Post by LongBlade on May 22, 2005 10:17:23 GMT -6
Unmasking the mysteries surrounding fencing
Matthew Ricketson
TheAge.com
December 4, 2004
www.theage.com.au/articles/2004/12/03/1101923338620.html?oneclick=true
The cutting edge: as "By the Sword" gets right to the point in the ancient sport.
Remember the fencing at the Athens Olympics? All those masked men and women wearing long johns and hooked up to more wiring than you would find in ER.
The fencers would waggle their swords at each other, one would scream, rip off his mask and leap into the collective arms of his support team while the other would sink to his knees and bury his head in the mat as if it was the fifth act of King Lear.
As theatre it was riveting, if a touch melodramatic; as sport it was baffling.
Be baffled no more. Your columnist recently came across a book about fencing that not only explains the intricacies of the sport but is a veritable cornucopia of lore and stories about sword fighting.
By the Sword (Pan Books, 519 pages, $25) might be known to fencing aficionados, but few others will have heard of it. For them it is a wonderful book to dip into, such is the author's encyclopaedic knowledge and enthusiasm for the topic.
Cohen is an experienced broadcaster and journalist as well as a five-time British sabre champion and three-time Olympian. The book opens with his account of a duel he fought against a volatile champion,
"What does one look at in a duel? The eyes of one's opponent? His face? The angle of his body, the stance he assumes? Or maybe his blade as it arcs towards its target? All of them, in a way. One is hyperaware, sensing how the audience may be reacting, while focusing on the man in front of you."
It makes gripping reading; a duel with swords between two people is almost as primitive as it gets, which is perhaps why the tension we feel about such life and death encounters is released by laughing at the histrionics of modern, relatively safe fencers.
Fencing is also bound up with aesthetics and romance. "An extended scene of swordplay can appear in a contemporary movie, and be a kind of danger-laden ballet, while a scene of extended gunplay comes out as raw violence," wrote one commentator whom Cohen quotes.
Cohen's canvas is vast, beginning with the earliest matches, in Egypt in 1190 BC, charting the history of duelling, the development of sword technology, the search for the perfect thrust, Olympic fencing, even sword fights in movies.
The sword is embedded in culture: we shake hands to show we are not reaching for our swords; a man's coat buttons left over right so that a duellist may unbutton it with his left, unarmed hand; the two main political parties in the English House of Commons are separated by the precise length of two sword blades.
Cohen has gathered together countless stories about sword fighting. I particularly liked one about the origins of the phrase "the Admirable Crichton" which is best known today as the title of a J.M. Barrie play.
The original Crichton was a true renaissance man. A handsome, noble-born Scot, James Crichton could sing, dance, play musical instruments, played several sports, had a photographic memory and was fluent in 11 languages.
He was also an outstanding swordsman. Travelling to Mantua, Italy, Crichton found the city terrorised by an Italian bullyboy who had killed three local challengers in duels over three days with lethal thrusts to the throat, heart and belly.
Crichton agreed to challenge the unnamed bully and fought with serene skill and grace while his opponent grew ever more frustrated. Crichton wounded the man, first to the throat, then the heart, then the belly.
The Italian died; Crichton gave his share of the purse to the widows of the three challengers.
Matthew Ricketson
TheAge.com
December 4, 2004
www.theage.com.au/articles/2004/12/03/1101923338620.html?oneclick=true
The cutting edge: as "By the Sword" gets right to the point in the ancient sport.
Remember the fencing at the Athens Olympics? All those masked men and women wearing long johns and hooked up to more wiring than you would find in ER.
The fencers would waggle their swords at each other, one would scream, rip off his mask and leap into the collective arms of his support team while the other would sink to his knees and bury his head in the mat as if it was the fifth act of King Lear.
As theatre it was riveting, if a touch melodramatic; as sport it was baffling.
Be baffled no more. Your columnist recently came across a book about fencing that not only explains the intricacies of the sport but is a veritable cornucopia of lore and stories about sword fighting.
By the Sword (Pan Books, 519 pages, $25) might be known to fencing aficionados, but few others will have heard of it. For them it is a wonderful book to dip into, such is the author's encyclopaedic knowledge and enthusiasm for the topic.
Cohen is an experienced broadcaster and journalist as well as a five-time British sabre champion and three-time Olympian. The book opens with his account of a duel he fought against a volatile champion,
"What does one look at in a duel? The eyes of one's opponent? His face? The angle of his body, the stance he assumes? Or maybe his blade as it arcs towards its target? All of them, in a way. One is hyperaware, sensing how the audience may be reacting, while focusing on the man in front of you."
It makes gripping reading; a duel with swords between two people is almost as primitive as it gets, which is perhaps why the tension we feel about such life and death encounters is released by laughing at the histrionics of modern, relatively safe fencers.
Fencing is also bound up with aesthetics and romance. "An extended scene of swordplay can appear in a contemporary movie, and be a kind of danger-laden ballet, while a scene of extended gunplay comes out as raw violence," wrote one commentator whom Cohen quotes.
Cohen's canvas is vast, beginning with the earliest matches, in Egypt in 1190 BC, charting the history of duelling, the development of sword technology, the search for the perfect thrust, Olympic fencing, even sword fights in movies.
The sword is embedded in culture: we shake hands to show we are not reaching for our swords; a man's coat buttons left over right so that a duellist may unbutton it with his left, unarmed hand; the two main political parties in the English House of Commons are separated by the precise length of two sword blades.
Cohen has gathered together countless stories about sword fighting. I particularly liked one about the origins of the phrase "the Admirable Crichton" which is best known today as the title of a J.M. Barrie play.
The original Crichton was a true renaissance man. A handsome, noble-born Scot, James Crichton could sing, dance, play musical instruments, played several sports, had a photographic memory and was fluent in 11 languages.
He was also an outstanding swordsman. Travelling to Mantua, Italy, Crichton found the city terrorised by an Italian bullyboy who had killed three local challengers in duels over three days with lethal thrusts to the throat, heart and belly.
Crichton agreed to challenge the unnamed bully and fought with serene skill and grace while his opponent grew ever more frustrated. Crichton wounded the man, first to the throat, then the heart, then the belly.
The Italian died; Crichton gave his share of the purse to the widows of the three challengers.