THE MAN OF THE HOUR

Press, Volume LIX, Issue 11195, 8 February 1902, Page 4

THE MAN OF THE HOUR

LORD RGSEBERY'S HOME LIFE

'He is one of the wealthiest and quite t';_ most brilliant of the British aiUtocrsw. He is a scholar' of erudition, an autr. >r u f distinction, and the finest orator of n; S c.w. He stands out from amid „ weultli _l > '-'. diocrity in solitary and grand distirr But undea-lying all this s.cintilLil 5 .:.-' sirface there is a grim and ttrrib'e rttiosTn bis life—tie pathos of utter solitude. Unseen by the crowd of admirers who wo.s-hip and envy him in his proud supiemacy, u„. recognised even by thos,e who write and speak of biui as of a well-known friend, there is an almost tragic lonelieness in his position—not merely in his political but i» his domestic life. He is probably at the present moment the most closely' observed of all public men. the best known to the general run of his countrymen. His cirole of -acquaintances is probably larger than that of uny person not of loyal rank. His friends are legion. Yet it would scarcely he overstepping the titith to say that he has not a single intimate, and there is not living creature with whom lie can ever entirely throw off that reserve that hides his inner self as a garment. He is, even in the midst of the applauding multitude, at a reception, or at his own dinner table, always alone.

It is only natural that this loneliness of disposition should beget a love of solitude. It matters not whether it be at Mentuiove at the Durdnns, at Dalmeny, in Berkeley square, or at the Villa Delahonte at Naples, the ex-Premier lives, for the most part a life of seclusion—of seclusion extraordinary in so prominent a man. Although a charming Jiost, he entertains as little as is pessible—not from any churlish dislike of hay- ■ ing his fellow beings in his house, but from ' an innate love of solitude. In London, whither he comas up from .he country from Saturday to ..Monday, becatts. it is - then quietest, he will spend 'hours hi each - day shut in his library with his books!and'' his own thoughts. If friends cbme to him he i. glad to make them welcome, lbu| he',, retires with relief into his sanctum when they a.B gone. When, in the country, he has a house party staying with him, he ' will slip away to the privacy of has own chamber, and commune with himself when occasion offers. -*. -

It is not far to seek for the cause of this pathetic seclusion. Lord Roseberv's life, -with all ita glories, with all its "achievements, has been a sad one. From his earliest days Fortune squandered Ler richest gifts on-him with a lavish hand. Born of a* mother as beautiful,, as fascinating as she was intellectually brilliant—a former maid of honour ard* bridesmaid to our late Sovereign—heritor of a proud title and of great wealth, blessed with mental gift, and aptitudes surpassing tboj-a of any man since Disraeli, and possessed of a sound, il not robust, constitution, ths world lav at. his feet when us little more than a boy he fell in love with-.the vrealthisst- heiress of his time—Miss Hannah Rothschild, heiress' to the wealthiest and most pQAverfulhranch of that most, distinguished family. His meeting with her was as lomanticas anything evw conceived by any novelist. His carriage collided with hers, and by extraordinary agility, combined with nolesa extraordinary piosence of mind, he sprang " out and cowght her us the fell after having been thrown upward by the forca of the impact. Then lie carried lier, stunned, tofa neighbouring house.. He devoted to \ns aU, tiro ardour ;an<_ passion of a- great' nature,"' and despite" the* most .relentless opposition on the pa.it of i her father,"he totiUyisncceeded^in'winding 1 ! her:* The love that had-stood the sire)**of a trying-, , lusted itaimpaiied during the'whole of his married life:'"" -The". domsstic pictures that have stainpsd then*?. , selves indelibly on the -> minds at ail 'that knew him during that- period are Arcadian in their simple beauty. He was a devoted-, and unwearying husband, 'a loving, and delighted fathsr. When his second ditigh- - tor; was born—Lady Crewe that is now—, h. would carry her aboufc'in his «t*ms|*for hours at a time. "."Those yearj/J Jie, once said, "were happier than I could ever have."' conceived any t...ue oil earth ; -*ttuM be.'" His wife .omething- _aore. thaa '.wife to - him.'-'• 8k& was -his make*. &be threw self heart' and- «his work, and into* ■ ,'his.sport. It was .she that made him poli--tieiah; it' was she tlittt t&l him out on that - briUinnt pareer which ''"he never lived to see him'-con*nrni*riate.- ■* - - - "Byt for mv, wife I should never have ,be*n Wthiu_y'. ib'another often quoted _<_• mark of his. The efferfton such a man of - the tragioally-eaily death of such' a help-' meet cari-4>e understood. It accouttts for . all -his lov*"-of -solituda,»his preference for. 1 quietlyfendi-ru"? hia rotes at the Burdens, or i wandering \<p v *a-id down the t&naces ,a 4" j Mentmore, to the gaiety of a social life.