleasure of meeting Maestro Giovanni Franceschinis in person (we already knew him by reputation), and since we knew that he had had a rather interesting life, we asked him to dictate something for the readers of Scherma, a request which he immediately granted with pleasure.
Perhaps few fencers, even among the masters, will remember him; most do not know who he is. This is not very surprising, since, aside from belonging to that privileged and, unfortunately, now quite...rarefied category of fencers and masters who are well into their 80s, Franceschinis lived abroad for many years; and as we know, 'out of sight, out of mind'. But not so for us, having imposed on ourselves the dutiful task (not always easy, to tell the truth, and least of all supported by the interested parties themselves) of pulling from oblivion those who have given to our sport their best energies and—whether as amateurs or as professionals—brought prestige and honour to Italian fencing. As Franceschinis occupies a very worthy place among these people, we are glad to take advantage of the occasion which put us in contact with him in order to introduce him to readers.
We intended to make this introduction immediately after the interview; unfortunately we were forced to postpone month after month because the competitive activity was such that it completely absorbed the available space. However, as we are not dealing with topical matters, the postponement does not harm either the story or its presentation.
Franceschinis, for those who do not know, is a vigorous and venerable old man who wears his 86 years of age with ease, and his upright body still maintains some of that proud bearing acquired in the Nizza Cavalry, which he was a part of in his distant youth. He now lives, almost in solitude, in Milanino, living on nostalgic memories and a very poor pension, something which these days happens often to many survivors of the previous century. But even if life for him now is somewhat sad and difficult, he has not lost the spiritual serenity that was his faithful companion and solid support in the fight for existence, carefree and beautiful while the years were carefree and beautiful, but tough and sad when it should have been easy and peaceful.
May he be comforted by the thought that those who knew him remember him with affection and respect, and we at the columns of Scherma wish him all the best. Having made this introduction, here is what the good Franceschinis told us:
How I became a fencing master
I was born in Udine on 15 August 1869, and I am the son of an Italian patriot, one of the brave defenders of Osoppo Fortress (1848) who was deported in 1861 to Olmutz, in Moravia, for having participated in the revolutionary revolts for Italian independence in that year, then he was a captain commissioner in the Italian army. Like most old fencing masters, I too come from the famous Military Master's School, which was founded in Rome in 1884 and in which I attended the 4th course (1891–1894), under the direction of the great Maestro Masaniello Parise.1
To tell the truth, my career was not supposed to be that of a fencing master. My father wanted to make me a brilliant officer, and to that aim he made sure to send me through the strict classrooms of the Milan Military College, where I lived for four years, from 1884 to 1888. In 4th year, however, while I was getting by quite well in other subjects, I stumbled in mathematics, and since I would have to repeat the year, no longer with half-board (until then I had been able, as the son of an officer, to enjoy this benefit), but full board, and my father was unable to support me, I thus volunteered in the army, enlisting as a student sergeant in the 1st Nizza Cavalry regiment in Milan. Two years after promotion to sergeant, I applied and was accepted into the Fencing Master's School.
When I entered the school I was not ignorant of fencing, because both at the college—under the guidance of the civil masters Guarisco and Cavallo—as well as in the Nizza Regiment, I was successfully frequenting the fencing hall, falling in love with this most noble art.2 At the Master's School I passionately applied myself under the guidance of Maestro Guasti.
The school was then, as is known, at the Santa Caterina barracks (Salita Magnanapoli), with modest facilities, but a now rich tradition of seriousness and intention: a true school of character and art. The school was subordinate to the Ministry of War. Militarily it was commanded by an army captain, and—for its technical aspect—it was under the direction of Maestro Masaniello Parise, winner of the competition for a unified text on sabre and foil fencing, announced by the Ministry. The courses at the school, to achieve the Military Master diploma with an army or navy regiment, lasted two years, later increased to three years in 1892.
The school had a first-rate teaching body, selected from among the best and most capable masters in all of Italy. Aside from the director Parise, there were two vice-directors (civil masters Pecoraro and Pessina); the teaching masters: Guasti and Laudati (civil), Drosi, Nappi, and others.
There were six hours of lessons per day: three in the morning, two in the afternoon, plus one for theory. An hour of gymnastics early in the morning. In addition to the lessons with one's master, there were set exercises in pairs—always, however, under the supervision of the master. Even the vice-directors gave lessons, occasionally, taking turns. For the first year of the course there was no sabre, only foil. There were competitions, to touch with a lunge, by direct thrust or parry-riposte, but never in close measure. Exercises which developed the fencer greatly.
In the second year Maestro Agesilao Greco joined the school, employed as a bouting master, without a student group.3 He was already a very strong fencer, with exceptional physical strength and endurance, more enamoured with and passionate about his art than any other. To give an idea of this passion of his, I will tell you an anecdote. We were both in the guardhouse in the barracks, he for eight days and I for fifteen, through common military shortcomings. One day I see him arrive at the guardhouse with foils, masks, and Indian clubs. For us the days of confinement in the guardhouse were...days of rest. Anything but rest! Agesilao made me work like a dog.4
During the year various military masters, already in the service and blessed with special talents, were called to the school for supplementary courses of two or three months, such as Santelli, Tagliapietra, Conte, Tagliaferri, and Schiavoni. These masters were, for us students, of great benefit in every respect. During the 2nd year of the course (1892) the director, on behalf of the Ministry of War and at the invitation of the English ministry, went on a mission to London with a group of the best masters and fencers for a demonstration of Italian fencing. Taking part were the masters: A. Greco, I. Santelli, E. Torricelli, and Schiavoni.5 Their exhibitions enraptured the cold and formal English public.
The school's students often participated in national and even international tournaments. For example, at the Grand Palermo Tournament during the 1893 National Exposition the school—by order of the Ministry—sent seven students from the 3rd year as amateurs (registration was free for masters), in particular: Alesiano, Berti, Gazzera, Miserocchi, Morellini, Olimpico, and this author. All were among the best classified with a gold medal. In addition to my two medals in foil and sabre, I received an English Colt carbine, which was a special gift from the Commanding General of the Army Corps. There were around 300 participants, and the unforgettable tournament lasted 14 days. Agesilao Greco was first among the masters, in foil and sabre. They were the best and strongest blades in Italy.
During my last year at the school the director Parise often entrusted me with special assignments, and on one such occasion I had the fortune of witnessing the civil master exams (students at the school were excluded). The committee was composed of General Manacorda, president, and masters Parise, Pecoraro, Pagliuca, Masiello, Pessina, and others. In such circumstances, performances were made. It was in one of them that I saw the most thrilling bout of my life. The protagonists were masters A. Greco and Vittorio Sartori (the dynamite Bersaglieri, as he was called). It was a masterpiece of fencing and art. The bout lasted 35 minutes. Greco won 4 hits to 1.
In July 1894 I was appointed master, with 24 other colleagues, one of whom from the navy. 63 people were admitted to my course.6 As you can see, it was a real sifting. I was assigned to the 7th Milan Cavalry, stationed at Nola.
Partly due to the uninviting headquarters, largely due to the fascination that young masters had for the international fame that surrounded our fencing masters—who at that time were in demand everywhere—the fact was that I too was looking for an escape and an adventure beyond the borders of the fatherland, and for this purpose I turned to Maestro Barbasetti, who was then teaching in Vienna and whom I, for a few months, had had as a teacher at the Rome Master's School.
Having left the army not long before in order to fill the more remunerative instructor position at the Trieste Fencing Society, whose president was the great fencer Count Sordina (a position subsequently occupied by Maestro Tagliapietra, who held it until his death in 1948), Barbasetti moved to Vienna for a few months at the military school in Wiener Neustadt and the Union Fechtclub. While waiting for the anticipated call, I put my attention to perfecting myself, going to the National Academy in Naples, where I worked with the masters Russomando, Macrì, and others.
But Barbasetti did not get in touch, and then, without thinking about it too much, I requested and obtained overseas leave—I had relatives in Trieste and it was not difficult for me to get; I left, bag over my shoulder, first for Triste, then for Vienna, where I was welcomed with justified astonishment but also delight by Barbasetti, who immediately put me to the test. It was August 1895.7 The lasting impression on the Viennese fencing scene was excellent. Three months later, I was called by telegraph to be professor of fencing at the Wiener Athletiksport Club, in the process of being founded. I obtained my discharge in advance. I hurried to my family in Udine, then, with two scraps of civilian clothing, my trusty bag over my shoulder, I arrived in Vienna with a metre and a half of snow, but with my heart boiling over, happy.
I began by helping Barbasetti with private lessons, waiting for my club to settle in, as I will discuss later. Incidentally, I will mention that, almost at the same time as Barbasetti, our great Italo Santelli was called to Budapest, being already very famous, and who immediately gave a remarkable boost and a very personal imprint on fencing in Hungary, the results of which we can see!
At that time, fencing was at its height everywhere. Imagine that at the time I was in Vienna, in Budapest alone there were no less than 1,000 fencing connoisseurs, among whom distinguished personalities in politics, science, and the arts. I had the honour of having as my student in Vienna the then captain Gömbös, who was later Prime Minister of Hungary and whose manuscripts I hold dear.
Giovanni Franceschinis
*******
1 Many of the dates Franceschinis gives, particularly those early in his career, are off by a year, as in this instance. He in fact attended the school from 1890 to 1893, and his was the 5th full-length course at the Rome school.↩2 If Antonio Guarisco was teaching at the Milan Military College during this time, he would have been a regular military master, not a civil master. The fencing master of the Nizza cavalry at this time was most likely Ercole Baldi.↩
3 As the name suggests, bouting masters were employed by the school purely to serve as bouting partners for the students.↩
4 Here Franceschinis uses the racial slur negro.↩
5 Almost correct. The masters who went were Agesilao Greco, Italo Santelli, Angelo Torricelli, and Vincenzo Drosi.↩
6 Franceschinis graduated in July 1893. Sources differ on how many students were initially admitted to the course, but the actual figure is probably closer to 44. The number he states as graduating after third year, however, is likely correct.↩
7 These events in fact took place in 1896, not 1895.↩
1. A bout lasting 35 minutes and only 4-1? Why do you think that was? Seems awfully long.
ReplyDelete2. “ There were competitions, to touch with a lunge, by direct thrust or parry-riposte, but never in close measure.” I’m trying to visualize such exercises. Would this be normal bouting but just with direct thrust and parry-riposte at step-lunge distance? Not close measure?
3. Were military students excluded from taking examinations or was there just a different exam for civilian masters?
– MotS
1. According to a contemporary account of those exams, Greco also had bouts with 3 other people on the day, so I am a little sceptical that that single bout would have lasted so long. Nevertheless, there are other examples from around this time of where drawn-out, cautious bouts are touted as praiseworthy. If you look at footage from the earlier Olympic Games, even in the 1920s, you will see bouts (even for sabre) where both fencers are very hesitant to attack, and spend a lot of time slowly marching back and forth before one of them finally commits, so it's possible they had a similar culture in the 1890s. I also wouldn't rule out there being some kind of performative aspect to the bouts in these exams.
Delete2. Close measure in Italian terminology refers to the distance where both fencers can hit without lunging, so I assume what Franceschinis is referring to would have the fencers start at least at lunge distance, or out of measure. This is purely my own speculation, but it simply reads to me like the students played a game where fencers are only limited to direct attacks and parry-riposte on the lunge.
3. The exams Franceschinis talks about here are for military masters who have already graduated from the Master's School, and they are competing to get a promotion to 'civil master'. This role effectively means they are no longer soldiers mostly confined to a single regiment, but are instead civilians employed by the military to teach at 'civil institutions', which were actually military schools and colleges. There were only a limited number of places available, and it came with a considerable pay rise, so the exams were of course highly competitive.
1. Yes I suspect it’s a variety of factors. Principally I suspect the judges might have only awarded what they considered aesthetically good hits.
Delete2. I should have thought about it some more. Seems like it was from lunge distance. Reminds me of what the Hungarians did to practice parry riposte. Their walls on the back and the attacker lunge distance or more.
3.So this is a bit confusing to me. Why would a military master have to take another elaborate exam to become a civil master? Or was it the case that all these students after three years were testing to become the equivalent of provosts or instructors. I know it’s not Radaelli but would love to see more articles about the Magistrale program.
– MotS
I doubt there were any judges for the exam bouts, just fencers calling their own hits, as was customary. The 'score' Franceschinis gives was probably just his own personal tally from watching. After public exhibition bouts in this period (where no formal score was kept) you would often see conflicting reports from journalists on how many touches there were. When a Frenchman fenced an Italian, for example, the French press would of course be more inclined to say the Frenchman had more touches, and the Italians would favour their man.
DeleteThere were only a limited number of places available for civil masters at one time, fewer than 40, and since they got paid more there was no reason for the army to promote more than they needed. Don't get confused by the terminology here. There was nothing stopping a fencing master from leaving the army and teaching at their own private hall or at a fencing club as a civilian, but they wouldn't be able to get a permanent position at a military academy without the official 'civil master' promotion.