The Dukes (40 page)

The unorthodox upbringing of the Mitford girls in a household dominated by an explosive reactionary father and a vague compliant mother has been vividly narrated by two of the sisters: the nursery managed to produce a family of strong individuals, including one Communist, one Fascist, and eventually one duchess. The late Nancy Mitford made her name as novelist and biographer. Jessica Mitford emigrated to the United States, and has written a number of success­ful books. Unity was a personal friend of Hitler, and Diana married Sir Oswald Mosley. The fifth, "Debo", is Duchess of Devonshire.

"Debo" decided at the age of eleven, according to sister Jessica's account, that she would marry a duke. While the other girls prayed that "Mr Right" would come along, she reserved her prayers for the "Duke of Right".* Thanks to Nancy, who clearly used her as a model for Linda in
The Pursuit of Love,
the Duchess is better known than almost any of her rank alive today. We know that she is senti­mental and romantic. She is astonishingly beautiful, with cornflower- blue eyes that bewitch the least impressionable.

The Devonshires have a son and two daughters (one of whom has married into the ubiquitous Tennant family), and they live at Chatsworth, now a much quieter house. Seven gamekeepers are still employed there, and a domestic staff of fifteen, but over three- quarters of the house, a magnificent seventeenth-century mansion, is left alone for the public to enjoy. We tend to think of the "Stately Home business" as a twentieth-century necessity, but Chatsworth has been open to the public consistently since the eighteenth century. The archives are among the best kept in the country, and accommodate an endless stream of students. The Duke and Duchess have a floor to themselves, including two small but exquisite sitting-rooms in which they have kept alive the spirit of Georgiana. The rooms are decorated in precisely the style Georgiana would recognise, and, apart from a Domenichino cartoon and a Poussin, are hung with pictures of her and her contemporaries. Georgiana spent more time in London than at Chatsworth, but no matter, it is at Chatsworth that her presence is still felt.

At the coronation of 1953 "Debo" Devonshire wore Duchess Georgiana's eighteenth-century robes.

* * *

*
It is fair to point out that when she married Captain Lord Andrew Cavendish he was the second son, and was not expected to inherit the titles
.

The Duke of Devonshire is descended from the second son of Bess of Hardwick by Sir William Cavendish. Their third son, Charles, went to Welbeck Abbey and was the father of the Duke of Newcastle in the Cavendish family.*

The brother of the 1st Duke of Newcastle was the famous mathe­matician Sir Charles Cavendish, of Welbeck Abbey, and the wife of the 2 nd Duke was an even more famous writer - Margaret Caven­dish, Duchess of Newcastle (1624-1674). Sneered at by Walpole. who dismissed her as a "fertile pedant", the Duchess was highly regarded in her own time, and objective critics consider that her bio­graphy of her husband is very fine. Her output was enormous, includ­ing poetry, plays, and prose works, and most of her books are now extremely rare. She had an additional reputation for madness, fostered by her penchant for appearing in theatrical costume at the least appropriate time, and by her outrageously affected manners. Saner than many of her detractors, the Duchess was guilty of little more than a flair for display. There was no son and heir, so that the dukedom became extinct, but her daughter Henrietta married Edward Harley, Earl of Oxford, and this marriage also produced a female heir, Margaret, who in 1734 married the 2nd Duke of Portland. Thus it was that the Dukes of Portland became owners of Welbeck Abbey, and of the Harley properties in London, which span an area of Marylebone now spattered with street names which recall this complicated past - Harley Street, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, Portland Place, Great Titchfield Street (the Duke of Port­land's second title is Marquess of Titchfield). Not only that, but it means the blood of Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle, flows in the veins of the Duke of Portland.

The dukedom of Portland had been conferred upon the Bentinck family in 1716 in recognition of the capital role played by the 1st Duke's father, Hans Wilhelm Bentinck, in post-Stuart England. The story of the close friendship between William III and his protege Hans Bentinck provides an intriguing chapter in the history of the British monarchy.

Hans Bentinck (1649-1709) was the son of a Dutch nobleman (the family continues in Holland today), who first came to the atten­tion of the Prince of Orange in 1664, when he was fourteen years

*The seventeenth-century Duke of Newcastle was a Cavendish; the modern Duke of Newcastle is a Pelham-Clinton-Hope, and belongs to another chapter. They have nothing to do with one another. The first was Duke of Newcastle-upon- Tyne, the second is Duke of Newcastle-under-Lyme; the first line came to an end nearly 300 years ago, the second was not created until 1756 and continues into modern times.

old and the Prince was fifteen. The Prince made Hans his personal Page of Honour, and later a Nobleman of the Chamber. Bentinck was ravishingly beautiful, and possessed the rare virtue of constancy. The friendship thus begun in adolescence lasted an entire lifetime, surviving the onslaughts of jealousy, the competition of marriage, and the resentment of the House of Commons.

When they were both young men there occurred a critical event which was to secure the importance of their relationship. The Prince of Orange nearly died of smallpox, and were it not for the selfless attentions of Hans Bentinck he would almost certainly have suc­cumbed. Hans slept with the Prince for sixteen days and nights, not daring to leave his side, in an attempt to absorb into his own body some of the fever which threatened his friend's life. It was an act of courage and devotion, and it worked. Hans did catch the fever, but both men survived, and the affection which bound them grew stronger as a result.

Hans was frequently sent to the Court of St James as William's personal envoy. It was he who negotiated William's marriage to Princess Mary of York, he who was instrumental in having the throne of England offered to William, he who was the Prince's most intimate counsellor. When William became King of England in 1689, Hans came to England with him, and established here the noble family of Bentinck.The King had manifest reasons to be thankful, and was lavish in his demonstrations of gratitude. A few days before his coronation he created his friend Earl of Portland in the peerage of England, and granted him lands too numerous to count. The flow of gifts to Bentinck hardly abated in the years to come, so that he was in time the richest subject in Europe. Unfortunately, Bentinck had neither the grace nor tact to acknowledge that the massive bestowal of gifts in his receptive lap might legitimately arouse the jealousy of the English, no matter how much he may have deserved them. He was, after all, a foreigner, yet he came into possession of more English lands than any Englishman. He showed none of the deferential politeness that one might expect from a guest in the country, but on the contrary flaunted his new wealth, exploited his closeness to the King, and treated the English with lofty disdain. He did not care for the English, and made no attempt to ingratiate himself. Conse­quently, they did not care for him. Everyone recognised and applauded his integrity, his devotion to the King, his pellucid honesty, but the English wished that he would learn to flatter (an art which they had been busy perfecting through centuries of Court life), and would try a little harder to dissemble. He did not dissemble at all, and was profoundly unpopular. Even in his native Holland he was considered a foreigner now; he conspicuously lacked the dexterity to appear sympathetic.

There was a rumour that the King intended to create Bentinck Duke of Buckingham, which would have been asking for trouble. Already singularly disliked by the House of Commons, he would have exacerbated their mistrust by bearing the title created by James I for his lover George Villiers, and the plan was mercifully dropped. The Bentinck family had to wait until the second generation for their dukedom, conferred by George I in 1716.

Surprisingly for one with such feeling for friendship, Bentinck showed few discernible signs of emotion. Marlborough called him "a wooden fellow", and subsequent cartoons of his descendants have depicted them as blocks of Portland stone. Swift said unkindly that he was "as great a Dunce as ever I knew", but Swift was most likely venting spleen; for Bentinck was no fool.

At least his beauty was acknowledged by all, and his devotion to the King hardly in question. He was at the King's side on the death of Queen Mary, and with him at the disclosure of the assassination plot in 1696. His affection was real and not motivated by self- interest. It wavered only once, when William's attentions became engaged by a new favourite, Arnold van Keppel (created Earl of Albermarle).
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Keppel's softer, more capricious nature captivated the King, who granted him favours which provoked a jealous rage in Bentinck of such ferocity that he seemed a different person. His customary cold control suddenly evaporated into a sulky sullenness. Quarrels erupted daily at Court, where Bentinck's naked nerves sparked scenes of lofty petulance, and the bluntness of hurt pride. He repelled William's attempts to make amends, refused to take his seat in the royal coach, and eventually resigned all his offices in a fit of umbrage. The King attempted to dissuade him, but he was firm. What really offended Bentinck were the shortcomings in his
own
character, cruelly highlighted by the contrast with Keppel's gentler graces, and about which he could do nothing. He deeply resented being passed over for being himself. He suffered the pain of rejection, in the knowledge that it was not for faults committed, but for transi­tory attractions with which he could not compete. Bentinck took refuge in an embassy in Paris, and William wrote him an affection­ate letter promising that his feelings for him would continue until death. There are over 200 of these letters from the King, which amply testify to the generosity of their love.

The breach was not final. Bentinck was a close friend to the end of the King's life. On William's death-bed his last words were to ask for Portland, who came immediately, gave William his hand, and, as Luttrell tells us, the King "carried it to his heart with great tender­ness".

Bentinck himself is buried in Westminster Abbey, as is his son, the 1st Duke of Portland (1682-1726). It was Bentinck's grandson, the 2nd Duke (1709-1762), who married the Cavendish and Harley heiress and moved his principal seat from Bulstrode Park, Bucks, to Welbeck Abbey, Notts. Like father and grandfather, he too was a conspicuously beautiful man, "reported to be the handsomest man in England". With Bentinck, Harley and Cavendish lands in his posses­sion, he could afford the luxury of indifference to favours, and is said to have refused a position as Lord of the Bedchamber, because it was inconvenient; but he thanked the King nonetheless.
⁴³

His son the 3rd Duke of Portland (1738-1809) consolidated the Cavendish connection by marrying Dorothy Cavendish, daughter of the 4th Duke of Devonshire, in 1766, and by changing his own name to Cavendish-Bentinck in 1801. He was therefore the brother-in-law of the 5th Duke of Devonshire (Georgiana's husband), and while Devonshire lived in Devonshire House, Piccadilly, Portland lived down the road at Burlington House, another of his brother-in-law's properties.

The 3rd Duke was one of the best educated men in England, and the only member of the Bentinck family to assume high public office. He was Prime Minister in 1783 and 1807-9, and Home Secretary from 1794-1801. It is for his work as Home Secretary that his reputation should endure, for he belongs to the gallery of tolerant Englishmen who have helped establish the right to freedom of speech, not by noisy crusading, but by taking the principle for granted. As Home Secretary he had at his command vast arbitrary power which he refused to exert. He knew the value of leaving the expression of opinion untrammelled, and his achievement was quietly and stub­bornly to show respect for it against the more vociferous will of angry men. As Prime Minister he was less than successful. He had integrity and honour, but none of the rough ruthlessness that it takes to be a leader. His intentions were good, but weak his ability to push them. Consequently, he was regarded as a mere cypher. When he accepted the Premiership in 1807 it was with a reluctant heart, out of a sense of public duty. He was already old and gouty, feeble and unequal to the strain. The duel between Canning and Castlereagh on Wimbledon Common took place during his government, and the dis­honour and scandal were too much for him. He resigned in October 1809 and died the same month.

Walpole was scornful of him. In 1782, before his first Premiership and when he was virtually unknown, Walpole wrote, "He has lived in Ducal dudgeon with half-a-dozen toad-eaters secluded from mankind behind the ramparts of Burlington wall. ... It is very entertaining that two or three great families should persuade themselves that they have an hereditary and exclusive right of giving us a lead without a tongue."
¹⁴
Lady Elizabeth Holland was even less fair. "Of all the truly contemptible public characters in England among many", she wrote in her
Journal,
"surely his Grace of Portland stands the fore­most; his friends even dare not say a word in his behalf."
⁴⁵
While it is possible to accuse the 3rd Duke of lack of vigour, it is difficult to find anything contemptible in his career. Lady Elizabeth did not explain herself.

An interesting point is that his grandson, C. W. F. Bentinck, was grandfather to Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. The 3rd Duke of Portland is therefore an ancestor of Queen Elizabeth II.