A POPULAR DUKE

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 7978, 8 December 1911, Page 8

A POPULAR DUKE

HIS GRACE OF DEVONSHIRE

REGARDED BY THE NATION WITH AFFECTION.

yxio.-.x ova special cokbesponbbnt,

LONDON. October 20,

During tho latter years of liis life, Spencer Compton, eighth Duko of Devonshire, was known to his countrymen as “ tho ” Duke, a position enjoyed by no man since the first Duko or Wellington. In tho biography of tho Duke o: Devonshire just published by Longmans —a formidable two-vohuno work prenared by Air Bernard Holland, C.B.— the author draws a suggestive comparison between tho warrior and the statesman so trusted by England. Some shrewd points are made in it, hut the foreigners, and possibly many Englishmen of tho younger generation, will find tho position of tho politician much harder to understand than that of AVclling'.ton. The work of the soldier for England was done before all tho world’s eyes, and gave' him a place second only to that occupied hy Nelson in the estimation of IIIM countrymen. The Duke of Devonshire won no glory on stricken fields, and .ns a politician ho was much more solid than brilliant. Tot England regarde d the Duko with affection, his moral in.Uuenco in tho country was perbaps grea-ter than that wielded by any of his ccmtornporaries, and ho was trusted absolutely. To tho question why ho was so trusted there can ho only ano general nnswer—because ho was so emphatically English in every respect. From Air Holland’s volumes the picture of an Englishman vividly emerges; tho picture of emo more remarkable for character than for talent. No freaks of development aro to bo noted. Tho boy was father of tho man; tho man was only a larger edition of tho hoy. At tho ago of .fifteen ho writes to his father that his tutor goes on plaguing him with English composition, which ho hates mortally. Ho continued to hate it mortally to tho end of his life. The composition of a speech was always “a torment to him.” Lord Rosebery observed in tho House of Lords that he> did not “ know any man who spoke with so much previous anguish or so much anguish at tho time as tho Into Duko of Devonshire.” Long after his earlv speeches in tho House, as member and Alinister, bad earned him high compliments, tho Duke failed to understand why his words should ho attractive to tho country. “To Lord IVolmer, urging him to accept an invitation to speak,-at a great city, ho once said, < Aro you sure they want to hear me ? ■why on earth should they care to hear m A very large portion of Mr Holland’s biography is naturally occupied hy tho Duke in his political aspect, and the political outweighs tho personal, l.ut one gets many glimpses of the man himself, and many good stones which serve to illustrate tho Duke s phlegmatic temperament. Distaste for all superfluous or hyperbolic expression was . one of his most marked characteristics. Some orator in the House of Lords said on one occasion “ This is tho proudest moment of mv life.” The Duke murmured to his neighbour. “The proudest moment of ‘my'life was when my pig won the first prize at Skipton Fair.

“BREAKING XT GENTLY.”

A piquant account of the Duke is civen in connection with Sir John Gorst’s Education Bill. "When the Cabinet decided not to proceed with ono of these Bills the Duke undertook to break the news to the Vice-Presi-dent, who had produced it and was attached to it. He went to Sir John’s yoom. and, after standing some time with his hack to the fire, said, “ Well, Gorst, 1 your damned Bill s dead.” . . . There is almost the Johnsonian spint in the following scrap of table-talk, in ■which the late King, when Prince of Wales, took part: 11 Hartington, you ought not to be drinking all that champagne.” “ No, sir, I know I oughtn’t. “Then, why do you do it?” “ Well, sir, I have made up my mind I’d rather be id now and again than always taking care of myself.” An amusingly blunt reference to the Cloth is contained in a protest against the conference to discuss “Turkish atrocities yi : “ They cannot talk more nonsense than has already been talked at the meetings,” said the Duke, “ but why shoiild we encourage any respectable member of tho party to go and listen and be in some sense perhaps committed by the speeches of men like Freeman. Canon Liddon, Jenkins, Maxo, Stanley, etc., etc., and innumerable parsons? The number of tho latter on tho list is quite enough for me.” “AN ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR.” Though the Duke had a most tenacious memory for some things he was one of tho most forgetful of men, especially in tho matter of engagements. The greatest personages suffered from it, including Queen Victoria and King Edward. Upon ono occasion King Edward told him that he proposed to dine quietly at Devonshire House on a certain day. The Duke forgot this arrangement, and •when the King unexpectedly arrived had to bo hurriedly retrieved from the Turf Club. Queen Victoria told the Duke of her idea of revisiting Ireland after the lapse of many troubled years. She asked him to mention it to Lord Salisbury, then Prime Minister, so that she might talk to him also about it when ho had had time to think it over. When the Queen next saw Lord Salisbury she said: “ And what do yon think of my Irish plan ?” hut found the Prime Minister blankly ignorant of her meaning. “ Tho fact was I clean forgot about it,” said tho Duke. “HURRAH 1 SOMETHING TO EAT.”

Yet some things the Duke never forgot. Mr Wilfrid Ward met him in 1885 at » small dinner party. He relates that '‘The Duke, then Lord Hartington, arrived after a long day of committees, both tired and hungry. And ho was obviously dissatisfied with the unusually unsubstantial character of the excellently cooked French dishes which formed the first courses at dinner. His remarks wore for a time few and brief. I was sitting nearly opposite to him, and a little later my attention was aroused by hearing him suddenly exclaim in deep tones, ‘Hurrah! something to eat at last,’ as somo solid roast beef made its appearance. He spoke freely after this.” Eighteen years afterwards Mr Ward mot him again at the British Embassy in Borne.

‘‘After dinner I was presented to the Duke, who talked politics very pleasantly for some minutes. I then ventured to remind him that we had once met before, and he looked somewhat blandly at mo until I mentioned the place of our meeting. Then ho, exclaimed with strong feeling: ‘Of course 1 remember. We had nothing to oat.’

Tho inadequate French dishes had dwelt m Ins mind for nearly twenty years.” THE DUKE AND ART. Tho art treasures of Chatsworth arc brown tho world over, and, thanks to tho institution of cheap railway excursions, attract thousands of visitors every year. It was pointed out to the duko tiiat this continuous stream of "trippers” involved tremendous wear and tear to the works of art and was ,ad for tho actual structure of tlw house. His answer was characteristic; "1 daresay they will bring down the floors some day, but I don’t see how ire can keep them out.” Tho Dukos nonchalant attitude towards his art treasures led many of his ■’rionds to believe that he knew little About art and eared less, .but those who .'lew him best knew better. Mrs Strong, sometime librarian and custodian of works of art at Chatsworth, tells a story in point concerning the Hardwick tapestries. “No wall could bo found large enough to bang them upon save those of the sculpture gallery, which, as is well known, is full of works of the period of Canova and Thorvaldsen. When, however, tho Duko came to see the effect, ho sharply disapproved. ‘1 can oidy say,’ ho remarked, 'that to hang Gothic tapestries behind statues in the classic style is simply ridiculous, and nothing will induce nio to - jink otherwise’—and upon that ho walked out.” HIS ONE AMBITION.

Naturally lethargic tho Duke of Devonshire was only forced into public life by his high sense of public duty. Ambition to pliino before men he had none. Ho had several chances to become Premier, but doggedly refused, and ho would gladly have avoided office altogether. Ho had only ono known ambition, and that was to breed and own a Derby winner. In his breeding and racing stud ho took the keenest possible interest, and it was only over •‘the sport of kings” that ho allowed himself to betray any particular enthusiasm. But though he bred and owned many first-rate horses, be was never successful in any of tho classic races for colts. “Sometimes,” he said to a friend, “I dream that I’m leading in the winner of tho Derby, but I’m afraid it will never be anything but a dream.” Ills fear was well founded, for Ids popular colours never caught the judge’s eye in the great event at Epsom. GLADSTONE AND LINCOLN. A notable feature of the political side of Air Holland’s book is the Duke’s curious relations with Air Gladstone. For Air Gladstone ho appears to have had a feeling approaching almost to veneration. When he had separated from him on the compulsion of Home Rule, he could not bring himself to utter any save kind words of his old chief, ana at a memorable meeting he checked in the audience the expression of a sentiment disrespectful to Air Gladstone. Air Holland admits that Lord Hartington would certainly have preferred to spend an evening in the company of Disraeli, “who, in addition to bis more serious qualities, was a' man of this world, very amusing, and able to talk about ‘people,’ and even horses, in an intelligent manner.” Lord Hartington said once that he could never ‘‘get on” with Gladstone in conversation. He had “even more difficulty than most men in comprehending the meaning of his illustrious and ambiguous chief,” and “towards the end of their connection he abandoned tho attempt in confessed despair.” During the American Civil War the Duke met Abraham Lincoln—and was not impressed: . “Lincoln was ‘very civil, Lord Hartington wrote his father, “and also told us stories. I said I supposed wo had come at a lad time to see the country, and he said, ‘Weill ho guessed we couldn’t do them much harm.' I never saw such a specimen of a Yankee in my life. I should think he was a very well-meaning sort of a man, but, almost everyone says, about as fit for his position , now as a fire shovel. He didn’t talk much about the war, and I should suppose that Seward did much as he liked with him.” . It should be added that Lincoln began the interview .by saying, “Hartingtonl Well, that rhymes with Partington,” which may account for something of the Duke’s prejudice. Lincoln, however, did not hesitate to predict that the young lord would live to stand “on the top rung.” Few things in biography are more touching than tho Duke’s end. “He was on his return towards England, when his heart failed again suddenly, and he died in a hotel at Cannes on March 24th, 1908. As he lay unconscious ho was heard to mutter some words, as if ho thought he was playing at cards. Then he murmured: ‘Well, the game is over, and I am not sorry.’ ”