The Duchess

by Amanda Foreman

  The sixty-year-old Whig politician paid a visit to Chatsworth in the autumn. Francis was almost certainly the author of the notorious “Junius” letters, a series of anonymous letters published in the early 1770s by the Public Advertiser which had ferociously attacked George III’s ministers. Afterwards, he moved to India and returned with a fortune in 1780. He had sudden and strong passions, such as the one which seized him for Georgiana now. He told his wife that he was bored with his stay: “As for Silence, the Abbaye de la Trappe is a mere Babel to this house. . . . the Dutchess tried to bring conversation into fashion, but to no purpose; and even poor Lady Elizabeth is not allowed to talk.”30 The letters Francis wrote to Georgiana after he left suggest a different story. “You talk of the shortness of our acquaintance, why, then,” he urged, “if all this be not mere moonshine, and if we are really and seriously to be friends, we have no time to lose.”31

  He had not expected to fall in love again at his age, and the experience awoke unaccustomed feelings in him. His letters alternated between elation and jealousy. Francis was not ashamed to confess that he had always admired Georgiana from afar: “The fact, however, is that I have known you many years, and long before the date of our acquaintance. It is true I saw you at a great distance, and as a bird of passage. The planet passed by, and knew nothing of, the poor astronomer who watched her motions and waited for transit. Hereafter, I hope, you will not insist on my seeing you through a telescope.” Georgiana’s admiration for Charles Fox tormented him. “Not at all, however, in the sense of being in love with him,” he hastily added. But the fear that “while you were writing to me, you thought of nobody but C.F.” kept him distracted: “I feel liked gummed velvet, and wish I could hate you for half an hour, that I might cut you into a thousand little stars, and live under the canopy.”32

  Georgiana was at first more frightened by her own feelings than by the strength of his. “I am ashamed of sending this letter, so incorrect, and so mad as I fear it is,” she wrote. “But I am really extremely ill indeed. I will write again when I am better; but pray write to the one who knows so well the pleasure of receiving your letters. . . . Tell me that you are not angry, and that I may write on as I think.”33 Gradually she felt more secure in expressing whatever thoughts came into her head. Francis was delighted and flattered that she was prepared to take him into her confidence. An obsessive politician himself, he enjoyed nothing more than a dispute with Georgiana over the future of Whig politics. He resented Fox’s secession from Parliament and felt that he had sacrificed the careers of his followers to feed his own vanity. “Why, what, in the name of your own idol, would you have him do?” Francis demanded to know regarding a mutual acquaintance. “Would you have him hang himself because C.F. chooses to live at St. Ann’s [sic] Hill?”34

  There is no record of how or when the correspondence ended; someone destroyed the rest of their letters. Evidence suggests that their relationship cooled after a while, although its effects were beneficial and long-lasting. Her confidence had returned and she began to venture out again in public. Little G was now seventeen, only a few months away from her presentation at court, and society mothers were extremely anxious to invite the Duchess of Devonshire and her daughter to their parties. Georgiana cautiously accepted a few invitations and was touched by the kindness she encountered. “I am overpower’d by the court all these great ladies pay me,” she wrote, half pleased and half in jest. “Lady Chatham, Ly Hardwick, Ly Leicester, Mrs Bowles, Ly Auckland, all trying to engage me to take the children to them.” But, she added, “I never dare engage anything without being sure of my company.”35

  Georgiana’s relationship with all three children had improved considerably during the past two years. Hart had started at Harrow (Clifford went with him), and the experience of living with other boys was making him less temperamental and more outgoing. Harryo was, in Georgiana’s opinion, turning into “a very clever nice girl, but I do not guess what she will be as to person, however I should not despair—I remember how many people us’d to run down my poor G—and now the same people are puffing her too much. She is a very pleasing sweet girl but no regular beauty, but she is natural and interesting and is uncommonly clever.”36 Georgiana was closest to Little G. “[You are] my dear and chosen little friend,” she told her, “for such you would have been to me had I not had the happyness of being your mother.”37 Despite their contrasting temperaments—Little Georgiana was still quiet and shy—they understood each other and shared many interests, particularly a love of books. Georgiana treasured Little G’s company so greatly that she could never bear to say a harsh word towards her. Only once was there a serious disagreement between them, when Little G was rude to Selina. Georgiana remonstrated with her, but in the gentlest of tones:

  I write to you from the bottom of my heart and with the conviction that you look upon me as your best and most affectionate friend—my life, both you and I have obligations of the most serious nature to Selina. When I was banish’d from you her watchful care preserv’d you to me. Her judgement I value beyond my own—and I feel how right she is in fearing the effect of dissipation for you—I have been desirous to indulge you—indeed doing so is the greatest pleasure my heart knows, but let me entreat you my dst G to prove to Selina by redoubled care and affection to all your dutys and employments that such indulgements are rather incitements to exertion in you than the cause of negligence or idleness. Besides she has given up so much of family contact to us that it is but fair to seem cheerful—pleased with being at Chiswick (which is likewise so good for you and given me such opportunities of coming to you).38

  But there was one subject which divided Georgiana from her children, and that was Bess. None of the Cavendish children liked her even though they accepted Caroline St. Jules and Clifford. Their view of Bess was coloured by Lady Spencer’s and Selina’s antipathy, but their dislike needed no extra encouragement. They thought her silly and affected and, in the way of children, they could sense Bess’s ambivalence towards their mother. “My mind was early opened to Lady Elizabeth’s character,” Harryo wrote many years later, “unparalleled I do believe for want of principle and delicacy, and more perverted than deceitful, for I really believe she hardly herself knows the difference between right and wrong now. circumstances have altered her conduct and situation at different times but she has invariably been what even [as] a child I understood and despised.”39 Both Harriet’s and Georgiana’s children enjoyed tormenting Bess, although Caroline St. Jules never joined them. Harriet’s daughter Caroline Ponsonby once satirized Bess’s artificial manner.

  I have been studying to make myself Mad and uncommon and everything thats dear and delightful but Have not been able to attain to the perfection of giving all the House a Headache. My dearest Love, believe me that all my professions of amitié I made you at Chiswick are sincere as Lasting. Ah, what pleasure I enjoyed whilst the children (pronounced with a contemptuous mean) amused themselves at the Bench; what pleasure I say, we enjoyed pacing up and down the Lawn and expressing by words and actions our sincere Friendship.40

  Georgiana could not properly explain Bess’s place in the household without going into embarrassing details. But she tried to show her children that she loved Bess and trusted her implicitly. “Think of Dearest Bess,” she told Little G on one occasion. “She thought I wanted some money and sent me, Dear Love, £100. I did not want it but feel equally her dear kindness.”41 The fact that the Duke of Richmond had still not proposed to Bess made Georgiana sad for her, knowing that she had staked her future on the marriage. Georgiana, Harriet, and Bess had been waiting since 1797 for him to formalize the relationship, and at various times, when an announcement seemed imminent, said their goodbyes and exchanged their fond reminiscences. During one of these false alarms Harriet wrote to Leveson Gower: “What adds I believe to my stupidity is great anxiety at this moment concerning Bess if she marries the D. of Richmond (mind there is nothing settled). It seems quite a separation from us all, and changing the ha
bits of fifteen years standing is always a serious thing, especially at our age.”42

  The Duke of Richmond’s hesitation became an embarrassment to Bess. Not only did it highlight the objections of his family, it reminded people of Bess’s history. There was much conjecture at the delay: Lady Holland, whose elopement with Lord Holland gave her no right to comment on Bess’s morals, thought it a wonderful joke. “His conduct by Ly E. Foster is very unaccountable,” she wrote in her diary on March 26, 1799. “He is always talking and writing as if he intended to marry her, and yet the marriage is not more advanced than it was two years ago. . . . Lady E. is very hopeful for it.”43 When Bess brought up the subject of their marriage the Duke’s answers were reassuring and yet equivocal, leaving her with little alternative but to wait until he made up his mind. “Burn this when you have read it,” Georgiana wrote to Little G after Bess had confronted Richmond over the delay:

  I found dr Bess tollerably well tho’ a good deal push’d. I find from her that she is perfectly satisfied with the D of R’s conduct to her. That she has had conversations with him in which he has entrusted her with circumstances that acct for everything that may appear odd to others and that she has every reason to be satisfyed with his conduct towards [her] and to feel secure of his friendship and esteem and attachment—time alone therefore can decide as to the event. . . . Upon the whole I think Bess [illeg.] and right in wishing to avoid the questions and remarks of people by keeping out of the way—it is an embarrassing situation—but it must be a satisfaction to her to have no cause of complaint against a person she has known so long.44

  Bess’s frustration with her own life was increased by her jealousy of Georgiana. There was as yet, however, no real cause for her to worry. The Duke of Richmond still showed every sign of proposing, and Georgiana still suffered from many handicaps, not least her debts. Periodically she would have a crisis—a call for repayment or trouble from an angry creditor—and she would beg her weary friends and family for further assistance. In April 1799, after another of her dramatic appeals for money, George complained to Lady Spencer that there was “always a great degree of mystery and concealment about the whole subject.”45 “She assures me there is no more owing (but alas I know not how to rely upon her),” wrote Lady Spencer.46 Georgiana had sworn she had confessed all her debts to the Duke after her return from exile; although everyone wanted to believe her they suspected she was concealing the truth. “She is and always will be imprudent in the highest degree,” Lady Spencer was forced to admit, “but I trust in God she is not intentionally dishonest.”47

  The only fragment that remains from Georgiana’s personal diary illustrates the extent to which her secret debts made her suffer. Although undated, it refers to the shipwreck of her friend Thomas Grenville, who was on a diplomatic mission to Berlin. His ship, the Proserpine, sank in February 1799 after hitting ice. Grenville was one of the few passengers who survived. His death was presumed for over a week and the news affected Georgiana quite badly for “tho’ I seldom saw him now, but a friendship of 20 years in above circumstances. I heard so kindly from him during the little interval of his voyages.”48 In the diary her grief at his supposed drowning is interposed with despair about her financial situation—someone was harassing her for money.

  It begins on a Monday: “I heard of Grenville.” For Tuesday she wrote, “the climax of everything disagreeable. Teazings of all kinds and my own mind almost worn out—I did what I could, but by an omission I miss’d the only favourable opportunity of improving my situation.” On Wednesday she slipped off to church unaccompanied and “humbled myself in the most lowly manner and prayed devoutly for poor Grenville.” Thursday: “I rode with G and just before heard the confirmation of millions of unpleasantnesses and humiliations. The horses started and I was very nervous.” A few days later: “the joy of Mr Grenville’s safety—great happiness all day.” Then, the following week, on Monday, “a vexatious letter”; however: “happy terminations of some things and relief; but my poor child ill.” Tuesday: “My child ill, but some good circumstances to other things.” Wednesday: “In some things very much teazed and unhappy. But my child better.” Thursday: “extremely good day.” Friday: “remarkably good day. Saturday also.” But on Monday, disaster: “One of the wretched days of my life. I have too much perhaps presumed on my relief, and am again plunged deep and whole series of black and ungrateful perfidy has come to my knowledge.” Tuesday: “What this day will bring I know not. It begins ill enough and looks like a day of trouble but I trust and hope. New wounds of perfidy. I have not made a proper use of the short liv’d prosperity. I have not done ill but I have suffered some evil to creep over me. Ah misera, quanto sera da me.”49

  As terrible as the fragment sounds, Georgiana did not live like this every day. There were often long periods of calm. She grew less reluctant to receive visitors and resumed the practice of holding select dinners for the Whigs who still attended Parliament. Charles Grey once again stopped by every evening to discuss the day’s events in the Commons.50 When Sheridan began work on a tragedy called Pizarro, adapted from the highly successful play by Kotzebue, Die Spanier in Peru, he invited Georgiana to contribute a song. The play’s patriotic theme of an embattled people fighting against a barbaric opponent struck a chord with audiences. It opened on May 24, ran for an unprecedented thirty-one nights, and sold more than 30,000 copies.51 According to Sheridan’s biographer, Georgiana’s song became a success in its own right.52

  She followed up her collaboration with Sheridan by preparing one of her poems for publication. She had started The Passage of the Mountain of St. Gothard, which describes her homeward crossing from Italy into Switzerland, when she was still in exile. Although she wrote The Passage in the form of a travel poem (“I wander where Tesino madly flows,/from cliff to cliff in foaming eddies tossed”) it contained a veiled apology to her children for leaving them. “Italy, farewell!” Georgiana wrote in the first stanza. “To thee a parent, sister I consign . . . Whilst every step conducts me nearer home.” She climbed the winding pass, “My weary footsteps hoped for rest in vain, / Steep on steep in rude confusion rose,” seeking shelter where she could, “where some bright hours are found/Amidst the darkest, dreariest years of care.” The path took her behind waterfalls and around hanging rocks until she reached Lucerne. Pausing only long enough to say, “Farewell, Helvetia! from whose lofty breast Proud Alps arise, and copious rivers flow,” Georgiana continued on her journey home. In the last stanza she spoke directly to her children:

  Hope of my life! dear children of my heart!

  That anxious heart, to each fond feeling true,

  To you still pants each pleasure to impart,

  And more—O transport!—reach its home to you.

  Once Georgiana was satisfied with The Passage she distributed a number of copies to her friends and family, telling them she would add her own illustrations later. Somehow a printer got hold of one of the copies and a pirate edition appeared in the Morning Chronicle, full of mistakes and misprints which horrified and embarrassed Georgiana. However, the poem was an immediate success, far outselling a prose work of hers entitled Memorandums of the Face of the Country in Switzerland.*53 There is no record of the children’s reaction to the poem; only Little G, possibly, would have been old enough to understand Georgiana’s feelings when she wrote it.

  Mother and daughter had become inseparable. Georgiana wanted little G’s coming out to be a success, and she forced herself to chaperone her daughter to every party. The Devonshires held a magnificent ball and supper at Devonshire House to mark her first season. The household clattered with activity in the days before the ball: chairs were pushed back against the walls of the drawing room, the chandeliers polished, and extra glasses brought out from the store. No one turned down Georgiana’s invitation. Some came out of curiosity, others out of loyalty, and a few out of nostalgia; all were surprised by the ease with which she had recaptured the atmosphere of Devonshire House parties. According to the
Morning Herald the ball was a triumph: “On Friday evening the Duchess of Devonshire gave a brilliant Ball and supper at Devonshire House, at which all the first fashion of both sexes were present.”54

  Georgiana’s reentry into society coincided with the Prince of Wales’s return to respectability after his notorious affair with Lady Jersey. Freed from Lady Jersey’s influence, the Prince was anxious to be re-admitted into the Devonshire House Circle. His friendship with Georgiana resumed at the level of its former intimacy, as if there had never been a breach. The Morning Herald announced their reconciliation in September 1799, with a report of their joint trip to the theatre: “The Prince of Wales, Lord Moira, the Duchess of Devonshire, and her accomplished daughters, were at the Haymarket Theatre on Saturday night. On the entrance of his Royal Highness, God Save the King, was loudly called for and sang, amidst the reiterated plaudits of the whole audience, who seemed to feel an ecstatic pride in the presence of their Prince.”55

  Those who knew Georgiana well noticed how she had gained in self-assurance since her illness: she was more confident not only about her appearance but also about her intellectual capabilities. She stopped apologizing for her enthusiasm for politics and made no attempt to disguise her interest in Napoleon’s progress. In her opinion Pitt had badly misjudged the French in fighting them on land rather than on the seas. “These are my own ideas,” she wrote in a letter dated October 13, 1799: