Posted on 05/19/2003 10:12:08 AM PDT by Congressman Billybob
We dressed up in appropriate costumes, piled in the car, and went to Atlanta for the Renaissance Festival last weekend. One of the performances there was, of course, jousting. Those who haven't seen jousting probably have a false idea about how it's done.
If you've watched some movies, like Ivanhoe, you think that jousting is fought to the death and is generally hard on the health of the participants. Not so. The phrase "blackmail" came from the period when jousting was the equivalent of NFL games in Europe. Here's how it was conducted:
Weather permitting, jousts were held in venues all over Britain (and Europe) in the Middle Ages. The local gentry would organize the contests, but they were open to all comers. Keep in mind that at that time the inheritance laws gave all the property and income to the eldest son. So all sons younger than that had a taste for the good life, but not the income to sustain it. If they were good on horseback with a lance, they had an alternative way to prosper.
Skilled fighters would travel from tournament to tournament, taking on and defeating the local knights. But the rules of the joust were simple. To win, a knight only had to unhorse his opponent so he lay on his back like a flipped-over turtle. At that point, the challenger had won the prize of the defeated man's armor. But he was obliged to sell the armor back for a reasonable fee.
The itinerant knights who fought for money rather than glory had to minimize their expenses. That meant they cut back on staff. Unlike the local knights, they could not afford servants on salary whose sole duty was to polish their armor. Instead, they covered their armor with black paint to protect it from rusting. (It had the fringe benefit of making the challenger look more fearsome and evil.)
So "blackmail," which is now a crime, began as just a description of an honorable occupation – traveling jousters who fought for money.
The point of jousting – both in the Middle Ages and its modern incarnation at the Renaissance Fair – is more civilized than modern warfare. Throughout the animal kingdom and in a number of "primitive" societies, conflict is handled with non-lethal challenges. Whether one considers the mating habits of elk or sea lions, or the territorial contests of Stone Age tribes in the Amazon or the South Pacific, the same pattern often appears. They have contests, they have displays of weapons and skills. But at some point the loser (or losers) acknowledges his (or their) defeat and retreats – and the victor accepts the spoils. No one gets killed.
Having said a good word about blackmail, I now say a good word about gunboat diplomacy. This, too, was a display of force without the actual use of any substantial force. The point was made, the resolution was accepted by the losers. And no war was actually fought.
This is in line with George Washington's famous statement, "The best way to preserve the peace is to prepare for war." But preparation for war meant more than capable weapons and trained men. It also and necessarily meant the willingness to use both. Absent the willingness, the men and materials were of no import.
This is the fact that the United States forgot by degrees as it became the world's only superpower. And reversing that forgetfulness is the change in America and in the world as a result, following Afghanistan and Iraq. We have now relearned the truth of Teddy Roosevelt's definition of diplomacy, "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Unlike the previous generation, the current crop of miscellaneous dictators across the planet is much more likely to listen when the United States "speaks softly."
And the United States has the capacity to pay attention to the depredations of more than one dictator at a time. Senator Graham of Florida, a candidate for President, claimed last week that "The renewed attacks of Al Qaeda happened because we were distracted by the war on Iraq." If the Senator had been around in the weeks after Pearl Harbor, what would have been his response? What would he have said after Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor and the Germans had declared war on us as well?
Would the Senator have said, "We can't fight two enemies at the same time. We should fight Japan in the Pacific, but leave Europe to the Nazis?" No, the problem is not that the United States is unable to do two things at one time. It is that the Senator is unable to entertain two thoughts at the same time. And he thinks he is qualified to be President?
Here we are nearly through the column, and not a word has been said about the Knight of Draper's Liquor Store.
The state sport of Maryland is, by some political accident, jousting. Many decades ago, a friend of mine who was a cub reporter for the late, lamented News American in Baltimore was assigned to cover a jousting tournament in St. Mary's County in Southern Maryland, and took me along. The news wrinkle in the story was that one of the best jousters, the man favored to win the tournament, was the Priest of St. Mary's Parish. So off we went.
The tournament was held on the grounds of the Church, in the area where Lord Baltimore's settlers first arrived in the New World. It is an indication of the durability of families in that old part of Maryland that the names and the relative prominence of those names on the program for the joust were the same as on the tombstones behind the Church dating back more than two centuries. But I digress.
Anyone who wanted to enter the tournament was welcome to do so. It was like the US Open in golf – anyone could play his way into the tournament. You could show up with a horse, pick a name, and then go into the lists when your name was called. All riders would make three passes at three three-inch rings mounted on posts. Those who were perfect in spearing all nine rings on their lances then went into the finals where they rode against one-inch rings, one at a time, until only one jouster remained.
The Priest was entered as "The Knight of St. Mary's Church," and he rode well that day. I don't recall whether he won, because the man I most remember was one of the last contestants to sign up for the joust. The litany that was spoken for every contestant was the same. The Master of the Tournament would call out the name of each contestant, and then say, "Ride, Sir Knight, ride." Then the rider would spur his steed, level his lance, and charge.
There were about a hundred participants that day. And by the time my favorite rider entered the lists, the remaining local names that riders could use for identification were limited, and perhaps the imagination of this rider was limited, too. So he entered the lists on a sway-backed plow horse, wearing a straw hat that had seen better days, and wearing bib overalls. He named himself for a local retail establishment that he no doubt frequented. He did not do well that day.
The call that the Master made to send him on his way that day is appropriate advice to most, if not all, of the Democrat candidates for President in 2004. It was an amalgam of hope and impossibility. It was, "Knight of Draper's Liquor Store. Ride, Sir Knight, ride."
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(C) 2003 Congressman Billybob. All rights reserved.
Thanks for the words.
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