We have used a variety of treatises and other materials over the years to guide our historical weapons practices, as I assume have many other clubs. We've drawn on many of the common and well-known treatises, typically well illustrated, to help us in learning how to use the Longsword in proper historical ways.
Lately, we have been using the Nuremberg Hausbuch (MS 3227a) as our main guiding historical document for Longsword practice. I personally feel Nuremberg is an absolute gem, a treasure within the HEMA library, but one often overlooked. Today I'd like to spend some time discussing this rather unique and actually quite delightful book.
First of all, a little background: As you can read in this article from Wiktenauer, the Nuremberg is an example of what is called a "common book," or Hausbuch in German. Common books were basically a catch-all notebook, or perhaps scrab book, that folks kept on topics that interested them; think of common books as the Medieval equivalent of Pinterest. They'd jot down notes, descriptions, explanations, etc., on any number of disparate and utterly unrelated topics.
This makes a great deal of sense coming from a time when books were rare and expensive. It was far easier to take notes on subjects of interest to you and keep that all in one book rather than trying to acquire a library of these various subjects. The Nuremberg, for instance, has sections devoted to Longsword, grappling, dagger, and a few other common fighting arts of the time, but it also has sections on astrology, alchemy, improving the quality of metal, recipes for paint, and several magical recipes and spells. These common books truly were catch-alls of the individuals' varied interests.
What that means is one of the charms of the Nuremberg is you don't get the feel of a Master boasting of his implacable skills nor of a slick advertisement as you read it, but rather of a person chatting with you individually about their interest in an intimate, almost personal way. We don't know who wrote it or why exactly they needed this information on fighting, but what you have is essentially a person taking notes on the art for themselves to use, reminders regarding what to do and, more importantly, how to do it, and then sharing that information with you.
So the value to be found in Nuremberg isn't that it is the work of a known Master, nor is it a treatise demonstrating with illustrations the various moves we need to know, but rather that is the personal reflection of one who, presumably, actually used these skills. As I highlighted above, the most important thing isn't the repetition of the well-known Zettel -- although, there is indeed a word for word copy of it in Nuremberg -- but rather a detailed explanation of how we do the things we're told to do, even in regards to footwork.
But perhaps more important than the chatty, intimate nature of the writing, or the helpful explanations of how we do this art, the value of Nuremberg is in the repeated sections that discuss the attitude with which we are to fight with Longsword. Taken all together, Nuremberg presents a massively useful tool in our educational arsenal.
The advice sections launch immediately a discussion of how the art of Liechtenauer -- who, to add to the delightful nature of this book, might have been alive when it was written, but more on that later -- was developed long before him, approximately 100 years before. Then the useful advice really begins:
"And this very art is honestly real and true and it is about moving straight and simple, to the nearest target, taking the most direct way. For example, if someone intends to strike or thrust, it goes just like if a string would be attached to the sword and the tip or edge would be pulled to an opening of the adversary - who should be the target for the strike or thrust - resulting in taking the shortest way to the nearest target as possibly. That is why the same true fencing will never employ beautiful and wide parries nor large round moves which are just useful to entertain spectators."
The writer here is discussing both how to do something and the attitude to have while doing it. Note that he tells us to move "straight and simple," aiming for the open target with an impetus that makes it look like our sword is being yanked by a string. However, he also makes it clear that we want to have an attitude of deadly seriousness -- as Longsword fights as this time indeed often were -- and to put aside the large, sweeping, lovely looking moves in preference of small, direct, and potentially killer moves.
He goes on with further discussion on this topic, and more detail on the attitude aspect of it:
"They (the false masters) practice wide and beautiful parries and swings when they begin to fence for show, and execute long and far-reaching strikes slowly and clumsily and by doing this they miss and cannot recover again quickly – and thus exposing themselves easily. That is because they don’t have control and measure in their fencing; this really is not part of serious fencing. For school fencing and for practice using this may be useful, but serious fencing moves simply, directly and straight, without any hesitation and pause, just like a string or like everything would be exactly measured and calculated."
Our moves are to be small, fast, and deadly. This is not only the sign of a well-trained and true fencer but also the evidence of one who can actually control their blade, according to the author. But also note the "without any hesitation and pause" part, because this is absolutely vital.
This, more than anything, is the attitude part, a part which I personally find to be of high value. When you attack, you attack the nearest opening and you attack in absolute earnest. If your blade gets stopped, it doesn't matter. Feel the pressure in a heartbeat, see the next opening, and attack there; if you get stopped, feel, then attack. Feel again, then attack again. And attack. And attack and attack and attack.
You keep attacking until your blade lands in an opening, until your opponent feels overwhelmed with your constant rapid attacks and gives you an opening, or in the modern setting, they step beyond the fighting circle. Either way, you don't concern yourself one iota with your blade being put aside, and you just keep attacking relentlessly until your blade lands true.
As the Nuremberg writer says:
"If someone intends to strike or thrust another who stands in front of him, no strike or thrust in any other direction or wide swings or many strikes will help. If he wants to bring it to a quick end, and yet hesitates and is slow, he should just leave the Schantze (place of combat)!...Therefore, he must instantly strike simply and directly to the man, at his head or body right to the nearest and most accessible target that he may reach there. And this he should do quickly and nimbly and better with one strike than with four or six, or spending precious time by looking and analyzing. Also move lightly and nimbly."
So in other words, if you're not going to fight like you want to win just go home! Just find your opening and attack, and do so lightly and nimbly.
In further terms of attitude or proper mindset for a fighter, the Nuremberg writer says:
"Also know, when one wants to fence in earnest, he should plan a ready technique, whichever he like, and that technique should be complete and well-practiced. And he should take this seriously into his mind and will, just if he should say “That I want to do”. And then he must gain the initiative and with the help of God it will not fail. He succeeds in doing what he should do, if he bravely hurries and rushes in with the Vorschlag..."
To my training as a therapist, this sounds very much like the somewhat recently developed Warrior Mind Training that is offered to combat veterans, though the precepts of this mindset are ancient and should really not come as anything new to us. (You can read more about WMT here, here, and here.) But what this passage speaks to, ultimately, is the long-practiced and intentionally-developed thinking pattern of the warrior, and though it is more commonly associated with the Asian traditions, the European warrior needed that intense clarity of thought as well.
This is the deep breath before fighting; the clearing, calming, and quieting of the mind; the opening of one's perceptions that allows you to look nowhere specifically and yet take in everything collectively. It is the freeing of the mind to let the body fly of its own will, the freedom that allows you to see a target and to launch your attack without clumsy calculating, or worry, or hesitation, or concern. It is you being your true, focused, warrior-minded self.
It is also a great deal of training and very disciplined work. But you can obviously take heart in the fact that is was a great deal of disciplined work in the day of the Nuremberg, or else the writer wouldn't have included this bit of advice.
"...Also move lightly and nimbly."
As you read Nuremberg you will see the writer on several occasions exhorts the fencer to be very light of foot, to be able to move swiftly. In this, he gives perhaps the best bit of advice lacking in so many other works: How best to move on our feet!
Her further writes:
"Also know when it comes to fencing one against another, he should be well aware of the adversary’s steps and be secure and well-trained with his own, just like he would be standing on scales. So he can step backwards or forwards, as appropriate, be adaptive and tread sparingly but also quickly and nimbly. Your fencing should be accompanied with a positive and resolute attitude and also with wits and your common sense and without any fear."
As clear as Nuremberg is overall, this passage does take a little bit of interpretation. We have taken this to mean that the fencer is to tread lightly with great balance and control, leading to a light, swift step. The way we practice that is to very deliberately focus on toe steps and toe standing; that's killer on the calves but so much better for the nimble footwork. When we move from position to position we do it such a way that our balance remains always centered, so we can shift suddenly forward and back, left and right, without feeling like we're about to stumble.
The writer also makes clear that when we need to advance quickly we should maintain this well-balanced and controlled style, even if we need to run to get our opponent. In his words:
"Also you need control and measure in your fencing as it is appropriate and you should not step too far, forwards or backwards, so that you don’t lose time while recovering from your first step. So you still can step as appropriate. Also it is often advisable to do two small steps instead of one long step, and often it is necessary that one has to do a little run with many small steps."
So if you have to advance quickly you should advance in a small step, toe-running style. Better to take several fast, small steps to get to your opponent while maintaining your control rather than big steps that make it almost impossible to suddenly change direction.
The writer also gives an interesting bit of advice, one that I think is particularly useful to us in a general way:
"Also know and note that one cannot really talk about fencing in a meaningful manner or explain it with written words, as some might like. You can only show it and instruct it by hand. So use all your senses and pay close attention to the art and practice it more for fun and play. so it will be ready for you faster for fencing seriously. That is because practice is better than art, your practice may very well be useful without art, but your art is useless without practice."
I find it interesting that, even as the writer talks about fencing, he writes how you can't talk about fencing in a meaningful manner. He's quite right. The various treatises are invaluable, the interpretive books that have been published over the years are helpful, and our little blog here is fun, but you don't learn how to fight by reading about it. You need to get out and do it.
Take note, as the modern student of HEMA: you need to get out and do it. If you want to learn how to fight Longsword, get a Longsword and start fighting. Use the HEMA Alliance club finder page to locate a club near you, then go there to practice and study with them. If there are none close enough to make regular training feasible, see if you can find just one other person a reasonable distance away with whom you can study and train. If you are truly in the middle of nowhere, then grab that Longsword and practice as much as you possibly can. Put a pell in the ground so you at least can practice your strikes against it. Practice every day. And, regardless of where you are or what you're doing, you can practice a balanced, well-controlled style of nimble moving.
Get out there and do it. Or, in other words: "...practice is better than art, your practice may very well be useful without art, but your art is useless without practice." From this I take it to mean arguing about the nuanced ways in which one might hold the sword for this or that position is fine, but when it comes down to it if you're not practicing on a regular basis all of your hypothetical discussions are academic, irrelevant fluff.
I could go on and on about the high regard in which I hold the Nuremberg, but I'm honestly only several paragraphs into the first section of fencing advice! Perhaps this book requires a longer, more detailed dissection, but before I wrap up this blog post I just want to mention a few of the smaller details about Nuremberg that, to me, makes it so delightful.
First of all, as I mentioned earlier it is possible it was written while Master Leichtenauer was still living. Assuming the translations are correct and accurate (which, considering the fact it's on Wiktenauer, I feel very comfortable they are) many of the phrases are worded in such a way that it sounds like a living person is being referred to. Sometimes as you read it you get the feeling the writer actually knew Leichtenauer himself, and when he writes about the Master he's writing about someone known and dear to him. That's purely conjecture on my part, but entirely feasible nonetheless.
Regardless of whether that fact is true or not, the writer does give a tantalizing detail about Leichtenauer's career when he writes, "It is not the case that he invented this art...but he has traveled many lands, willing to learn and experience the same real and true art." This means that Leichtenauer was a journeyman at one point and that he trained into a pre-established system of Longsword use. He may clearly have adapted certain points to create the system we now have, but I find it fascinating to think there was this long-developed art long before Leichtenauer ever hefted a sword.
Related to that is the time frame of the book itself, and the assertion that the Longsword "art may have been developed some hundred years ago." The stated range for Nuremberg is anywhere from 1389 to 1494; 1289 seems a little early, though hardly impossible, for Longsword to have been practiced widely in Europe, while 1394 is too late for it to "have been developed." So even if we take a middle road and say Nuremberg was written in 1450, then Longsword was being developed in the 1350s, a period not typically associated with the art. For someone like me, who is attracted to HEMA as much for the history as the martial arts, I find this little detail to be thrilling.
A final bit about the Nuremberg I'm going to mention is that through the writer's various notes and exhortations to the reader, he paints a good picture of what the "common fencer" looked like. By drawing on some of the things written above, we can surmise the common fencer was not very light on his feet, tended to attack clumsily, fearfully, and to immediately fall back everytime an attack was put aside. From other sections of the book not included in this post, we can assume he held the pommel while fighting and wasn't well acquainted with the Meisterhauen.
One particular note the writer includes tells us much about what a common fencer looked like:
"Also know that one should move to someone’s right side with his attacks instead of moving directly in from the front, because, when one knows of this method, practices and succeeds in doing this in all fencing or wrestling, he certainly is not a bad fencer."
If this step, what we now refer to as the "Triangle Step," was not normally done by fencers, why would the author have included it? I don't believe he would have. I get the feeling this was either one of Leichtenauer's innovations or was something an untrained fencer didn't know to do. At either rate, we can add to the description of the common fencer as one who rushed directly in to make a basic overhead chop attack, making either an Absetzen or Versetzen with a step to the right an easy counter.
Kind of makes the powerful center line grab, especially with Zorn, make a whole lot more sense now, doesn't it?
Alright, folks. Like I said, since we first started using the Nuremberg as our primary document I have developed a deep love and appreciation for this little book, and could go on and on and on about it. But for now I'm going to wrap up this brief sketch on a tool I would strongly suggest everyone get to know better.
Have you ever worked with Nuremberg before? What do you like most about it? Has it changed the way you fight? Do you like the more personal, chatty style of the writer or do you prefer the formal instructions of a Master's fechtbuch?
Stay loose and train hard.
-- Scott
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