By: Joshua Wiest
Throughout the sixteenth century, authors of fencing manuals utilised a variety of literary conventions to demarcate their technical language from their peers, styles ranging from; the dialogues of dall'Agocchie and Viggiani, to the more vade mecum approach utilised by Marozzo, the Anonimo, and Manciolino. While Marozzo and Manciolino both give general advice pertinent to their schermo at the start to each of their chapters, the Anonimo collassed his discourses on the strategies of fencing in one long introduction. One stylistic choice that sets Manciolino apart from Marozzo is the vibrancy of the intoductions he uses at the outset of each chapter. Manciolino has a whimsical style that sometimes reads as excessive, or honorific; like he’s flaunting his humanist education to bolster his status as a learned man and a worthy teacher. Perhaps it’s fitting given the eclectic nature of his patron, Don Luigi de Cordoba, who enjoyed surrounding himself with famous authors, intellectuals, and notable scholars; men like Pietro Gravina, Baltasar de Castiglione, and Paolo Giovio. The purpose of this brief article is to explore whether or not there is something more to Manciolino’s introductions, to discover if there is a hidden tactical delineation in the poetic introductions of Manciolino’s Opera Nova.
Book one of Manciolino’s New Work gives us the fundamentals, general rules and explanations; guards, cuts, thrusts, and offensive progressions from the various guards. It’s purely basics, and a great place to start for anyone looking to study the Bolognese authors, but book one’s introduction is also the only inauguration without Manciolino’s characteristic poetic prose. Where it gets interesting is book two, which contains three sword and small buckler assalti, progressions of play that teach you how to move with a sword, the book starts off like this:
“Having suitably described the ten famed guards as well as the offenses they may spawn in the previous book, in this second book I will diligently offer instruction in three masterful plays (or assalti) with the sword and small buckler. These will be well-received by students, as they help make the body, the legs and the hands lively and quick. Therefore, he who does not take delight in stepping in tempo and in the way I will teach (and have taught), will enjoy neither grace nor victory in his fencing.” 3
He gives a brief summary of the previous book, and introduces the subject of book two. Learning how to take the fundamental concepts illustrated in book one, and applying them in a graceful flow of actions, ie. learning how to move with a sword.
“Not grace, for just as rich fabrics adorn the charming and lovely Nymphs lightly treading on Mount Menalus or in the Lyceum, so does supple stepping embellish the blows of the dazzling sword. Were our weapon despoiled of its proper steps, it would fall into the darkness of a serene night being orphaned of the stars. And how can white-clad Victory be, where gentle grace is lacking?” 3
This is important, keep this in mind, the charming and lovely Nymphs lightly treading on Mount Menalus or in Lyceum, so does supple stepping embellish the blows of the dazzling sword. He’s already established that the exercises in this book are designed to teach a graceful flow of actions, and to this exercise of grace, we get our lightly treading nymphs.
“We shan’t therefore call him victor who wins by chance and throws random blows like a brutal peasant; nor shall we call vanquished him who proceeds according to the correct teachings. It is indeed more respected among knowledgeable men to lose with poise than to win erratically and outside of any elegance.
The hand of fortune is sometimes found in vile disgrace; but Victory always sits upon a grace that is never tyrannical. I therefore conclude that never will loss visit the polished fencer, even after he perchance receives a hit.” 3
Manciolino affirms the notion that those who do not take delight in the graceful expression of the art will never truly know victory, “And how can white-clad Victory be, where gentle grace is lacking.”
The Anonymous author has this to say about the grace and beauty of wideplay:
“The beauty and grace of the wide play is a great delight to those who see it, derived from performing graceful blows with the arms fully extended as swiftly as possible, followed by fine turns of the body accompanied with brisk steps and lovely and graceful turns of the hand, namely molinetti and tramazzoni, and lovely swift extended falsi, so that to those who watch and behold such motions of the body it would seem that he who does such miraculous things could do naught else than throw those graceful blows at distance, accompanied by those agile steps that produce such marvellous delight.” 4
This is affirmed later by Giovanni dall’Agocchie, in 1572, when his muse Lepido asks him why the fencing of the day is more narrow:
“I believe that they who say so err greatly, because what new blows have the moderns discovered that don’t derive their origins from times passed? I find that all the guards, the blows, and every other thing that is used in these times was being used as well in the time of the ancients. Therefore I don’t know how to consider it otherwise than that they mean that the fencing of today is very restricted compared to the ancient sort. To show how much value there is in the argument that there are new usages can be recognized by this: that the ancient masters knew it excellently, but rather their foundation was based upon closing to the half sword. But since this is a difficult thing which cannot be used without cleverness and great art, they reserved it to teach until the last, and not at the beginning, as do these new masters, many of whom, I believe, fool themselves. Because, as the sages say, you always have to teach the easy things at the beginning, and the difficult ones at the end. If, therefore, the ancients were using the long play, they were doing so with reason and were judging excellently, because with it one renders the arm and the body more limber together, throws blows long and with measure, and a man is made more agile and of good grace.” 1
The period perspective seems to be unanimous across the landscape of a century, wideplay is graceful and beautiful to watch, it’s an expression of the art that is delightful to the spectator. What dall’Agocchie alludes to, also seems to highlight the concurrence of a tactical philosophy, a pedagogical approach to fencing that is sometimes overlooked, or not quite respected by modern readers, yet is presented by all of the core authors in the Bolognese tradition, “that the ancient masters knew it excellently (wide play), but rather their foundation was based upon closing to the half sword.”
Manciolino and Marozzo both teach three sword and small buckler assalti, Manciolino’s are a full progression of play (ie. they demonstrate a fight from beginning to end), starting with an embellishment, an entrance into measure, an attack, and an exit from play. Marozzo divides his assalti into modes of fencing, an embellishment accompanied by wide play actions, followed by a lesson on how to enter into mezza spada from wide play, or as he says, "(the assalti) will proceed to the half-sword and its strette", and his final chapter deals with the mezza-spada plays where he demonstrates strette and prese techniques.
Manciolino saves his stretta or mezza-spada techniques for their own book, book three. He opens the book by leaping straight into prose, introduces a new set of characters that provide a twist to his colourful dialogue, and brings life to dall'Agocchie's nascent observations.
“Much more joyful than our martial plays are the assalti that rough-haired Satyrs conduct toward hunting Nymphs in the pages of poetry books. Those subjects are so fine that words compose themselves for the poet, in a sweet and ever-flowing style.” 3
“Much more joyful than our martial plays are the assalti that rough-haired Satyrs conduct toward hunting Nymphs in the pages of poetry books.” These rough-haired Satyrs are hunting Nymphs, remember the Nymphs? “Not grace, for just as rich fabrics adorn the charming and lovely Nymphs lightly treading on Mount Menalus or in the Lyceum, so does supple stepping embellish the blows of the dazzling sword.” Let’s learn more about our antagonists:
“When bards attempt to tell of goat-gods’ wooly limbs, their horny brows, their gestures so licentious, words are not compos’d, but hues on canvas paint their rustic charge, while breathless Nymphs a-flee. One lifts her purple gown above her milky knee, as braids of golden hair cascade upon her chest, and quiet breezes blow and part her locks so fine. And others plunge in rivers sheer and fluid, where shelter lays (they hope) for their unsullied flow’r, Diana’s ward. And others yet, now conquer’d by fatigue, in shrubs and bushes do their safety seek; their faces quite like blooms as Dawn begins to appear, the drops of pearly sweat they clear, with snow-white hands and fingers slight, regaining their lost wind.” 3
We get this harrowing image of breathless Nymphs fleeing before the rustic charge of the Satyrs, seeking shelter wherever it can be found, fearing that their innocence will be lost. If the grace and beauty of wide play is analogous with the gentle grace of the Nymphs, surely our rough-haried Satyrs are representative of the directness of mezza-spada. It reminds me of a quote from the Anonimo Bolognese:
“Everyone must know and understand that in this ingenious art of the sword one finds two ways of fighting. These are the wide play and the narrow play and take note that both can be used safely. If you wish to be a good fencer, then you must understand that if you were fighting against one that understands the narrow play, should you try to fight against him from the wide play, then your talent will be confounded; and so if you find yourself against one who is good at the wide play, then it is necessary for you to fight him from the narrow play, as you prefer.” 4
Perhaps more to the point is this lovely anecdote from Achille Marozzo which highlights the dichotomy of the hunt:
“Theoretically speaking, let’s say there are two fencers who are fencing together, one of who has only learned the wide play, whereas the other has learned both the wide and narrow play. The one who has only learned the wide play will retreat the entire length of the school, whereas the one who has learned both the wide and the narrow play (Strette) will chase the aforesaid the entire distance thereof. So for this reason, I advise you to tell your students that they need to learn both of the said plays together, for their utility.” 2
“When bards attempt to tell of goat-gods’ wooly limbs, their horny brows, their gestures so licentious, words are not compos’d, but hues on canvas paint their rustic charge, while breathless Nymphs a-flee.” To which he continues, “And others yet, now conquer’d by fatigue, in shrubs and bushes do their safety seek; their faces quite like blooms as Dawn begins to appear, the drops of pearly sweat they clear, with snow-white hands and fingers slight, regaining their lost wind.”
Diane Chasing Satyrs by Nicolas Chaperon
Manciolino is using his mythical discourse to enlighten us of the perils of various modes of fencing. The beautiful Nymphs, Diana’s ward, are a perfect metaphor for wide play fencing, and the Satyrs, mezza spada. The presence of Diana in Manciolino’s alliteration is a master's touch. Diana, or Artemis in Greek, was the goddess of the hunt, protector of the nymphs, she carried a bow with a quiver of golden arrows, a projectile weapon best utilised at distance, just as wide play actions themselves are best performed at a distance. To the Satyr, the brutish yet clever representation of man’s worst carnal desires, half man, half beast, these monstrosities of the proto-indo european imagination are perfect analogs for the depraved humanity and shrewd intellect required to effectively drive mezza spada techniques.
Manciolino continues his discourse on the nature of mezza-spada after a beleaguered aside where he highlights the challenges of being a ‘great’ writer and having to submit to the redundancy of the language required to write a competent fencing manual, namely, how many ways can you say left or right without using left or right redundantly:
“Going back to our subject, I will devote this third book to the art of the half sword. As you fence against your opponent, you will often get to the narrow play or strette in such a way that it would be best for you to play at the half sword. But this requires a sharp mind and a great deal of art. This type of play is first among all others.
He who does not understand it perfectly and does not have an excellent foundation in it will never be a good Master. No matter how good a fencer, how skilled in the defense and how quick with his hands, he will be unable to teach the true art to others, since the true art consists in being strongest and most resilient. Rather than knowledgeable, these fencers should more aptly be considered to be lucky when they score a hit.” 3
We see the value that Manciolino puts in the mezza-spada techniques in his conclusion of book three's introduction. He aspouses the virtue of the mezza spada, calling it the true art, one that requires the highest level of acuity and sense to execute, and a foundation for which a master can not neglect. Marozzo furthers this sentiment with the following:
“Here I will present the third assault, which will diaplay the art of the half-sword. I do so because those who wish to teach know that the art of the ahlf-sword is the best part of fencing, and those who teach or believe themselves to be good fencers but don’t know the aforesaid art lack a solid foundation. Therefore, I want you to know that it is the foundation of the art of fencing, not just with the small buckler, but also all other kinds of weapons, with pole arms as well as with single-handed edged weapons. Thus I counsel you to present these things only to men who have good hearts, because they will do them without any concern, and will be the ones who will do you honor; but as for those who seem to you not to have such character, present them the things that are found in the first assault (wide play), because if you were to try to teach them such things as are found in the second and third assaults, you would drive them away, because they might not have sufficient spirit to do them.” 2
To tie these two descriptions together, and add the brush strokes that will breathe life into our mythical Satyrs, we turn to the Anonimo:
“Often it happens that one fighter will be graceful and polite with the sword in hand, yet nevertheless it does not serve him well when he finds himself against another fighter who fights brutishly with his sword. And so, the graceful fighter upon coming to grips with one that fights brutishly does not perceive that the brutish fighter will come out on top, because the brute cares only for utility and does not give a damn for beautiful play as his mind focuses upon only what will work and dispenses with all pompous displays. There are those that stay polite with the sword in hand and delight in refinement, and so not focus upon utility. Therefore it is necessary for any fighter coming to grips with this opponent to have good judgement about his opponent, because so often it happens that fighter who will play politely and gallantly, others will say he fights well even though his play is not useful, and so it will often happen that regarding the one that fights brutishly they will say he does not know how to hold his sword and that he will not be a good fighter, and will not defeat the pretty fencer when skills are put to the test.” 4
So, who are we supposed to be, polite and graceful, or brutish; Nymph or Satyr. Manciolino and Marozzo both say the greatest art lies in the skills possessed by whom the Anonimo would call a brute, yet grace and art are our only path to victory by Manciolino's aforementioned standards. For greater insight, we’ll have to continue on into book four’s introduction:
“Noble reader, I consider it necessary at this juncture to explain my earlier declaration that I would leave this work bare of any literary ornament. If you examine the matter closely, you can but admit that there are many things which we deem praiseworthy in one situation while considering them utterly unfit for another.
…who could fail to express sweet approbation for a baby’s first blabber? Yet, the same talk from an adult would cause us to laugh and doubt the person’s sanity.Thus, we can say that something is laudable or despicable not in itself, but rather in relation to the person or thing of which it is an attribute.” 3
Manciolino addresses this very question, and gives us a series of parables to justify his claim. “You can but admit that there are many things which we deem praiseworthy in one situation while considering them utterly unfit for another”. Understand the context?
“Likewise, he who fails to praise the splendid colors of polished literature, the elegance of well-composed speech, and the harmony of poetry would be rightfully deemed insensible. Yet, it would be equally insensible to adopt the same form of speech in a topic for which it is unfit. Therefore, a wise writer always creates characters who speak and reply in a manner befitting their condition. It would not be proper for a mature person of years to either dress as an adolescent or flirt like one. Just as improper would be for a man of arms, rust-stained from the constant donning of armor, to utter debonair sounds with the same tongue that is so accustomed to debilitating thirst and hunger and to the dust that forever saturates the spacious martial field—unless that speech was the one delivered by the magnanimous Ajax against the sagacious Odysseus.
That speech Ajax gave before all Grecian princes, in the occasion of a contest between the two heroes for the arms of great Achilles. Ajax displayed the disposition of a noble soldier, Odysseus that of a consummate orator. And even if Odysseus’ speech had been despoiled of its persuasive tones, it would still have surpassed that of Ajax. Nay, it would have been like Diana stripped of her precious ornaments or like Venus standing next to Pales, the ever-nude and fair goddess of shepherds.” 3
Therefore, a wise writer always creates characters who speak and reply in a manner befitting their condition. Now we come to Manciolino’s point. Who are we supposed to be as consummate fencers, well-trained in the art of the Bolognese authors? Are we to be a Nymph or a Satyr? We’re called to be neither. Manciolino draws us to a concise conclusion, and lays it out for us succinctly. We’re called to be writers, orators, authors, or poets; we’re called to be artists. A writer has the unique privilege of understanding both the mind of the vile Satyr, and that of the beautiful Nymph, without ever becoming the embodiment of either. Through the passage of verse, they can flow through the consciousness of both, and emerge unscathed by complexities of their character. We are the omnipotent beings that can act with either mind without ever being. The Anonimo characterises the mindset of the perfect fencer like this:
“A fighter with sword in hand must be proud and haughty, of a nature that is both clever and malicious, and he that will possess the greater surfeit of these qualities will overcome his foe. He that will secure his honor needs to bedeck himself in steadfastness, and he that will acquire honor shall not fear toil, and he that wishes to become a warrior shall be wicked, false and deceitful. His attacks will be artful, made in the correct tempo, with a joyful spirit, and always seeking a way to seize the initiative. That same man who wants to handle weapons must no be ignorant lest he hand his opponent an easy victory, for so many die from ignorance, and even if one has the heart of lion, it shall not be adequate to overcome ignorance.” 4
But these modes of fencing represent more than just choleric and sanguine expressions of temperament. Bringing the discussion back to the strategic insight of Manciolino’s bimetric illustration, we again turn to MSS Ravenna M-345 and 346, the Anonimo Bolognese:
“And to render this more simply to those who wish to understand the art of defense, if you wish to use the full array of techniques and guards and all of your understanding, then when you run across a fencer that fights in the narrow play, then you will act as though you plan to fence in the wide play, and then astutely strike him from the narrow play; and so too, if you find a fencer that fences from the wide play, you should act as though you intend to fence in the narrow play, but actually strike him with an attack from the wide play; and thus if you have the true art and someone fences from the wide play you can hit him in the wide play, and likewise if you find someone fencing in the narrow play, you will strike him from the said narrow play.” 4
It would be equally insensible to adopt the same form of speech in a topic for which it is unfit. Therefore, a wise writer always creates characters who speak and reply in a manner befitting their condition. Speak with the voice of the occasion. Whether or not Manciolino intended for his voracious introductions to be a cascading metaphor for duality of his schermo, we can still find wisdom in his prose. To that end, dear reader, I'll leave you with Manciolino's words at the end of book four's introduction, and let you decide if this is a hidden code, or simply boisterous dalliance:
"With this, I wish to conclude that although I do not come before you as an orator, my speech will not be so rough as to be unworthy of comparison with that of other modern, more polished works—if not from its outside, at least underneath its surface." 3
The Title Page of Manciolino’s Opera Nova
1. W. Jherek Swanger, Giovanni dall’Agocchie, Dell’Arte di Scrimia, The Art of Defense: on Fencing, the Joust, and Battle Formation, lulu press, May 5, 2018: Link
2. W. Jherek Swanger, Achille Marozzo, Opera Nova, The Duel, or the Flower of Arms for Single Combat, Both Offensive and Defensive, lulu press, April 22, 2018: Link
3. Tom Leoni, Antonio Manciolino, Opera Nova, The Complete Renaissance Swordsman, Freelance Academy Press, July, 2010: Link
4. Stephen Fratus, Anonimo Bolognese, With Malice & Cunning: Anonymous 16th Century Manuscript on Bolognese Swordsmanship, lulu press, Februrary 18, 2020: Link