that sturdy and ponderous swordsmanship, devised and practised by the armour-clad man-at-arms, was really not of much use on a little morning expedition in plain trunk hose and doublet to the Pré-aux-Clercs or to West Smithfield. Nimble tricks had to be learnt; and the hitherto little-thought-of footman was the best: in fact the only available, instructor.

And thus it came to pass that the earliest masters of fence in all countries, namely, the masters of the art of conducting skilfully what was considered as an essentially honourable encounter, were almost invariably to be found among a somewhat dishonoured gentrygladiators, free companions, professional champions, more or less openly recognised, or bravoes of the most uncompromising character.

In Germany, which may be considered the cradle of systematic swordsmanship, these teachers of the sword formed themselves as early as the late fifteenth century into guilds, among which the best known were the Marxbrüder, Marcusbrüder, the Associates of St. Marcus of Löwenberg, which had head-quarters at Frankfurt and branches in all the more important German towns. Similarly, in Spain and in Northern Italy, professional swordsmen were at various times allowed to form themselves into recognised, or at least tolerated, associations.

In England, the class had always been looked upon with especial disfavour by the powers that were, until Henry VIII. (who was a devoted ferrailleur) had likewise the bright idea of turning their obnoxious existence to a disciplined and profitable channel by regularising their position. The most redoubtable of the masters were allowed to form themselves into a company, with powers to increase their numbers with suitable and duly tried men, in imitation of the world-famed German Marcusbrüder. Under these conditions they were granted the lucrative monopoly of teaching the art of fight in England. The enormous privileges that the King, in course of time, conferred on his Corporation of Masters of Defence, very soon enabled it to put down, or absorb, all the more ferocious of independent swashbucklers; and thereby to impart to the profession a moderate degree of respectability under the coat of arms granted by the royal heralds : gules a sword pendant argent.

It was in the bosom of such corporations, abroad and in England, and in the fighting dens of independent swordsmen, therefore, that sprouted the first buds of systematic swordsmanship. Among these professionals, curiously and happily for the historian, there seem to have been a few with a literary turn of mind.

The oldest manuscript of fence belongs to Germany. It deals with the method of carrying out a wager of battle and the tricks of fight recommendable therefor. And pretty gruesome they are as a rule. I refer to Thalhofer's 'Fecht-Buch.' The oldest printed book is likewise German: Ergründung der ritterlicher Kunst der Fechterei, von Andreas Paurnfeindt, Freifechter zu Wien, 1516.' This work, which is exceedingly rare, is a very complete exponent of the ways of using long and short swords to the utmost of their lethal capacity and quite irrespective of any sense of mere decorum. It must have met what would now, in journalistic style, be called a long-felt want,' for it was reproduced (under various attractive titles, very confusing to the bibliographer) in Frankfurt, Augsburg, Strasburg, and finally done into French under the name of 'La noble Science des Joueurs d'Espée,' published in Paris and Antwerp, 1535.

Following the Germans, the oldest printed books of fence are Italian. Thus the first French book on the sword is shown to be a translation from the German. Curiously enough, the second, and perhaps the most notable: 'Le Traité de l'épée seule, mère de toutes armes,' of the Sieur St.-Didier, published in Paris, in 1573, can be shown to be an adaptation of two Italian treatises, the Trattato di Scienza d'arme' of Camillo Agrippa, and Grassi's 'Ragione di adoperar sicuramente l' arme, &c.'

It is about this time-namely, the latter half of the sixteenth century-that we must take up our consideration of the development of sword-play pure and simple. For then a great change is perceptible in the nature and tendency of fence books: they approximate more and more to the consideration of what we now understand by fencing. The older works expounded the art of fight generally, taught the reader a number of valuable, if not always gentlemanly, dodges for overcoming an adversary at all manner of weapons: the lucubrations of fence-masters during the last quarter of the sixteenth century deal almost exclusively with the walking sword, that is the duelling weapon-the rapier, in fact, both with or without its lieutenant, the dagger.

It must be remembered that at this period private duelling and cavalier quarrelsomeness amounted to a perfect mania. The fencing master was no longer merely a teacher of efficacious, if rascally, tricks; he was becoming a model of gallant deportment in the getting in and out of honourable difficulties. In many cases he was even the recognised arbiter on matters of honour. He was often a gentleman himself; at all events he now posed as such,

Although the Germans were always redoubtable adepts at the rougher games of swordsmanship, it is in Italy that we find the first development of that nimbler, more regulated, more cunning, better controlled kind of play which we have learned to associate with the term 'fencing.' It is from Italy that fencing, as a refined art, first spread over Europe: not from Spain, as it has been asserted by many writers. It is in the Italian rapier play of the late sixteenth century that we find the foundation of fencing in the modern sense of the word. The Italians-if we take their early books as evidence, and the fact that their phraseology of fence was adopted by all Europe-were the first to perceive (as soon as the problem of armour-breaking ceased to be the most important one in a fight) the superior capabilities for elegant slaughter possessed by the point as compared with the edge. They accordingly reduced the breadth of their sword, modified the hilt portion thereof to admit of readier thrust action, and relegated the cut to quite a secondary position in their system. With this lighter weapon they devised in course of time that brilliant, cunning, cat-like play known as rapier fence.

The rapier was ultimately adopted everywhere by men of courtly habit; but, in England at least, it was not accepted without murmur and vituperation from the older fighting class of swordsmen, especially from the members and admirers of the English Corporation of Defence Masters.

As a body, Englishmen were as conservative then as they are now. They knew the value of what they had as their own, and distrusted innovations, especially from foreign quarters. The old sword and the buckler were reckoned as your true English weapons: they always went together. In fact, sword-and-buckler play in the sixteenth century was evidently held to be as national a game as boxing in our time-was it not a far more manly, honest and generous manner of settling differences than all your foreign tricky fence, such as rapier and dagger?

Many are the allusions in contemporary dramatic literature to this characteristic national distrust of Continental innovations. There is a passage in Porter's play, 'The Two Angry Women of Abingdon' for instance :- Sword-and-buckler fight,' says a sturdy Briton, in much the same tone of disgust as a lover of fisticuffs might now assume when talking of Mounseer's foil play, 'swordand-buckler fight begins to grow out of use. I am sorry for it. I shall never see good manhood again. If it be once gone, this VOL. XVI.-NO. 95, N.S.

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poking fight with rapier and dagger will come up. Then the tall man (that is a courageous man and a good sword-and-buckler man) will be spitted like a cat or a rabbit!

The long-sword, that is the two-hander, was also an essentially national weapon. It was a right-down, pleasing and sturdy imple. ment, recalling in good steel the vernacular quarterstaff. It required thews and sinews; and, incidentally, much beef and ale. The longsword man looked perhaps with even greater disfavour than the smaller swashbuckler upon the new-fangled bird-spit.' 'Tut, man,' says Justice Shallow, typical laudator of the good bygone days, on hearing of the ridiculous Frenchman's skill with his rapier, 'I could have told you more. In these times In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what; 'tis the heart, Master Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long-sword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.' Did the space at my disposal allow me to do so, I could adduce scores of quotations revealing the popular disgust at the innovations introduced by the fencers' in the art of fight.

Now, the play of sword-and-buckler and of long-sword was no doubt a manly pursuit, and a useful. But, as an everyday companion, the long-sword was incongruous to a fastidious cavalier; and, again, the buckler, indispensable adjunct to the good swashing blade of home production, was hardly more suitable. No doubt, on some discreet night expedition, your gallant might still carry his hand-buckler on his hip over his sword-hilt; but, in Elizabethan days, it is obvious that the buckler was inadmissible as an item of gentlemanly attire. It was accordingly left to the body attendant, and the gallant took kindly to cocking his fine Milanese rapier behind him.

It is not difficult to understand the immense popularity, among the smart set of the time, of this nimble rapier, so much reviled by the older fighting gentry. The rapier, in fact, came in with the taste for 'cavaliero' style, and may be looked upon as its fit outward symbol already in the days of Queen Mary. In Elizabeth's reign it was firmly established as your only gentlemanlike weapon.

The rapier was decidedly a foreigner: yet it suited the Elizabethan age, for it was decorative as well as practical. Its play was decidedly picturesque, fantastic, almost euphuistic, one might say, in comparison with the matter-of-fact hanger of older days. Its phraseology had a quaint, rich, Southern smack, which connoted outlandish experience, and gave those conversant with its intricate

distinctions that marvellous character, at once precious and ruffling, which was so highly appreciated by the cavalier youth of the time. The rapier, in its heyday, was certainly an admirable weapon to look at: a delicious one to wield. And, besides, in proper hands, it was undoubtedly one that was most conclusive. It was, in short, as elegant and deadly as its predecessors were sturdy and brutal.

Space fails me here for going into technicalities. Let it suffice to say that by the time that the most perfect, namely the Italian, rapier fence came to be taught in England-that is during the last third of Elizabeth's reign-the theory of swordsmanship, as applied to single combat, after having passed through many phases of imperfection, was already tolerably simple and practical. (The curious may find the exact story of its evolution in my book, Schools and Masters of Fence.') What may be considered as one of the cardinal actions of regulated sword-play on foot, namely, the lunge, had already been discovered. Although a great many movements, which, according to our modern notions, would be considered not only unnecessary but actually pernicious, still formed part of the system, I doubt whether, on the whole, anything very much better could be devised, even in our present state of knowledge, if we consider the nature of the weapon itself.

I have said that when systematic fence came over to England it was already much simplified; in fact, improvement in this art, from its earliest days down to the present time, seems always to have been in the direction of simplification. Yet, for more than a century from the appearance of the first real treatise, simplification never reached that point which would render impossible the belief in the undoubted efficacy of those secret foins, of that universal parry, of those ineluctable passes, which every master professed to teach. These precious secrets remained long, among a certain shady class of swordsmen, an object of untiring study, carried on with much the same faith and zest as the quest of the alchemist for his powder of projection, or of the merchant-adventurer for El Dorado. It is almost unnecessary to explain at this time of day that there can be no such thing as an insuperable pass, as a secret thrust or parry: every attack can be parried, every parry can be deceived by suitable movements. Yet there was some justification for the belief in the existence of secrets of swordsmanship in days when, as a rule, lessons of fence were given in jealous privacy; constant practice at one particular trick, especially with the long rapier, which required a great deal of muscular strength, might render any