There is something so very pretty about English Fox Hounds, even if they are Harriers in the pursuit of rabbits. Some of the packs were legendary in their sport and breeding and the aristocracy used to employ great hours in the passions of horses, hounds, hunting while the trivialities of women, children, religion and politics gained little more attention than making certain one had sired a few males to inherit the estate and title.
I do so enjoy sporting families. Lord Randolph Spencer Churchill, son of the Duke of Marlborough was of the very finest George Washington and Theodore Roosevelt traditions of hound and horse.
As a boy Lord Randolph talked his parents into the purchase of a horse to which he immediately became a huntsman in being blooded at the kill of a fox as first run.
His lower schooling had him sent away, but when he entered Oxford as a teenager, he was once again near the family estate embarked upon a hound breeding program with gifts of two puppies from his father, along with his perpetual motion of hunting.
This generation was the best the British Empire ever produced. They were the sons of warriors, explorers, entrepreneurs who had scaled the world and brought home glory and fortune to build the massive estates one still sees on in English drama, but most have now been partitioned to ghastly public things due to the English tax.
World War I would have the cartel slaughter most of these fine offspring and the British were left with the lemmings of today.
These were not Wooster and Jeeves twits of the city folk, but were adventurers who tested their skills in horsemanship, interchange with the country folk, and the vast art of hunting. These were the best of men and women.
Lord Randolph was an adult even as a child and quite outspoken. One day he was hunting with a neighboring pack and rode too close to it, to which the huntsman, Tom Duffield, unleashed a torrent of verbiage at the late teenager.
The Lord never said a word, but simply went home, but he did not forget the ill treatment.
While at Oxford a meeting was held for the houndsmen in gathering, and Lord Randolph rose for the toast. Mr. Duffield was there and as all sat silent, Lord Randolph Churchill uttered the following toast:
"‘Fox-hunting, even though I am an enthusiast of all forms of sport, ranks first among field sports. I though am quite fond of hare hunting too. So keen am I that, if I cannot get fox-hunting and cannot get hare-hunting, I like an afternoon with a terrier hunting a rat in a barn; and if I can’t get that........"
As he looked around the room with deep deliberation
"............rather than dawdle indoors, I’d go out with Tom Duffield and the Old Berkshire."
The room was filled with a deep consternation for an entire minute as the words soaked in, and then the room burst into laughter at the audacity of the toast with even the roasted Tom Duffield joining in.
It became a legend told in many farm homes in what Churchill spoke.
That type of patience in a very impatient young man was not taught by Mother nor Father, not school, but by being a man in the hunting field in dealing with uneducated peoples and educated. Knowing the grim wit and satire of the English and waiting for the proper time to retaliate in the proper way when the opportunity arose which did not cause a worsening of the situation.
Lord Randolph's Mother before she died, wrote of her regret in not ministering to lessen her child's impulsiveness. While this statesman at times took the bit much too firm in being wrong, he also prevailed in taking his place among men and this was taught by his hounds.
From the start, he would farm out pups to the tenants to raise for him. Lord Randolph was a great favorite with them as he constantly was at their homes while hunting in being one of them.
There is absolutely nothing which can be discerned of value in those jogging about in games of ball which permeates civilized incivility. Give though a person a gun to manage, a dog, a horse, and then in short order you will find out what stuff they are made of in lady or gentleman, as being a danger with a gun is a danger all through life, and not being able to manage or liked by an animal is the surest sign they can not manage their own lives.......and as for the locals on whose lands they hunt, if they are never invited back, you know they are worthless people.
The world is a place filled with those who have dogs, have guns, have horses and do not, but there is a far different state of affairs between shooting a gun and handling a gun......from having a dog to a dog working to please you.......to having a horse and the horse having you.
I so have been imprisoned in the wrong century and there is nothing to be done of it than to live it out.
agtG
