The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1842-12-02 00:00:00

THE HON. GRANTLEY BERKELEY'S DEE':
MATCH AT CHARBOROUGH PARK.

This event, which for several months has excited an ex-
traordinary degree of interest in the sporting circles of the
metropolis and the west of England, from the novelty of its

character, was, on Tuesday, decided in the fine demesne of
S. E. Drax, Esq., one of the members for Wareham.
Precisely at half-past ten, the hour appointed for the busi-
ness of the day to commence, there approached from the
- mansion a very imposing cavalcade, consisting of Mr. Drax
and Mr. Hussey—umpires for the match—the Hon. Grantley
Berkeley, Mr. Drax's huntsmen and whips, and two grooms
with spare horses for the party about to assay the wager of
woodcraft. The umpires were clad in ordinary equestrian
attire—'ll r. Berkeley wore a suit of green, a velvet cap of the
same colour, with a rich gold band, and, slung at his back,
the implements of his craft. The servants of the hunt—their
frocks of jonquil-coloured velvet, with purple collars, and
the grooms' liveries of crimson, which, added to the pre-
valence of grey horses, gave the cortege as gallant an ap-
pearance as may with propriety be exhibited in these degenerate
days. I would say more of this pageant, but as Edwin Land-
seer was there to put it on canvass, it will soon appear again
with all the actors "in their habits as they lived. Having
passed in froUt of the "lines," and offered courtesy to such
of their friends as they chanced to recognise, bending to their
saddle-bows like knights of old, the principals straightway
addressed themselves to the encounter.
Here it is fitting something should be said anent the nature
of the wager—if wager there was any—of which there were
doubts, as the name of no second party transpired, and one
or two of Mr. Drax's friends, whom I questioned on that
head, by no means gave me cause to differ from the generel
opinion. However, whether for love or money, it was a
gallant adventure, and one which few men could have under-
taken with more chances of success than Mr. Grantley
Berkeley. The conditions, then, of the match, were, that in
the course of the day Mr. Berkeley should, with the aid of
one dog only, pull down, " hobble" (that is secure by fasten-
ing the four legs together), five bucks, and to leave them in
Possession of the servants by whom they were to be put into
a deer cart, provided for the purpose. When so carted, they
were to be examined by the umpires, and each one found un-
injured—that is to say without any serious wound or hurt—
was to count for the captor. Mr. Berkeley's apparatus for
" hobbling " was very complete: the horse he had trained to
ride up to the courses would lie down at the word, so as to
leave him free to deal with his quarry, and his dog—a noble
deer hound—had already pulled down his three bucks in one
day. The name of the steed is Brock, that of the hound
Odin—and, with perhaps the unnecessary explanation that
the buck is the adult male of the fallow, as the stag is of the
red deer, we will follow the cavaliers afield. _

The mounted party already described, led by Mr. Drax,
ride up to a herd (Charborough Park contains a great herd
of venison—mere than one hundred red, and eight hundred
fallow, deer), and use every device to separate a buck from
the lot. In vain they harass them from end to end of the
domain—the best result being to get a brace of bucks clear,
evidently the Damon and Pythias of the herd. These, run-
ning wide of each other—Odin is slipp'd at a white one—and
lo ! a course is up. The Berkeley rises in his stirrups—his
voice rings through the clear air—he cheers on his hound in
tones that make the gazer's heart leap. But scarce have they
run a bow shot's length when the buck stands at bay. Ah !
what is it I see ? By Dian's self Odin retreats, and the
antler-bearer is the victor!! Again the deer is made to try
his heels—again he is at bay. Mark ! some new device
occupies the hunter. The black buck, who still had watched
and waited on the Sylvan surface, is now selected as the
victim. Odin is cheered on to him—he flies, and almost
reaches the lines where the excited spectators look breathless
on. Good deer ! brave deer ! the hound is at thy haunch—
he leaps to thy throat—ah ! the forester turns, and his antlers
crash against his foe. Odin is dashed down the hill, he
slinks to his master for succour, and no cheer avails to launch
him again on the forest champion. The dark deer bath won
the day.

At the third failure Mr. Hussey rode up to the company,
announcing that Mr. Berkeley had abandoned the match, a
statement the gentleman himself presently confirmed, by
saying "It was a bad business." Whatever the cause, a
more complete failure there could not have been. Mr.
Berkeley did all that was possible in the case, but his dog
seemed beaten in the first attempt to close with his quarry.
I saw him as he was led away, and his keeper told me he was
a good deal injured ; he certainly had some hard knocks.
Upon this untoward finish, Mr. Drax sent for his own deer
hounds, and there was some good coursing before the party
broke up. I cannot take my leave of that company without
alluding to one member of it, who, with his equipage, made
up as unique a total as probably ever met in the same sum.
It was an equestrian who, together with his pony and his
boots, make up a party numbering 126 years—the rider being
84 years old, the steed 27, and the boots 15—as it was told
to me. This was the well-known person, Butler of Framp-
ton, the associate of King George the Fourth, then Prince of
Wales, and who looked hale and healthy enough to stand in
a similar relation to the present prince of that ilk, whom may
God long preserve.