Past Events
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The Fox Hunt
In the fall of 1841, the noted architect Thomas Hopper, a staunch supporter and long-time member of the society hosted a most memorable foxhunt on the grounds of the recently completed Bryn Bras Castle in Northern Wales. Ambrose M. Whitford proved himself to be a dutiful and worthy Huntsman with competent support from Francis Pierce and L.R. Drury, Whippers-in.
The hounds were released to the coverts shortly after a formal breakfast and were met “…with an immediate braying of a multitudinous pack”. A chase promptly commenced and the fleeing pack forced Mr. Whitford to suggest that the party split to thirds. A raucous pursuit engaged the hunters for the next several hours through the gentle Snowdonian foothills of Bryn Bras, leading the group under the command of Mr. Drury “through fence, thicket and wall of stone ‘till we crested a grassy mound and beheld Anglesey!”
Fate would behold no better a bounty for the party led by Mr. Pierce, who became so disoriented in the surrounding woodlands that they summarily gave up the chase and dedicated their efforts on orienteering their way back to Bryn Bras. Weary, they returned to the estate well past dinner and were forced to satiate themselves on crusts of bread, cheese and smoked sausage pilfered from the pantry by a sullen and ashamed Mr. Pierce.
Mr. Whitford’s companions diligently pursued their prey for well over 2 and half hours until their wily opponents went to ground. Not wanting to miss the evening festivities, Mr. Whitford proscribed the usage of the terriers, and, much to the chagrin of his contemporaries, declared the hunt a bust.
The event concluded in a great revelry worthy of the most successful hunts and a frivolity to be envied. After consuming by one account “a passel of Brandy sufficient to euthanize a steer”, Josiah Briggs thrust himself upon the mantle and whilst towering over the befuddled hunters slathered leftover bordelaise sauce onto his cheeks and forehead in a satire of the blooding ritual and declared himself Master of the hunt. The debauchery continued in this vein well into the early morning hours, leading to a widespread and conspicuous absence at brunch the following day.
Debauchery aside, the event was seen as a rousing success, and the legacy of the Antiquated Sporting Society was born.
Water Polo
1891 marked the first water-based Antiquated Sporting Society competition, held in Derbyshire, England. Then High Chancellor William Wilson had long lobbied for the Antiquated Sporting Society to focus primarily on competitive and leisure swimming, but had met with justifiably stiff resistance at each attempt. In an effort to prevent the resignation of such a renowned sporting figure, compromise was reached by declaring that the newly recognized sport "aquatic football" (later to be known as "water polo") would be the celebrated event.
The contest was seen as the first significant exposure of British nobility to the sport, which prior to that was thought to be the "drollery of the destitute." This was also the only Antiquated Sporting Society event that allowed the play of commoners as well as the aristocracy.
The tourney unfolded over two days of play with over 24 teams. The proletarian team "Marx My Words" emerged victorious with a rousing skip shot goal to win in overtime, defeating the team of unemployed Libertarians "Lazy Faire." Perhaps more historically significant was the conflict that embroiled the later rounds of play.
Lord Alfred Tennyson presided over the event as keynote speaker and guest of honor, and at the chiding of his peers, agreed to partake in a period of play despite his fragile age of 82. When Tennyson caught a lob pass which left him open for a goal, social activist William Morris committed a misconduct foul by dragging Tennyson under water; an action already widely shunned in community. After being resuscitated, Tennyson verbally berated Morris, declaring wallpaper and the Kelmscott Press to be "plebeian poppycock." Visibly downtrodden after having his life's work devalued, Morris stormed out of the match, declaring Poet Laureates to suffer from "unconscionable hubris." Even after Tennysons death in 1892 from a lingering case of pneumonia, which he is rumored to have contracted as a result of the foul, Morris upheld his grudge against Poet Laureates by declining his appointment in 1896.
Croquet
July 1931 marked the first Antiquated Sporting Society event held on American soil in Hilton Head, SC. A pesky northwesterly breeze of 15 knots chilled the spirits and ruffled the petticoats of the over 100 participants. Colonel Reginald E. Buxton, III was the victor, following an unprecedented sending of then leader Murial Westinghouse of over 93 feet across adjacent roughage, and into a ravine.
Perhaps the most significant occurrence came in the semifinal round, which pitted against each other two distinguished guests, author HG Wells and painter Norman Rockwell. Wells had prior been the subject of unrelenting taunts from Rockwell, who found his mustache and striped hat to be "boundlessly pedestrian". The conflict escalated when Wells, with the opportunity to deliver a crushing blow to Rockwell's chances, struck his own foot during an attempted send, prompting the gallery to erupt into a frenzy. Never one to let such an opportunity pass, Rockwell chided Wells for his lack of agility, asking him if "[his] whale-bone corset obstructed his shot." Suffering from a combination of deflated pride and mildly sprained ankle, Wells spent the remainder of the day sulking in a bout of depression.
With an apparent bone to pick, Rockwell composed a painting entitled 'Croquet,' which was featured on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post that following September. Innocuous to the uninformed viewer, it appears to be an innocent game of croquet. However, scholars believe that the gentleman depicted is a caricature of HG Wells. Additionally, the juxtaposition of the female character in the foreground is a subtle condemnation of Wells' sporting persona. Aghast by this accusation, HG Wells disappeared into seclusion, and was rumored to be in the throes of a massive depression. In 1936, Wells published 'The Croquet Player,' which uses croquet as a metaphor for the way in which man confronts the very problem of his own existence. Repeated references to a "fancy-footed painter" lead scholars to believe that it was in fact the croquet conflict 5 years prior that prompted Wells to pen the novel.
This event also pronounced the beginning of the American Chapter of the Antiquated Sporting Society, which is alive and well today.