Fencing and the duel are often assumed to be inextricably linked throughout European history and especially within the minds of 19th century Italians. This is not just observed among historians and laypeople today, but also for many fencers of the time, some of whom spilt a great deal of ink debating matters of personal honour. In his various writings on the topic, Luigi Barbasetti placed himself among the camp of those who ostensibly wished to see the duel abolished but nonetheless acknowledged that, at least for the time being, the impotence of the court system made it a vital necessity for the maintenance of honour. However, rather than seeing fencing as a reinforcement of duelling culture, in today's featured translation Barbasetti argues that a proper fencing education was the best cure against it.
The following translated articles were published in Gazzetta dello Sport on 8 and 15 January 1897. In the first part Barbasetti refutes the idea that to train for the duel one needs only train their courage or their natural temperament, instead arguing that the practice of conventional bouting in a fencing hall provides the crucial missing element for success. In the second part he elevates the use of the point as the primary means of instilling prudence in the opponent during sabre duels. By reminding duellists of the risk of death, Barbasetti believes that the duel would not be resorted to for resolving petty squabbles, thereby making the duel less common.
Given that the practice of using blunt-tipped sabres in duels appears to have been far more common in Austria-Hungary than in Italy, we can see through this article how his observations of a foreign duelling culture had brought certain issues to the forefront of Barbasetti's mind. Even as a supposed 'adversary' of the duel, it is clear he prefers the duelling culture of his native land over that of Austria.
Fencing and duelling
When observing a bout, it often happens that the layman wonders to himself how true, how practical, in the case of a duel, is that whole muddle of blows and parries, all those conventional expedients which are used and abused in a fencing hall.
If you take your advice from the Baron de Bazancourt,1 he will tell you that what is practical, true, is only that which comes from individual temperament, and then he will show you the advantage of seeking naturalism even in a bloodless bout; classicists will respond that since fencing has strictly scientific foundations, it gives precise rules for success through the art that is within the individual; and finally, if you ask some eccentric—or better said, some fortunate duellist—they will have you believe that in the duel only one thing matters: courage.
The exclusivity of these three opinions evidently reveals one part of the error, indeed two parts, since the elements of success are obtained by marrying temperament with scientific reason, of which, on the duelling ground, courage would be the moral executor.
Following Bazancourt's empirical theories—which, after all, are the theories of the majority—would achieve the same result as those who would pretend to be a scholar or painter without any desire to understand the scientific foundations of the art or the fundamentals of culture and who, simply following inclination, would compose and paint.
Certainly through constant study, work, and routine they can manage—if they have talent—to make something good, even brilliant; but their work will be no more than the product of unconscious intuition, not guided by the hand of experience—and as such it will be as fragile as clay; it could not withstand the blow of even superficial critique.
If the study of fencing must really serve as preparation for the duel, it must indeed be stripped of as much conventionalism as possible, but it is necessary to make use of all elements with the principle of subordinating all mechanical factors to the temperament of the acting agent.
Therefore it is not simply a matter of the pure mechanics of the movements—which in their effects represent dynamic force—but it is also a matter of comprehending the determining causes in relation to the opponent.
It would take too long and I will not deny it being beyond my abilities to demonstrate these principles, but the simple enunciation is sufficient to understand the necessity of an accurate study based on collective experience, which is presented in the form of the various teaching methods now in force, methods which can be excellent when they are interpreted by excellent masters.
And there is the catch!
In the innumerable number of blows, in their varied application, the fencer finds the one which best suits their own nature and their own physical means, and which becomes, through habit and appeal, their secret blow, the blow which they will use nine times out of ten on the duelling ground.
During a bout in the fencing hall, where one's concern for the body is purely a concern of self-esteem, it is natural that conventionalism prevails, because there the bout is only a game, just as military manoeuvres are in comparison to war; however, theoretical understanding and practical study give a firm awareness of one's own courage, they give confidence and, I would almost say, a sort of artificial courage to those who are not particularly gifted with this precious faculty as a result of that psychic conviction which is acquired by studying danger, even only theoretically, and through the improvement of one's physical means, which are one of the main coefficients of mental strength.
It therefore cannot be asserted that, for the duel, fencing is insufficient solely because it is academic and conventional.
Fencing prepares for the duel as the school prepares scholars and scientists.
One often hears it repeated that this or that famous fencer in some far-flung town was defeated in a duel by someone who had never held a weapon before.
First of all, it would necessary to verify the celebrity of these heroes, but even if they were Bajardo or Fieramosca,2 the fact would mean nothing since the probability—out of a thousand, out of a hundred, out of ten— that the untrained person has could favour him on the very first blow.
Fencing does not concern itself with this: its aim is much higher than in the duel; its aim is eminently civil.
It would be necessary to shout this to the masses, like the apostles repeated to the masses the words of the Rabbi of Nazareth.
But...but unfortunately we professionals are often lacking in culture and demeanour and, consequently, even that moral authority which is necessary to be able to convince our students.
And too often we yield to the temptation to discredit ourselves and our craft.
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I return willingly to a topic which I find very interesting and on which I insist through the profound and immutable conviction which I have formed over years lived among and for arms.
I wish that this conviction of mine were widespread, but I would be over the moon if this ever gets instilled at least in those who study fencing as a preventative measure against the duel. And I touch on this topic because it seems to me the most sensible in the general opinion.
I will preface by saying that I am no friend of the duel, but of the art of fencing understood in its most elevated civil aim, for which reason I could be believed in good faith if I, as an adversary, speak in favour of something disagreeable to me.
It is said—because saying it is convenient—that the study of fencing has little use in the case of duelling; indeed it is asserted that almost always the fencer has the disadvantage on the duelling ground because they adhere too much to rules of art, as opposed to those who could not care less about rules.
If this nonsense is often supported by fact, it is because this follows on from more nonsense: that of considering as a fencer anyone who, perhaps by chance or through the insistence of friends, is member of a fencing hall, and the belief is conveniently taken advantage of by the ease with which a number of people pass themselves off as such with the poorly concealed aim of intimidating their neighbour.
This belief, well-ingrained, unfortunately exists, and it will not be I who manages to eradicate it. Let us therefore leave it be, and think rationally for a moment.
The study of fencing has the aim of teaching how to hit without being hit—and a fencer is simply someone who knows how to effectively demonstrate this axiom, in a fencing hall at least. Now, place him on the duelling ground, no longer protected by a mask, glove, etc., but animated by a sufficient dose of courage that allows him to be calm, and then tell me if he does not now have the same advantages—or if the matter is how many believe it to be, by those who evidently have no understanding of fencing.
But in what artistic state must the fencer appear on the duelling ground? He must appear in such a state as to be able to take advantage of all the attributes of their weapon in order to effectively achieve their aim.
And what are these attributes?
For the sabre—since this is what I intend to talk about—they are blows with the edge and point, but more particularly with the point, due to the effects it produces on one's instincts of self-preservation. And here is my subject.
In Austria-Hungary the use of the point in duelling is tacitly abolished, due to an instinctive terror produced in the minds of the seconds by the idea, by the dismay of a fatal blow. And it is precisely here that most of the errors, logically and artistically speaking, are located. We know that a thrust sends somebody to the next life better than a pistol bullet—very often a ball of flax—and this is precisely why duellists mutually respect one another, neither wishing to impale the other or let themselves get impaled like rotisserie chickens.
So if two opponents are placed opposite one another with sharpened points, you can be sure that there will be no need to advise them to keep their distance: they will keep it themselves!
It is precisely when life is at stake that the duel takes place with the rules of the utmost prudence, with well calculated blows, aiming more often at the arm, which is closest and which ninety times out of a hundred receives the baptism of blood. This is statistics, and there is no debating statistics.
It is therefore evident that those who have made even a mediocre study of fencing will be found in a position of great superiority over those who are ignorant of it, because with the use of the point he will remove the latter's primary resource of attacking wildly, with which, even at the risk of receiving a cut, he will, however, be likely to give one in return. Those who do not know fencing will not take so lightly the risk of giving a cut in order to possibly receive a thrust, and their instinct will lead them to defend their own hide, thus rendering them passive to the play of those who know how to direct blows and are educated in prudence.
The use of the point will abolish those scandalous, brutal, and barbarous massacres which in the fencing hall are simply called doubles, and you will arrive directly in the realms of the art which, however conventional it seems, is nevertheless the synthesis of theories and individual experience.
The point is the sole touchstone of the faculties acquired by duellists.
Those who know more will have the best chance, and those who know less will have at their disposal...legs to defend the body, if not their arm.
When this principle reaches the public, we will have achieved the dual aim of eliminating a great number of duels caused for ridiculous reasons—duels which too often end up fatal—and compelling the youth to study fencing, which is the true, the only medicine against the duel.
The indirect effects that come from a serious study of the art of fencing are precisely those which remove the opportunity for fighting over trivial matters, since the fencer avoids duelling through their education derived from the knowledge they have of danger, and from the moral superiority which they, with the increase of dynamic force, have reflexively acquired—though in individuals as in nations, well-directed physical force is a necessary coefficient in moral force, both collective and individual.
I therefore advise fencers especially not only to study the thrust closely, but to never agree to excluding, in a fight, the best, the most effective means of defence, which is the well-sharpened point—and this is not because they alone should have the pleasure of impaling their neighbour, but because the time occupied with love in the fencing hall can produce the benefit that will give them the right to be feared and respected by those irresponsible people who place the duel in the service of vain, childish causes.
If the duel is a remnant of barbarism, it is nevertheless still a godsend in comparison to the impotence of our laws with respect to honour, since if this honour, as we understand it, is threatened or tarnished, it cannot be defended or restored without taking up arms.
It is uncivil to maintain the principle of the duel substituting the law of force for the force of law; but it is ridiculous to condemn it when we ourselves fling dirt at those who choose not to fight but instead quarrel in court over a slap.
Luigi Barbasetti
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1 Translator's Note: See Baron de Bazancourt, Secrets of the Sword, trans. C. F. Clay (London: George Bell, 1900).↩2 TN: The two duelling protagonists of Massimo d'Azeglio's 1833 historical novel Ettore Fieramosca o la disfida di Barletta.↩
