Devil Dogge? I Say Good Boye

 

Everyone's heard of Charles the First's talented if impetuous cavalry commander, Prince Rupert of the Rhine (PROTR), but did you know he had a war dog called Boy? Boy was a large and rare hunting poodle(!) given to the prince by the Earl of Arundel when Rupert was imprisoned in Linz during the Thirty years War.

When the English Civil War broke out, Boy joined his master on the Royalist side and valiantly ran with the King's cavalry against the insurrectionist Paliamentarians. These hated Boy with puritan fervor, assigning the dog magical powers.

PROTR

Boy, they claimed, was a devil dog, a Lapland sorceress in canine form with the ability to speak arcane languages, a mix between Hebrew and High Dutch, apparently. He could prophecy, perform acts of espionage, make himself invisible and far more besides; Boy was bullet and knife proof, a valuable asset on the battlefield.

One Royalist pamphleteer lampoons doggish puritan superstition thus, in Observations Ʋpon Prince Rupert's white Dogge called Boye:

He is weapon-proofe himself, and probably hath made his Master so too, my self and the rest whom you have imployed to be of the conspiracy against him, have alwayes failed of our at∣tempts, as if something more then witchcraft watcht over him. Once I gave him a very hearty stroke, with a confiding Dagger, but it slided off his skin as if it had beene Armour of proofe nointed over with Quick-silver. Besides he hath been tempted with pieces of Capon and other choice morcells, as well seasoned all, as poyson and extemporary prayer could doe it: but the Cur as obstinately rejected them, as if he had knowne beforehand what they were, so that they hurt him no more then the plague-plaister, sent in the Letter did Mr. Pym.

Read Observations, it's short and amusing, but alas Boy wasn't bulletproof and met his end at the battle of Marston Moor in 1644, which saw the Royalists defeated with Rupert himself having to flee the field.

I'm no expert but I think the figure in the foreground is a LAPLAND WITCH

On Charles' defeat, Rupert left England only to return at the Restoration and serve as an Admiral in the Second Dutch War. How did this bold cavalryman become an Admiral? Therein lies another tale. 

In the meanwhile, here at the Compound we salute you PROTR and your dog, what a good boye.

Cheers,

LSP

Observations Upon A Dog

Keen-eyed readers of this popular and cosmopolitan mind blog have noticed the startling similarity of the Compound's dog, Blue Monarchist, to Prince Rupert of the Rhine's notorious canine accomplice, Boy.

Feared and hated by Parliamentarians as a devil dog and witch's familiar, Boy, a rare white hunting poodle, was applauded by Royalists for his(?) ability to speak multiple languages, prophecy, make himself and his master impervious to bullets, while wreaking bloody mayhem amongst those who dared offend him. 

All this to say nothing of the dog's preference for stained glass, oriented altars and chanted liturgy. 

Boy infuriated the mutinous, superstitious, killjoy, Christmas-banning Puritans as much as he pleased loyal servants of the Crown, who famously made the dog Sergeant Major General of the British Army. 

Notwithstanding rank or perhaps because of it, Boy chased out of rear echelon captivity to follow his master at the charge, and was shot at Marston Moor. The Royalist cause followed soon after, along with Britain's first and only military dictatorship.

Blue Edgehill, you have been warned.

Spiro Spero,

LSP

Dog Days

It's ferociously hot and Blue Monarchist leads the way, Edgehill's another day. But what about Naseby and Marston Moor I ask him, incredulously. 

By way of answer he sits with loyal expectancy and asks for a treat, as though that, somehow, will stop the New Model Army and advance the last gasp of chivalry. Fond imagining, but he gets one anyway.

Quarter Master over, we went out back with a good view to capturing Banbury, Reading, Oxford, and Bristol. Quite the campaign and devil take the hindmost. Charge and scatter the enemy to the winds!

Needless, Blue No Bishop No King got stuck into the Anabaptist provisions and ate my sister's dog's toy. Typical cavalier ill-discipline, raid the enemy's baggage train in the exuberance of the after-charge. And lose the war. Good work, furhead.

Chagrined, Blue Divine Right Of Kings went prowling in search of Trained Bands to destroy and defeat. Perhaps they were hiding in the cover, in a psalm-singing fit of millenarian expectancy. Good luck with that, Blue Old Service is prowling, seeking whom he may devour.

Not least the advance scouts of the enemy, Chimney Swifts. They're protected by Law, no thanks to Edwardus Coke, and doubly by a sheet of cardboard. Undaunted by pettifogging legal skulduggery, Blue Loyalist stands guard.

As did I, when I could stand. But seriously, as a loyal Son of the Crown and an irregular cavalryman to boot, let's see a bit more Divine Right of Kings and less Satanic Rule of the New World Order.

Vivat,

LSP

Gone To The Dogs

You may not have heard that Prince Rupert of the Rhine's battle dog, Boy, was believed to be a witch's familiar. Boy was shot with a silver bullet by superstitious puritan fanatics at the unfortunate battle of Marston Moor.

My dog, Blue Royalist, isn't a witch's familiar but has run the risk of being shot for stealing fried pies, steak, cheese, butter(!) and the occasional chicken. Not very SKCM but we'll let it pass, for now.

Blue isn't going fishing this afternoon, he is staying at the Compound to guard the position against intruders, malfeasants and the various flotsam and jetsam of post-Obama America.

Tight lines,

LSP

Ride On

JB

To escape the stream of lying corruption that's pouring out of Washington D.C. like superheated plasma from an angry sun, I climbed into the truck and paid a visit to the horse.

Edgehill

JB was looking good and has put on weight nicely, thanks VS for looking after that, still, she isn't very fit because I haven't been riding very much. In fairness to me, I haven't had a lot of time to get in the saddle but it pays to make the time. Healthy body, healthy mind, and riding's one of the more enjoyable things in life, especially going fast.

Marston Moor

Saying that, I didn't go at any great speed with JB, just walk and trot, and I felt she showed good control. Still, she needs to be ridden more to "level up," I'll have to adjust the schedule accordingly.

Ride over it was back to HQ, the wires and a veritable avalanche of kindergarten style tomfoolery on the part of the Administration.

Naseby

I notice they've fallen back on the "we were just idiots!" defense. Remarkable. But hey, don't you dare criticize our rulers unless you want your 'phones tapped and the State's collection enforcers knocking on your door.

Mark Steyn writes about it here.

Ride on,

LSP