Post by Admin on Apr 27, 2020 2:51:46 GMT
Actualistic Weapon Tests
Like the controlled tests discussed above, the actualistic weapon tests (AWTs) aimed to recreate prehistoric one-on-one sword fighting. However, they were not informed by the need to generate combat marks for wear analysis, but intended to test the capabilities of Bronze Age swords and combatants as an integrated functional unit, as would happen in real-life fencing. Creating marks on the weapons was simply a useful by-product of the experiment, not its ultimate goal. As in the approaches advocated by Molloy (2007, 2008) and Gentile and van Gijn (2019), our AWTs fell between what Mathieu (2002) labelled ‘functional replication’ and ‘phenomenological studies’. The term ‘actualistic’, introduced by Molloy (2008) and Outram (2008), describes an experimental setup that ‘investigates activities that might have happened in the past using methods and materials that would actually have been available’ (Outram 2008: 2; original text) through scenarios that are designed to be as close to real life as possible.
In such an approach, the functional controls that validate the accuracy of the analogy between ancient and experimental fighting are the morphology and mechanical properties of the weapon plus the biomechanical properties of the human body (Molloy 2008: 118). Weapon and body are understood here as a single biomechanical unit that is controlled by internalised cultural norms, instinctual responses rooted in neurological processes, and embodied practice (Malafouris 2008; Yun 2009). Here lies a crucial difference between the CWTs and AWTs: in the former, the human body operated the weapon but did not provide any knowledge-based inputs beside experienced handling and fine motor skills. The AWTs, on the other hand, were informed by bodily grounded knowledge about how to use a sword, which had been attuned through many years’ learning and training. An important implication of this approach to the AWTs is that the tests had to be anchored to a predetermined body of knowledge acting as a methodological ‘scaffold’. As with other experiential weapon tests, we selected a historic fencing manual: the 1452 Commentary by Andre Lignitzer on Sword and Buckler from folios 80r-80v, Codex 44.A.8, by Peter von Danzig (see Farrell 2012 for an English translation). Lignitzer’s Commentary was interpreted through both academic scholarship and contemporary practice of Historic European Martial Arts (HEMA). HEMA is a growing international movement that strives to understand, practise, and popularise (mostly) late medieval and Renaissance combat treatises through scholarship and knowledgeable re-enactment (Anglo 2000; Clements 1997, 1998; Forgeng 2003; Talhoffer 2000; Wagner and Hand 2003).
We chose this treatise for several reasons. Firstly, the weapons described in it—short swords and bucklers (small round shields)—are typologically similar to the swords and shield replicas used in our tests, although the materials are different. Secondly, while the Commentary does not contain any images, it provides detailed descriptions of the combat actions, unlike many other sources from the time, which mainly rely on depictions. Thirdly, the Commentary has long been studied by various scholars, who have proposed broadly similar interpretations for the combat actions described therein (e.g. Warzecha 2017; Griswold 2016; Winslow and Winslow 2011). This gave us confidence that our tests would be grounded in accepted specialist knowledge. Working with distinguished HEMA specialists Robert Brooks and Andrew Milburn (Hotspur School of Defence), we replicated five combat sequences out of the six described in the Commentary (plays one to five, Table 3). The sixth play is designed to take the opponent’s shield and does not involve any sword contact; as such, it was left out of the protocol (Fig. 4).
Fig. 4
To overcome the complications of in-field recording experienced during the CWTs, we decided to hire an indoor location (St. Luke’s Church hall, Newcastle upon Tyne), which provided us with a safe and sheltered space to conduct the AWTs. We were also able to set up an in situ microscopy laboratory in a side room of the church hall, where full identification and recording of marks took place immediately after each combat sequence. This offset the risk that later plays would cause earlier marks to be erased or damaged. The combatants fought with two brand new Ewart Park replica swords (exact copies of the replicas used during the CWTs) and the two Cloonbrin replica leather shields used in the previous experiments. They practised each play repeatedly with wooden training swords before carrying out the tests. Although plays 1 to 4 were only conducted once each, the individual actions are often repeated in the different plays (e.g. Versetzen appears in four of the five plays; see ‘Bulge’). This ensured a better understanding of mark formation processes. The fifth play was conducted twice, as the first attempt created no marks on either sword and we wished to rule out that this was just a chance occurrence. During the live tests, the combatants wore personal protective equipment consisting of fencing masks, thick padded gambesons, and steel-clad gauntlets. Videos and photographs of the combat sequences were taken with a SONY Cyber-shot DSCH300B Bridge Camera and Olympus Stylus Touch, respectively. The AWT experimental protocol is described in Table 3.
The AWTs featured several notable strengths complementing those of the CWTs. First, they were firmly grounded in fifteenth century swordsmanship, which is characterised by high degrees of sophistication and finesse (Gassmann et al.2017: 119). This, we posited, would provide a compelling historical analogy for Late Bronze Age sword fighting, which, like its late medieval counterpart, stood at the cusp of a sword fighting tradition going back several hundred years. Secondly, the AWTs did not subject the weapons to the same mechanical stresses as the CWTs. This ensured excellent cutting edge preservation throughout the combat sequences, allowing us to complete all actions planned. Finally, we were able to microscopically record the combat marks on the swords immediately after each fighting sequence; thanks to the ‘flying laboratory’, we had set up next to the experimental hall.
As for the limitations of our AWTs, the most notable was the difficulty to identify exactly which mark was caused by which action during a combat sequence. The problem was partly offset by keeping the sequences short (typically 4 s) and using high-speed cameras and digital photography, supported by inputs from the combatants, to understand which action had caused which mark. Another notable disadvantage of the AWTs was their being tied to a specific historic fencing style. This presented a significant risk of circularity in test design, data generation, and data interpretation, whereby we would make certain preconceived assumptions about how Bronze Age swords would be used; we would test the swords based on these assumptions; and, with perhaps the odd exception, we would demonstrate our assumptions experimentally. This is one of the greatest risks of grounding prehistoric weapon testing in historic sources. We knowingly offset this risk not only by comparing and contrasting the marks generated by both actualistic and controlled tests but also by validating both through the wear analysis of archaeological swords.
Like the controlled tests discussed above, the actualistic weapon tests (AWTs) aimed to recreate prehistoric one-on-one sword fighting. However, they were not informed by the need to generate combat marks for wear analysis, but intended to test the capabilities of Bronze Age swords and combatants as an integrated functional unit, as would happen in real-life fencing. Creating marks on the weapons was simply a useful by-product of the experiment, not its ultimate goal. As in the approaches advocated by Molloy (2007, 2008) and Gentile and van Gijn (2019), our AWTs fell between what Mathieu (2002) labelled ‘functional replication’ and ‘phenomenological studies’. The term ‘actualistic’, introduced by Molloy (2008) and Outram (2008), describes an experimental setup that ‘investigates activities that might have happened in the past using methods and materials that would actually have been available’ (Outram 2008: 2; original text) through scenarios that are designed to be as close to real life as possible.
In such an approach, the functional controls that validate the accuracy of the analogy between ancient and experimental fighting are the morphology and mechanical properties of the weapon plus the biomechanical properties of the human body (Molloy 2008: 118). Weapon and body are understood here as a single biomechanical unit that is controlled by internalised cultural norms, instinctual responses rooted in neurological processes, and embodied practice (Malafouris 2008; Yun 2009). Here lies a crucial difference between the CWTs and AWTs: in the former, the human body operated the weapon but did not provide any knowledge-based inputs beside experienced handling and fine motor skills. The AWTs, on the other hand, were informed by bodily grounded knowledge about how to use a sword, which had been attuned through many years’ learning and training. An important implication of this approach to the AWTs is that the tests had to be anchored to a predetermined body of knowledge acting as a methodological ‘scaffold’. As with other experiential weapon tests, we selected a historic fencing manual: the 1452 Commentary by Andre Lignitzer on Sword and Buckler from folios 80r-80v, Codex 44.A.8, by Peter von Danzig (see Farrell 2012 for an English translation). Lignitzer’s Commentary was interpreted through both academic scholarship and contemporary practice of Historic European Martial Arts (HEMA). HEMA is a growing international movement that strives to understand, practise, and popularise (mostly) late medieval and Renaissance combat treatises through scholarship and knowledgeable re-enactment (Anglo 2000; Clements 1997, 1998; Forgeng 2003; Talhoffer 2000; Wagner and Hand 2003).
We chose this treatise for several reasons. Firstly, the weapons described in it—short swords and bucklers (small round shields)—are typologically similar to the swords and shield replicas used in our tests, although the materials are different. Secondly, while the Commentary does not contain any images, it provides detailed descriptions of the combat actions, unlike many other sources from the time, which mainly rely on depictions. Thirdly, the Commentary has long been studied by various scholars, who have proposed broadly similar interpretations for the combat actions described therein (e.g. Warzecha 2017; Griswold 2016; Winslow and Winslow 2011). This gave us confidence that our tests would be grounded in accepted specialist knowledge. Working with distinguished HEMA specialists Robert Brooks and Andrew Milburn (Hotspur School of Defence), we replicated five combat sequences out of the six described in the Commentary (plays one to five, Table 3). The sixth play is designed to take the opponent’s shield and does not involve any sword contact; as such, it was left out of the protocol (Fig. 4).
Fig. 4
To overcome the complications of in-field recording experienced during the CWTs, we decided to hire an indoor location (St. Luke’s Church hall, Newcastle upon Tyne), which provided us with a safe and sheltered space to conduct the AWTs. We were also able to set up an in situ microscopy laboratory in a side room of the church hall, where full identification and recording of marks took place immediately after each combat sequence. This offset the risk that later plays would cause earlier marks to be erased or damaged. The combatants fought with two brand new Ewart Park replica swords (exact copies of the replicas used during the CWTs) and the two Cloonbrin replica leather shields used in the previous experiments. They practised each play repeatedly with wooden training swords before carrying out the tests. Although plays 1 to 4 were only conducted once each, the individual actions are often repeated in the different plays (e.g. Versetzen appears in four of the five plays; see ‘Bulge’). This ensured a better understanding of mark formation processes. The fifth play was conducted twice, as the first attempt created no marks on either sword and we wished to rule out that this was just a chance occurrence. During the live tests, the combatants wore personal protective equipment consisting of fencing masks, thick padded gambesons, and steel-clad gauntlets. Videos and photographs of the combat sequences were taken with a SONY Cyber-shot DSCH300B Bridge Camera and Olympus Stylus Touch, respectively. The AWT experimental protocol is described in Table 3.
The AWTs featured several notable strengths complementing those of the CWTs. First, they were firmly grounded in fifteenth century swordsmanship, which is characterised by high degrees of sophistication and finesse (Gassmann et al.2017: 119). This, we posited, would provide a compelling historical analogy for Late Bronze Age sword fighting, which, like its late medieval counterpart, stood at the cusp of a sword fighting tradition going back several hundred years. Secondly, the AWTs did not subject the weapons to the same mechanical stresses as the CWTs. This ensured excellent cutting edge preservation throughout the combat sequences, allowing us to complete all actions planned. Finally, we were able to microscopically record the combat marks on the swords immediately after each fighting sequence; thanks to the ‘flying laboratory’, we had set up next to the experimental hall.
As for the limitations of our AWTs, the most notable was the difficulty to identify exactly which mark was caused by which action during a combat sequence. The problem was partly offset by keeping the sequences short (typically 4 s) and using high-speed cameras and digital photography, supported by inputs from the combatants, to understand which action had caused which mark. Another notable disadvantage of the AWTs was their being tied to a specific historic fencing style. This presented a significant risk of circularity in test design, data generation, and data interpretation, whereby we would make certain preconceived assumptions about how Bronze Age swords would be used; we would test the swords based on these assumptions; and, with perhaps the odd exception, we would demonstrate our assumptions experimentally. This is one of the greatest risks of grounding prehistoric weapon testing in historic sources. We knowingly offset this risk not only by comparing and contrasting the marks generated by both actualistic and controlled tests but also by validating both through the wear analysis of archaeological swords.