The Duchess

by Amanda Foreman

  The family went to Chatsworth in the autumn so that Little G would be able to mix with her possible suitors in a more relaxed setting. Georgiana was perplexed by the Duke of Bedford’s behaviour: he seemed interested and yet disinclined to act, as if he knew what was expected of him but was half minded to rebel. James Hare agreed with Georgiana that “a certain person’s behaviour is unaccountable.”19 Little G gave no indication that she had a preference for anyone, and Georgiana, remembering how her own parents had influenced Harriet and herself without meaning to, did not want to press her. By November Bedford was still dilly-dallying when Morpeth started a determined campaign to woo Little G. The courtship proved to be awkward since Little G was so shy. “It is impossible to explain exactly the state of things here,” wrote Georgiana. “It is no fancy of mine, but Hare and D of D who have no doubt of his intentions, and she certainly retards the declaration, but yet she seems to like his society . . .”20

  By mid-December everyone at Chatsworth was watching the couple with undisguised interest. There was a collective sigh of relief just before Christmas when Morpeth finally had the courage to propose and was accepted. Georgiana still had reservations, however; she feared that his total disregard for religion would upset Little G, and his penchant for gambling reminded her too much of herself. But Little G seemed genuinely happy, and although Georgiana had hoped her daughter would become the Duchess of Bedford, Morpeth was not a bad match. Lady Spencer also approved: “Indeed,” she told George, “I see much to hope and think well of this marriage—especially if one thinks of what might have happened surrounded as she is by Fosters, Lambs, and a D of Bedford.”21 The Duke of Devonshire showed his pleasure with a generous settlement of £30,000 on Little G, and arranged for her to have £1,500-a-year pin money. It was unfortunate that Morpeth had only a small allowance, which his father was not prepared to increase. Georgiana, who had learned a good deal about the psychology of money over the years, advised the Duke not to be too generous in the beginning because it would circumscribe his actions later when, for example, Morpeth entered Parliament and required more help.

  Lady Harriet Spencer (1761–1821), by Reynolds, after she became Lady Bessborough. When the Duke ordered Georgiana into exile, Harriet declared, “Wherever she goes I will go with her.”

  Attributed as Frederick, Lord Bessborough (1758–1844), after Reynolds. His treatment of Harriet appalled those who witnessed it.

  “The Devonshire, or Most Approved Method of Securing Votes,” April 12, 1784. Caricature of Harriet and Georgiana canvassing during the 1784 Westminster election, by Rowlandson. BM Cat. 6520.

  R. B. Sheridan (1715–1816), by John Hoppner. “He cannot resist playing a sly game,” Georgiana complained.

  James Hare (1749–1804), after Reynolds. Hare helped Georgiana through some of her worst troubles.

  Whig statesmen and their friends, c. 1810, by William Lane. From left to right: William, fifth Duke of Devonshire; Henry, third Lord Holland; William, second Earl Fitzwilliam; bust of Charles James Fox; John, first Lord Crewe; Frederick, third Earl Bessborough; John, second Earl of Upper Ossory; Dudley Long North; General Richard Fitzpatrick; George, first Marquess Cholmondeley; George, second Marquess Townshend; Lord Robert Spencer; St. Andrew, thirteenth Baron St. John.

  Above left: Francis, fifth Duke of Bedford (1765– 1802), by John Hoppner. Although one of the many friends who lent Georgiana money for her gambling debts, he was one of the few who would not be placated when she failed to repay him.

  Above right: Elizabeth, Viscountess Melbourne (1752–1818), by Thomas Phillips. She was a successful Whig hostess before Georgiana entered society but took great pains not to be seen in competition with her.

  Right: Georgiana, Lady Melbourne, and Mrs. Dawson Damer depicted as the “Witches Round the Cauldron,” by Daniel Gardner.

  Left: George, second Earl Spencer, by John Singleton Copley. Georgiana’s brother is wearing robes of the Order of the Garter, an honour awarded to him in 1799 in recognition of his services as First Lord of the Admiralty.

  Below: House of Commons in 1793, by K. A. Hickel. Pitt is shown addressing the House. Addington, later Prime Minister, is in the Speaker’s Chair. Fox is seated on the right, wearing a hat.

  Lord Morpeth (1773–1848), by Henry Birch. After his marriage to “Little G,” he joined the Whig party.

  George Canning (1770–1827), after Lawrence. Canning convinced Georgiana in 1803 that Pitt and Fox might reach an understanding.

  South view of Castle Howard, by William Marlow.

  The ballroom of Devonshire House, c. 1920, shortly before the house was sold.

  The demolition of Devonshire House. In 1925 developers tore it down to make way for a block of luxury flats.

  “A Certain Duchess Kissing Old Swelter-in-Grease the Butcher for his Vote,” April 1784. This caricature of Georgiana during the Westminster election was one of the many cartoons that accused her of kissing butchers in exchange for votes. BM Cat. 6533.

  “L’Assemblée Nationale: —or —Grand Co-operation Meeting at St. Ann’s [sic] Hill,” by Gilray, published in 1804, shows a reception given by Mr. and Mrs. Fox for various factions of the Opposition. The three Grenville brothers—Lord Buckingham, Lord Grenville, and Thomas Grenville—are in the foreground bowing to Fox. Georgiana, Harriet, and George, second Earl Spencer, are pictured together, standing behind the seated Mrs. Fox. Georgiana carries a fan inscribed The Devonshire Delight or the new Coalition Reel. Among the many guests who have come to pay court is the Duchess of Gordon (far left), wearing tartan drapery. Mrs. Fitzherbert is sitting on the sofa in semi-state, while she receives the fawning attention of Lord Carlisle. BM Cat. 10253

  Charles and Mary Grey were among the first people to be informed by Georgiana, who knew how much it would mean to Mary that she had taken the trouble to inform her personally. Mary was genuinely attached to her: some years after Georgiana’s death she gave Hart a portrait of his mother which she had held in safekeeping: “I value it more than anything I possess,” she explained.22 The Prince of Wales was particularly effusive when he heard the news, calling Georgiana “my dear sister,” and referring to the widespread joy in “the numerous circle in which you are so beloved.”23 It was as if he had banished the past ten years with a stroke of the pen. Lady Jersey was not quite so generous in her letter of congratulation. Georgiana was indignant when she saw that the letter contained no mention of Little G, referring only to Morpeth’s peerless qualities. This was a great cheek, she complained, “especially as where she founds her affection for him upon [their short-lived affair], long acquaintance cannot be full of very favourable recollections.”24

  Everyone else was sincere or, as in Bess’s case, sincerely trying to be sincere. “I have ever lov’d you so much as if you were mine,” she declared. “Believe me, no mother ever pray’d more fervently for her dear child’s happiness than I do for yours.”25 What she said was no doubt true but it was not the whole truth. Her own Caroline, handicapped by her illegitimacy, could never hope to make such an illustrious marriage. She would never be presented at court, never have her “year” like Georgiana’s daughters. Little G’s engagement also reminded Bess of how poorly her own marriage prospects had progressed. She was miserable waiting for the Duke of Richmond to propose; the years were slipping away and she was beginning to wonder if she had fallen into a trap, wasting her looks and the residue of her youth on a worthless venture.

  While Bess was endeavouring to be happy for Little G she received news that Lady Bristol had died. She and her mother had been growing apart for some time and Bess had not even known she was ill, but it provided the perfect outlet for her feelings. She took to her bed and produced such alarming physical symptoms that the household interrupted its rejoicing to wonder whether Bess was about to die of grief. Some of the less sympathetically inclined dismissed it as an act. Even James Hare found her performance mildly funny and upset Georgiana by pointing out that Bess was so affected she did not know what it
meant to be natural. Georgiana guessed that Bess’s unhappiness was complicated by the Duke of Richmond’s prevarication. She informed him of her illness and added, “I am afraid previous to this she was, with reason, extremely uneasy.”26 Two weeks later Bess tried to force Richmond into action by announcing that she had decided to quit England on account of her mother’s death: “But a little time and I shall probably leave this dear country forever.” It would be all right, she wrote disingenuously, because Caroline will have “abler protection from the Dss and Georgiana than I could give her.”27 Richmond gave no sign that he even recognized the hint.

  Bess was, therefore, in some desperation when she offered to stay behind and nurse the Duke of Devonshire while Georgiana took Little G down to London to buy her trousseau.* The marriage was set for March

  21. Bess’s “altruism” set people talking at once although Georgiana defended her to Hare and anyone else who referred to the situation. Meanwhile, Bess wrote to the Duke of Richmond assuring him there was nothing to worry about: “I am aware how much it may renew old stories, and he has been uneasy about it, but I have told him how little I mind if it does so, and have made him consent to my staying. For myself I feel a gratification in having an opportunity of shewing how deep I feel the excessive kindness of all his conduct to me.”28 It was a clear threat to Richmond that if he did not propose soon he would find himself replaced by the Duke.

  “Seriously,” James Hare wrote to Georgiana on January 27, 1801, “I am very much delighted at having got so well acquainted with you, for before I went to Chatsworth this year I never fancied, and never even gave myself the air of knowing you.”29 This was from the man who knew about her debts, Charles Grey, and Eliza. He was remarking on something that other people had also noticed: Georgiana had become more open, more approachable. Devonshire House was filled with callers again, as in former times, although Georgiana could not always receive them: her health had never properly recovered since the infection in 1796. The sight in her remaining eye was poor and she was becoming frail, continually subject to coughs, colds, migraines, and intestinal troubles. Dr. Erasmus Darwin, the grandfather of Charles, recommended the dubious practice of submitting Georgiana to powerful electric shocks, using primitive electrodes placed above the temples as a way of “galvanizing” her eye. As a form of ocular therapy the contraption was useless, but bizarrely it may have worked as an early form of shock treatment. It certainly did her no obvious harm despite the fact that it could deliver a hundred shocks a minute.

  Reading and writing were difficult for Georgiana now, and sometimes the pain in her eye forced her to dictate letters. But she did not allow her disability to interfere with her voluminous correspondence. There had been important developments since the crushing of the Irish rebellion and Napoleon’s defeat in Egypt. Napoleon had set sail for France in August 1799 and on November 9 seized power from the Directory in a coup d’état. Since its members were distrusted as a collection of “thieves in white linen” by the French, and despised as fanatics and amateurs in Europe, Napoleon’s audacity in proclaiming himself First Consul caused little ripple. He was a successful soldier and seemed to be above politics. Most people, both inside and outside France, hoped his arrival signalled the end of the revolution and the return of calmer times.

  Napoleon certainly encouraged the thought: in December he made a personal offer of peace to each of France’s enemies. However, the British government did not take his overtures very seriously since he had broken every treaty he had ever made: Prussia, Naples, and Venice had all suffered for their misplaced trust. William Pitt went down to the House of Commons on February 3, 1800, and announced to the assembled MPs that the government was determined to pursue the war. The House voted on the issue and Pitt won decisively by 265 to 64. The numbers were misleading, however: 64 was a respectable showing for the opposition. More importantly, the debate brought Fox out of his retirement. He made one of his most impassioned speeches, pointing to the intransigence of a government that was not even prepared to consider peace. Fox’s allegation that Pitt was blinkered by his hostility to the revolution met with approval outside Parliament. People were tired of the war, and expressing a desire for peace was no longer considered treacherous talk. The Whigs sensed this shift in national opinion and attendance at the Whig Club meetings reached double figures again. In July 1800 Sheridan went to Woburn Abbey, the Duke of Bedford’s seat, and found the core of the party present, including Fox, the Duke of Devonshire, Richard Fitzpatrick, and Charles Grey. Even if they weren’t sure why—there was no chance of defeating Pitt—the Whigs were coming together.

  The threat that a rebellious Ireland posed to British security convinced Pitt that the two countries had to become united under a single government. If Ireland became part of Britain like Scotland and Wales, he reasoned, it would have equal status and enjoy equal prosperity with the rest of the country. Pitt also wanted emancipation for Irish Catholics, seeing it as the only guarantee against civil war. The Devonshires supported Catholic emancipation but could not see the point of a Union. Georgiana dismissed the idea as “madness” because of the destabilizing effect it would have on the existing hierarchy. Sheridan was also opposed, arguing that it represented nothing less than the annexation of a separate country. Fox had refused to become involved: “I therefore consider my political life as over,” he explained to Robert Adair.30 Pitt used every means available to persuade both the English and Irish parliaments to vote for his measure, offering bribes, jobs, and peerages where needed. The Union officially took place on January 1, 1801, and 100 Irish MPs were added to the House of Commons, bringing the total number to 658.

  Five weeks later, on February 5, 1801, to the astonishment of the nation, Pitt stepped down from office, ostensibly over the King’s refusal to grant Catholic emancipation. He felt it would be national suicide to leave in Ireland a permanent underclass of disenfranchised and disaffected Catholics. The King, on the other hand, believed that giving Catholics the same political rights as Protestants, including admitting them as MPs to Parliament, would be a betrayal of his Coronation Oath to uphold the Constitution. George III was taking an extremely narrow view, although widespread at the time, about the constitutional position of minority faiths. Pitt disagreed with him and he therefore resigned as a matter of principle. No one believed this at the time: Fox thought there had been a “juggle” of some kind. After seventeen years of uninterrupted and unchallenged rule no one dreamt that Pitt could just walk away.

  There were, of course, several contributing factors to Pitt’s resignation. He was exhausted from months of unremitting strain—indeed, he had suffered a minor nervous breakdown in October 1800. He was ill, crippled with gout, demoralized by the lack of progress in the war, fed up with the infighting of his cabinet, tired of having to placate George III over Britain’s military setbacks, and genuinely appalled by the King’s refusal to allow Catholic emancipation alongside Irish Union. All these played a part. But Pitt’s decision was ultimately prompted by the loss of George III’s support. When the King heard that Pitt definitely planned to introduce legislation regarding the Catholics, he publicly stated his opposition at a crowded levée. He approached Henry Dundas, the minister for war, and said in a raised voice: “What is the Question which you are all about to force upon me? . . .I will tell you, that I shall look at every Man as my personal Enemy, who proposes that Question to me,” and added, “I hope All my Friends will not desert me.”31 This was exactly the same language, even the same words, that the King had used seventeen years earlier when he turned Charles Fox out of office. Pitt had ridden into power on the back of the King’s message to the Lords that “whoever voted for [Fox’s] India Bill was not only not his friend but would be considered by him as an enemy.”32 When Pitt heard about the King’s attack on Dundas he knew he was finished and rather than wait to be dismissed, as Fox had done, he resigned.

  CHAPTER 21

  PEACE

  1801–1802

  The Du
chess of Devonshire was last week much indisposed, but her friends were yesterday gratified by her reappearance in public. In the evening her Grace attended a musical party, under her patronage, at the King’s Head, for the Benefit of Mademoiselle Morelle, a celebrated performer on the harp. The company consisted upwards of 300 distinguished characters. She is a charming performer, and a graceful figure. A small stage was erected for her, at the upper end of the room which is lofty. Her performance consisted of a military slow movement, Rondo, Sonata, with Cramer’s Grand March, followed by Mazzinghi’s favourite sonata in G. with several airs, by the Duchess’s particular desire. The evening went off with great éclat and was succeeded by a Ball, which continued to a late hour.