XI.
“There is one last objection that I will anticipate.
“What, I may be asked, becomes of your scheme of defence, if, the moment that the novice extends his sword at a venture, the adversary engages it?
“Without a doubt that is what he ought to do, and what he will do, as I shall presently explain. But you do not imagine, I suppose, that a man completely ignorant of the use of his weapon, who goes to a professor for advice on the eve of an encounter, can hope to come away comforted with the assurance that he has learnt the whole art of how to hit his opponent without being touched himself? That, I fancy, would be too convenient. It would be better then to study the art of not learning to fence, instead of spending months and years in studying the art of fencing. Ignorance would indeed be bliss and wisdom folly.
“The man who has not learnt the use of the weapon to which he entrusts his life, may think himself lucky if he can lessen the chances, to which he is exposed, of a fatal issue. The master can hope to accomplish nothing more than to give his pupil some confidence, and show him the only course that can be commended by common sense and at the same time furnishes some sort of defence.
“If the novice does what he is told he will, I repeat, put difficulties and dangers in the way of his opponent; he will force him to act with caution, he will keep him at long range, and compel him to shift his ground when he attacks. In shifting his ground he may, either through carelessness or in the excitement of the moment, leave himself uncovered, and give an opening to the point that is continually directed at him. But I do not for a moment suppose that a wary and experienced fencer, who keeps his head cool, will not easily defeat such elementary strategy.
“You may tell your pupil to be prudent, you may tell him to be calm and resolute, but now or never you should add the pious wish ‘Heaven help you’.”