Surely You Joust

   You will likely be surprised to learn that jousting is Maryland's official state sport and has been since the early 1960s. There were jousting tournaments long before and they still exist in the form of "Ring Tournaments." Instead of tilting toward another knight coming from the other direction, one attempts to put the lance through a suspended ring while galloping at a high speed. Valour may have been sacrificed for safety reasons, but fine equestrian skills are still required and chivalrous behaviour expected.
   This form of mediaeval activity still exists in the mid-Atlantic states and farther south and during this time of "culture wars" some may characterize such activities negatively, as most activities are, since something about them will be upsetting to someone. Instead of tilting at ring tournaments I will present here a description of one from the last century when Maryland planters appreciated the "good things of life -- wines, handsome furniture and plate, fine clothes and blooded horses." Pomp and pageantry are displayed and one can simply regard it as a prom in a pasture which people of all ages could dress up for and enjoy.
    

                                    Ring Tournaments

   This description of a ring tournament held in Maryland in the early 1940s is found in Hulbert Footner's, Maryland Main and the Eastern Shore. It appears in the chapter, "Calvert", which is the county in which he lived and, as the last sentence indicates, loved. One reviewer notes that it is a book "with a quite particular charm" and another that it is "a handsome tribute to one of our most civilized states..." Footner had, a few years before, published the book, Charles' Gift" which was about his Calvert county house, and a couple of years later he finished Rivers of the Eastern Shore: Seventeen Maryland Rivers. They were well received, as well, and a new edition of the latter one has just been released by Schiffer Publishing. Perhaps someone should do the same with Maryland Main...

[caveat lector. If you are the type of reader who gets upset by the racial terminology used in the past, you should skip this part, since the one minor occurrence may be a major one for you.]

"The most picturesque fiestas in Maryland are the tournaments. Formerly held in all parts of the state, they are now pretty well restricted to Southern Maryland, though I hear occasionally of one in Harford and there have been sporadic attempts to revive the custom on the Eastern Shore. When a smart society is in the ascendant, tournaments are quickly abandoned; it is only in the unfashionable parts that they flourish. I have asked many of the old men how they started and the answer is always the same; they didn’t start, they have come down uninterruptedly from medieval times. I am inclined to suspect that this is a myth; nevertheless, the rite is an ancient and gallant one. 

   Each little community holds its tournaments once a year, generally  in the month of August. The proceeds are devoted to the local church.  A flat pasture field is chosen and measured off and three wooden arches erected in line. From the middle of each arch depends an iron rod with a claw in the end which holds an iron ring  of the sort you snatch at from the hobby-horse of a merry-go-round.  Meanwhile every boy has been practising assiduously on his own farm. Nowadays they don’t tilt at each other but at the rings. The boy who spears the most rings on the point of his lance is privileged to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty; the runners-up crown her Maids of Honor. 

  The tournament I saw at Mutual last week differed little from the first one I saw more than thirty years ago. True, the slick automobiles, all so much alike, were a poor substitute for the quaint family chariots, some of which dated from the Civil War. They have all disappeared; they ought to have been preserved in Museums.  The Marshal  and the Herald, fearful of appearing ridiculous, no longer stick the wife's willow plume in their old felt hats, or hang the parlor lambrequin over a shoulder. On the other hand, the riders are beginning to dress up again. They wear striped silk jockey caps and gay scarfs across their breasts; most of them have achieved riding breeches and boots. It is remarkable how many of these plain farmers boys still contrive to keep a good riding horse.

  Mutual is not even a village, but only a scattered community. Their tournament is always the best because they put their hearts in it. The people of Prince Frederick are becoming too worldly wise. How the women of Mutual work to prepare and serve the supper! And what a supper! Country-cured ham, fried chicken, deviled crabs, and fixings. They have adopted the cafeteria style of serving which I deplore, because it deprives you of the opportunity to exchange a bit of persiflage with the charming waitresses, but of course, it is a great saving of labor. Tom Mackall runs the soft-drink stand both afternoon and evening, the hottest and most thankless job of all; Dr. Everard Brisco manages the whole show and is everywhere at once.

The scene on the field is an animated one. The long straight course is roped off and the automobiles are lined up two or three deep. The modern steel body permits those in the rear to sit on top of their cars. On a very small scale, it is like the famous painting of “Derby Day.” Midway a little judges stand has been built with a few dignitaries down in front and a band of five or six pieces behind. Up at the start the horses are held by colored boys while the knights await their turn. Up at this end, the real sports are always to be found kneeling in a row with bills between their fingers watching the track and offering odds in low voices, for fear the parson might overhear. The Marshall and the Herald patrol the course on horseback. Of late years it has been customary to furnish the Herald with two of the prettiest girls as pages, an innovation I endorse.

  To equalize their chances, the contestants  are divided into novices, amateurs, and professionals. There are crowns for novices and amateurs and usually cash prizes for the professionals.  Each knight adopts a pseudonym for the riding, the name of his home place, such as Knight of Preston, Knight of Parrot's Cage; Knight of Tulip Hill; or  a fanciful appellation, as Knight of Nowhere, Knight of Last Night, Knight of Failure. In choosing such names the lads, without knowing it, are upholding a  tradition of their earliest forbears, who were fond of calling their plantations "Dear-Bought," “Happy-be-Lucky,” “Penny Come Quick” and so on. 

The band plays a few bars and the Herald bawls out his first command: “Knight of Rousby Hall, on deck!” Somebody lately pointed out the absurdity of this order, so now he has changed it to: “Knight of Rousby Hall, get ready!” The next order follows shortly: “Knight of Rousby Hall, prepare to charge!” Then: “Charge, Sir Knight!” and he comes thundering down the track. He leans far over his horse’s neck with his eye trained along the lance and the true knight’s expression of derring-do. If he takes the rings the band blares a few more triumphant notes; Marshall, Herald, and pages gallop to meet him and escort him back to the judge’s stand. If he misses, there is silence, and he generally makes a detour back of the spectators to the starting point.

So it goes throughout the long, sunny afternoon. The star riders of other years bring their wives and babies to the field; each year there is a new crop of skinny youngsters to take their places. Each knight takes three tilts at the rings. At the end there are always ties to be ridden off, and this furnishes the most excitement. I have seen it take an hour to settle a tie between two tight-lipped boys. They put up smaller rings and when that fails, rings only a half-inch in diameter. This provides a marvelous exhibition of skill. 

When the riding is over, there is a free-for-all back to the Mutual Hall for supper. It used to be served out-of-doors, but the meal was so often interrupted by a thunderstorm that now the tables are set in the hall. But you can still carry your food outside if you like it that way. Following this delectable meal, after an interval to give the girls time to change their dresses, comes the ball. The tables have been whisked out; the brass band transforms itself into an orchestra. Calvert County is famous for its pretty girls, and each year, I swear, they grow prettier. 

There is a deal of oratory spilled on these occasions. Political aspirants are always to be had; one is invited to address the assembled knights in the afternoon, another (of the opposite party) to open the ball. The speeches bear a strong family resemblance with frequent reference to “our brave knights and fair ladies; the ancient chivalry of Maryland” and so on. It is a pretty sight to see the successful knights and their crowned ladies lined up in front of the platform. The crowns are fillets of wax orange blossoms, becoming to every feminine head. Everybody heaves a sigh of relief when the orator finishes his peroration. The first dance, “the royal set,” is reserved to the knights and ladies.

“Tou’nament Day” provides Calvert County with its grand opportunity of the year to get together. All the sons and daughters who have gone out into the world try to get home for that day. In the afternoon there is continual visiting from car to car; in the evening the older ladies sit around the stifling hall, fanning themselves, and of course, you must speak to them all. It is wonderful for anybody like me, brought up in an unfeeling city, to have a community where I belong.”

[pp.284-287. The above was all typed by me. Anyone using it should check the original.]

Sources: 

Here is the website of the Maryland Jousting Tournament Association. 

See this good article in Atlas Obscura. 

It appears as though you can see real jousting at the Maryland Renaissance Festival. 

Canadian Content:

  Canadians will want to know that LACROSSE is the official team sport of Maryland.