Читать книгу The Duchess - Amanda Foreman - Страница 10

Saturday Morning the Derbyshire Militia passed through the city on their road to Cox Heath. The Duke of Devonshire marched at their head. The whole regiment made a very noble appearance, equal to any regulars whatever. If the militia of the other counties prove but as good, there is no doubt but that they are a match for any force that can be brought against them. The Duchess of Devonshire followed the regiment, dressed en militaire, and was escorted by several attendants.

London Chronicle, 20–23 June 1778

One day last week, her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire appeared on the hustings at Covent Garden. She immediately saluted her favourite Candidate, the Hon. Charles Fox.

Morning Post, 25 September 1780

GEORGIANA’S POLITICAL AWAKENING coincided with a disastrous year for the Whigs. The Declaration of Independence of 4 July 1776 proclaimed the American colonies ‘Free and Independent States … absolved from all allegiance to the British crown’. The Whigs supported the colonists against the government but their rousing talk of safeguarding the liberty of the people had signally failed to impress the country. The public rejected their contention that the government was at fault for having tried to force an unjust system of taxation on the colonists, and the press accused the party of conniving with Britain’s enemies to break up the empire. It was an unfair accusation although it touched on a dilemma for the Whigs: they viewed the American conflict through the prism of Westminster politics and regarded it as part of the struggle between the people and the crown. For this reason they privately hoped that the Americans would win.

In February 1778 France entered the war on the side of the Americans, transforming what had hitherto been a set of military skirmishes in New England into a trans-continental war. Britain now had to fight on several fronts. Shaken by this new threat, the Prime Minister Lord North hoped to strengthen the cabinet by poaching Charles Fox and one or two others, but his overtures were rejected. The debates in parliament became bitter as Whig and government MPs accused each other of betraying the country’s interests. The sense of crisis was heightened in April by the dramatic death of William Pitt the Elder during a debate in the House of Lords. The former Prime Minister, now the Earl of Chatham, had risen from his sick bed to make his final speech. He arrived draped in black velvet, and dragged himself to his old seat with the help of crutches. Speaking in the government’s defence, he argued that a surrender to the Americans would signal the end of the empire – the empire he had won for Britain almost thirty years earlier. Only the Duke of Richmond, Fox’s uncle and a committed Whig, dared to answer the respected statesman. He argued that it was impossible to fight a war on two fronts against the Americans and the French. Chatham slowly pulled himself to his feet to reply, but no words came out. He shuddered, clutched his heart and collapsed to the floor. To many MPs Chatham’s death in the throes of a patriotic speech seemed to symbolize Britain’s approaching demise.

Having enjoyed two years of a distant war, the country now began to mobilize its defences against the threat of a French invasion. As Lord Lieutenant of Derbyshire the Duke of Devonshire returned to the country to organize a voluntary militia. Most able-bodied men were either already in the army or in stable employment; those available to join the home defence force made unpromising material. This did not deter the aristocracy, who threw themselves into the task of training their corps with almost childish enthusiasm. Many of them proudly wore their regimental uniforms to the King’s birthday celebrations at St James’s.¹

Since the French were likely to target London first, the government set up two campsites for its protection: Coxheath in Kent and Warley in Essex. So many sightseers flocked to the camps that a London – Coxheath coach service started. The London Chronicle reported that Coxheath camp would be three miles long, holding 15,000 men and representing the ‘flower of the nobility’. Workers were building a stone pavilion in anticipation of a royal visit. Meanwhile ‘the Tradespeople of the neighbouring places are deserting their town residents, and are likewise encamping round us in the various temporary streets. The whole will form one of the most striking military spectacles ever exhibited in the country.’²

Georgiana accompanied the Duke to Coxheath, where they were joined by many of their friends. She was enthralled by the spectacle of thousands of men mobilizing for war. She walked behind the Duke as he inspected his regiment, imagining herself bravely leading a battalion of men in a bloody engagement against the invaders. Although women were not usually tolerated on the field, the officers indulged her desire to take part in the preparations. ‘There is a vacant company which the soldiers call mine,’ she confided to her brother. ‘I intend to make it a very good one.’³ The Duke rented a large house for her nearby, but she persuaded him to allow her to live in the camp with him. Their ‘tent’ was made up of several marquees, arranged into a compound of sleeping quarters, entertaining rooms, kitchens and a servants’ hall. Refusing to equate a state of readiness with austerity, Georgiana decorated it with travelling tables, oriental rugs and silver candlesticks from Chatsworth. Nevertheless conditions in the camp were primitive and sanitary arrangements non-existent.

Her letters during these weeks are full of military matters – manoeuvres and parades. In May she wrote to Lady Spencer:

I got up very early and went to the field. The soldiers fir’d very well and I stood by the Duke and Cl Gladwin, who were near enough to have their faces smart with gun-powder, but I was not fortunate enough to have this honour. After the firing was over, Major Revel, whose gout prevents him from walking, sat a horseback to be saluted as General. The Duke of Devonshire took his post at the head of his company, and after marching about they came by Major Revel and saluted him. The D. really does it vastly well …⁴

By mid-June, however, Georgiana was feeling less welcome on the field: the Duke had grown tired of her presence and the soldiers no longer regarded her as a novelty. She stopped loitering around the guns and reluctantly joined her friends in their card parties, carriage rides and jolly picnics on the hills overlooking the camp. Over veal cake and tea with Lady Melbourne and Mrs Crewe she discovered that they too were bored and wished to do more than simply observe the soldiers. Their complaints gave her courage. It occurred to her that even though women were barred from taking part in military action, there was nothing to stop her from organizing a female auxiliary corps. She had soon designed a smart uniform that combined elegance with masculinity, using a tailored version of a man’s riding coat over a close-fitting dress. In July the Morning Post informed its readers: ‘Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire appears every day at the head of the beauteous Amazons on Coxheath, who are all dressed en militaire; in the regimentals that distinguish the several regiments in which their Lords, etc., serve, and charms every beholder with their beauty and affability.’⁵ She continued to parade throughout the summer, inspiring women in other camps to follow suit. The Marchioness of Granby bought a half share in a sixteen-gun ship and had it renamed after her.⁶

Although Georgiana and her friends did little more than dress up in uniforms and provide good cheer for the men, she had broken with tradition. For the first time aristocratic women organized themselves as a voluntary group, taking up duties to help their men in time of war. Following the publicity they generated Georgiana was particularly gratified by the congratulations she received from the Whig grandees. Her idea of dressing up in patriotic uniforms was a propaganda coup for the Whigs, who had suffered for their opposition to the war. They had been labelled by the press as ‘Patriots’ in reference to Dr Johnson’s apothegm about patriotism being the last refuge of the scoundrel. Georgiana’s display of military fervour helped to mitigate public hostility towards them and restore the party’s popularity.

Georgiana’s pleasure at her success was short-lived: one day she discovered that the Duke and Lady Jersey had been taking advantage of her parades through the camp to visit each other’s tents. Possibly jealous of the attention Georgiana was receiving and feeling neglected, the Duke made no effort to keep the affair a secret. Lady Jersey went further and flaunted her conquest in front of Georgiana, who was too frightened and inexperienced to assert herself.⁷ Lady Jersey regarded all married men – except her husband, who was twice her age – as an irresistible challenge. (When a ribald article appeared about her in the Morning Post in 1777 it shocked only Lord Jersey. They happened to be staying at Chatsworth at the time and he embarrassed everyone by announcing that he loved his wife and would ‘shew the world he did not believe them’.)⁸ Lady Jersey always tormented the wives of her conquests, and fond though she was of Georgiana she couldn’t resist the urge to humiliate her friend. According to Lady Clermont, she ‘asked the Duchess if she could give her a bed [at Coxheath]. She said she was afraid not, the other said, “then I will have a bed in your room.” So that in the house she is to be. Pray, write to the Duchess,’ she asked Lady Spencer, ‘that you hope, in short, I don’t know what …’⁹

Georgiana’s timidity puzzled her mother – although hurt and mortified it seems that she said nothing to either party. For once Lady Spencer showed a certain sensitivity and, instead of remonstrating with her daughter, made an unaccustomed effort to praise her and boost her confidence. ‘Your behaviour is in every respect just what it ought to be,’ she wrote in July, referring to Georgiana’s visit to nearby Tunbridge Wells. A local newspaper had reported that the townspeople felt snubbed by the grandees at Coxheath, so Georgiana attended the Assembly Rooms with Lady Clermont and Mrs Crewe, where the master of ceremonies welcomed them to much applause. ‘I believe it with great reason,’ Lady Spencer continued, ‘that if you continue as you have begun you will gain the love and admiration of all who see you.’^*12

It was not long, however, before the chiding resumed: ‘I suspect’, she complained in August, ‘you put on … a great deal more familiarity and ease than is necessary or proper to the men about you.’¹³ As usual, Lady Spencer’s criticisms were not without cause. ‘I believe the Dss of D one of the most amiable beings in the world,’ Mrs Montagu wrote after meeting her at Tunbridge Wells. ‘She has a form and face extremely angelick, her temper is perfectly sweet, she has fine parts, the greatest purity of heart and innocence possible.’ But, Mrs Montagu added, ‘as goodness thinks no ill where no ill seems, she does not keep so far aloof from the giddy and imprudent part of the World as one could wish.’¹⁴

The liaison between Lady Jersey and the Duke was shortlived. Fortunately for Georgiana, Lady Spencer ordered an end to the affair. Angered by Georgiana’s unwillingness to interfere, she had called on Lady Jersey and outlined the consequences she would face if it continued.¹¹ The Spencers also gave the Duke to understand that they were disgusted with him.

By the time the King and Queen made their long-awaited official visit to Coxheath on 4 November 1778, Lady Jersey had acquired a new lover. The rain poured down on the day – ‘cats and dogs,’ Georgiana complained – and while the Duke marched his soldiers past the King, Georgiana led the delegation of ladies standing in slippery mud up to their ankles waiting on the Queen. Georgiana’s discomfort was greatly increased by the onset of what she termed ‘the Prince’, a common euphemism for menstruation. Although the rain prevented many of the planned manoeuvres from taking place, the newspapers considered the visit a success. According to Georgiana, the Duke of Devonshire was ‘reckon’d to have saluted the best of anybody’.¹⁰ However, the Devonshires’ patriotism did not extend to spending the winter in a mud pit; immediately after the royal visit they returned to Devonshire House.

Georgiana’s sense of isolation had increased as a result of the Duke’s adultery. Her ebullience became a screen which she employed to distance herself from people. She did not mind public occasions, but quiet tête-à-têtes made her uncomfortable and she tried to avoid them, though not always with success. Her reluctance to give offence made her incapable of declining an invitation. ‘I am to dine with Lady Jersey,’ Georgiana wrote to Lady Spencer a few months later. ‘To tell you the truth tho’ I love her tenderly, I have learnt to feel a kind of uneasiness in being with her, that makes our society very general – I am discontented in being with her and can’t tell her so, et ma bonhomie en souffre.’^15* Despite her unease, she continued to behave towards Lady Jersey as if nothing had happened.

Other inhabitants of the camp were less fortunate than Lady Jersey – not all escaped the consequences of their actions so lightly. Lady Melbourne became pregnant with Lord Egremont’s child while Lady Clermont’s affair with the local apothecary resulted in a secret abortion. But it was Lady Derby and the Duke of Dorset who, in social terms, paid the highest price.¹⁶ Lady Mary Coke saw them together in June and rued Lady Derby’s recklessness. She wrote in her diary: ‘Lady Derby, like the Duchess of Devonshire, has bad connexions which lead her into many things that she had better not do, and for which I am sorry …’¹⁷ Her intuition proved correct. In December 1778 Lady Derby fled from her husband’s house, leaving behind her children and all her belongings. It was a widely broadcast secret that she was hiding with the Duke of Dorset. Her desertion broke one of eighteenth-century society’s strongest taboos regarding the sanctity of the family and a wife’s obedience to her husband. According to Lady Mary Coke, she had ‘offended against the laws of man and God’.¹⁸ She heard that Lady Derby’s brother the Duke of Hamilton was trying to force the Duke of Dorset to sign a legal document agreeing to marry her as soon as the divorce came through. There were other rumours: Lady Derby was pregnant; the Duke of Dorset had made another mistress pregnant; he was now in love with someone else. In February, two months after the initial excitement, Lady Sarah Lennox had this to say to her sister:

It is imagined the Duke of Dorset will marry Lady Derby, who is now in the country keeping quiet and out of the way. There is a sort of party in town of who is to visit her and who is not, which makes great squabbles, as if the curse or blessing of the poor woman depended on a few tickets more or less … I am told she has been and still is more thoroughly attached to the Duke of Dorset, and if so I suppose she will be very happy if the lessening of her visiting list is the only misfortune, and what with giving up her children, sorrow for a fault, and dread of not preserving his affections, I think she is much to be pittied.¹⁹

The ‘party’ who went to visit her consisted mostly of the younger generation of Whigs – Lady Carlisle and Lady Jersey in particular. Georgiana was caught between her friends, who sought the additional weight of her celebrity, and her parents, who forbade her to have anything more to do with the unfortunate woman. Everyone was waiting to see what Georgiana would do, said Lady Mary Coke, ‘lest such bad company should influence her’.²⁰ Georgiana argued that it would be hypocritical of her to cut Lady Derby. Fearing her father’s temper, she begged Lady Spencer not to tell him of her request to accompany her friends:

I have the greatest horror of her crime, I can not nor do not try to excuse her. But her conduct has been long imprudent, and yet, I have sup’d at her house, and I have enter’d with her into any scheme of amusement, etc., and now it does seem shocking to me, that at the time this poor creature is in distress, that at the time all her grandeur is crush’d around her, I should entirely abandon her, as if I said, I know you was imprudent formerly, but then you had a gay house and great suppers and so I came to you but now that you have nothing of all this, I will avoid you.²¹

The Spencers disagreed. They gave Georgiana a choice: either she dropped Lady Derby or they would never allow her sister Harriet to visit Devonshire House or Chatsworth. ‘If you sacrifice so much for a person who was never on a footing of friendship,’ wrote Lady Spencer, ‘what are you to do if Lady J or Lady M should proceed (and they are already far on their way) to the same lengths?’²² Georgiana surrendered, a little relieved to be excused from the unpleasant bickering which surrounded the affair. Lady Carlisle had issued an invitation to a party which included Lady Derby as a test of her friends’ loyalty. For four months society thought about nothing else. Then, in April, Lord Derby announced that he would not be divorcing her. It was a terrible revenge; by his refusal – it was almost impossible for a wife to divorce her husband except on the grounds of non-consummation – he consigned his wife to social limbo, disgraced, separated and unprotected. Only marriage to the Duke of Dorset would have brought about her social rehabilitation. Their relationship did not survive the strain of her ostracism, confirming Lady Sarah Lennox’s prediction. Two years later Lady Mary Coke recorded a rumour that Lady Derby had left for Italy with a certain Lord Jocelyn which, she wrote spitefully, merely confirmed her opinion of her.²³

The reputation of the Duke of Dorset did not suffer. He had seduced another man’s wife, but while many people looked askance at his behaviour there was no question of excluding him from society. He even remained friends with Lord Derby and continued to be invited to his house. The Derby affair illustrates the point made by Georgiana in The Sylph: eighteenth-century society tolerated anything so long as there was no scandal. Publicly immoral behaviour earned public censure; private transgressions remained whispered gossip. In Lady Spencer’s words, Lady Derby ‘insulted the World with her Vice’.²⁴

In July 1779, when the season was over, Georgiana went with her parents to Spa. The Duke did not accompany them, pleading military duty, and spent the summer marching his soldiers at the camp. The English and French aristocrats on holiday at Spa behaved as if the two countries were not at war. Good breeding and fine manners counted for more than martial spirits. Madame de Polignac had been waiting for Georgiana to arrive and they passed the holiday together, walking arm in arm through the wooded fields surrounding the village. They were such conspicuous companions that their friendship reached the notice of the English press. The Morning Herald and Daily Advertiser reported: ‘The reigning female favourite of the Queen of France is Madame Polignac, a great encomiast of the English, and a particular admirer of her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire …’²⁵

On her return in September Georgiana experienced her first battle. They were travelling in a convoy of two packet boats, escorted by a naval sloop, The Fly, for protection. At dawn on 14 September French privateers attacked her boat. The Fly moved in to engage the French ships, enabling the packet boats to escape. Although he possessed only fourteen guns, Captain Garner fought for over two hours until both sides were too exhausted to continue. The half-sinking ship then managed to rejoin its frightened escorts and sail for England. Captain Garner immediately became a hero and the adventure was seized upon by the press as welcome propaganda.²⁶ Spain had also declared war against Britain. The country was now fighting against a triple alliance.

When Georgiana rejoined the Duke at the camp in October 1779 she was appalled by the soldiers’ low morale as well as the lethargy of their leaders. The combined French and Spanish fleets had been sighted in the Channel; the government expected an invasion force to arrive at any day.

Lord Cholmondeley and Cl Dalrymple arriv’d here from Plymouth at 7 – they give a terrible account of the defenceless state of the place and the danger of the troops encamp’d on the Mount Edgcumb side [she wrote]. In case of the enemy’s landing they must all either perish by the invaders or be drown’d in making their escape. They say the troops are all out of spirits and looking on themselves as a forlorn hope, and the Duke of Rutland says he should think himself lucky to escape with the loss of an arm or a leg.²⁷

She was determined to stay and watch the fight, telling her mother: ‘I rather think there will be an invasion and that I shall see something of it to complete the extraordinary sights I have been present at this year.’²⁸ But the camp waited in readiness for an invasion which never came. The strain of anticipation was reflected in the drinking and debauchery that went on after dark; during one all-night party the stables burned down and six horses were killed.

Georgiana was soon fed up with camp life. She was more sensitive now to the sycophancy she perceived in some of her friends. Mrs Crewe, she complained, was caressing her without ceasing. Lady Frances Masham, she noticed, ‘always talks to me as if she thought I had not my five senses like other people’.²⁹ She returned to Devonshire House without the Duke. Her departure annoyed the Cavendishes, who thought she had no right to go anywhere on her own when she had not yet given them an heir. ‘I found the Dss in town,’ wrote Lord Frederick Cavendish to Lady Spencer on 11 November 1779. ‘I never saw her Grace look better, [but] she laments that she has grown fat. To say the truth she does look bigger, I would fain have dropt the last syllable.’³⁰

Fearing that she would never have a child, Georgiana noted every variation in her menstrual cycle with obsessive diligence. ‘The Prince is not yet come,’ she wrote to her mother in October, ‘but my pains are frequent and I continue the Spa water.’³¹ After five and a half years of marriage she was so desperate to conceive that she went to the notorious quack Dr James Graham. Lady Spencer was dismayed. ‘Let me entreat you not to listen to Dr Graham with regard to internal medicines,’ she urged, ‘but consult Warren.’³² Graham’s use of electricity, milk baths and friction techniques to encourage fertility in women and cure impotency in men left her unimpressed. Society, however, had taken him up and Graham was earning sufficient money to practise out of the Adelphi, where his Temple of Health and Hymen attracted long queues of desperate women. ‘Lady Carlisle went to see Dr Graham’s Electrical Machinery in the Adelphi,’ wrote Miss Lloyd to Lady Stafford, ‘[it is] a most curious sight, and he is a most wonderful man. She and I agree that he might be of use to you.’^*33 Georgiana saw him for a couple of months, and then abruptly stopped. Her wish for a child had been answered, only the child was not hers: the Duke had asked her to accept his daughter Charlotte by his late mistress.³⁴

Charlotte Spencer had remained his mistress until at least 1778, but what had happened to her then remains a mystery; it is known only that she died shortly afterwards. Georgiana’s thoughts on the situation have not survived – she almost certainly knew of the relationship: articles about it had appeared in the Bon Ton Magazine and the Town and Country Magazine. The latter had declared, ‘it was the greatest paradox’ that the Duke must be the only man in England not in love with the Duchess of Devonshire. After Charlotte’s death the Duke sent for their daughter and her nurse, Mrs Gardner. It was not uncommon among aristocratic families for a husband’s illegitimate children to be brought up by his wife. Georgiana’s cousin Lady Pembroke was generous towards Lord Pembroke’s bastard children until he proposed giving them the Herbert name. Georgiana was in raptures at the prospect of adopting the girl. She met her for the first time on 8 May 1780 and told her mother:

she is a very healthy good humour’d looking child, I think, not very tall; she is amazingly like the Duke, I am sure you would have known her anywhere. She is the best humour’d little thing you ever saw, vastly active and vastly lively, she seems very affectionate and seems to like Mrs Gardner very much. She has not good teeth and has often the toothache, but I suppose that does not signify as she has not changed them yet, and she is the most nervous little thing in the world, the agitation of coming made her hands shake so, that they are scarcely recover’d today.³⁵

The Duke, Georgiana wrote, was also ‘vastly pleased’ with the little girl. Lady Spencer was baffled by her daughter’s excitement. ‘I hope you have not talk’d of her to people,’ she warned, ‘as that is taking it out of the Duke’s and your power to act as you shall hereafter choose about her.’ Georgiana was sending the wrong message to the Duke, she thought; she would do better to appear neutral about the child.³⁶ Georgiana ignored her advice; little Charlotte was all she had of her own to love, and she didn’t care where the girl came from. However, her gambling sharply increased just before Charlotte’s arrival and continued afterwards at the same level. ‘You say you play’d on Sunday night till two,’ wrote Lady Spencer in distress. ‘What did you do? I hope you are not meant by the beautiful Duchess who has taken to the gaming table and lost £2000. Pray, my dearest G. take care about play … and deserve to be what I doubt you are, whether you deserve it or not, the idol of my heart.’³⁷

Charlotte had no surname but Georgiana resisted any move which might alert the child to her irregular background. ‘We have not been able to fix on a name,’ she wrote to Lady Spencer, ‘but I think it will be William without the S if it will not look too peculiar.’³⁸ The usual practice was to use the father’s Christian name or, if he had several titles, one of his lesser ones, in the place of a surname. After much discussion they agreed on Williams instead and decided to present Charlotte as a distant, orphaned relation of the Spencers.

Meanwhile both George and Harriet became engaged. The twenty-two-year-old George confessed that he was ‘out of his senses’ over a certain Lady Lavinia Bingham.³⁹ Although Lavinia had no money of her own, and did not come from a particularly distinguished family – her father, Lord Lucan, was a mere Irish peer – the Spencers made no objection to the match. At first glance she seemed to be a good choice. She was pretty in a conventional way with blue eyes and fair hair, talkative, intelligent and possessed of a strong sense of propriety, which Lady Spencer applauded. Less obvious until later were her more unattractive traits: she was highly strung, vindictive, hypocritical and a calm liar who maintained a veneer of politeness to her in-laws while freely abusing them in conversation elsewhere. She was also neurotically jealous of anything which diverted George’s attention from herself and loathed Georgiana and Harriet. Georgiana tried not to show her misgivings even though she could sense Lavinia’s dislike. ‘My Dearest Dearest Dearest Brother,’ she wrote on 9 May 1780 after the announcement of their engagement. ‘Happiness, ’tho’ not to be had directly, is in store for you – That every hour, every minute of your life may be full of happiness is the sincere and fervent wish of my heart for it loves you dearly in the double character of friend and brother.’⁴⁰

Harriet’s engagement took place two months later, in July. She was now an attractive nineteen-year-old, tall like Georgiana, slim, and the image of Lord Spencer with his dark eyebrows and pale skin. She was quieter than her sister, more analytical and less prone to flights of fancy, and she still worshipped Georgiana with a devotion which bordered on fixation. Most people compared her unfavourably to Georgiana – a judgement Harriet had made little effort to correct since childhood. Yet on her own she revealed herself to be every bit as individual in her character: passionate, vulnerable, witty and intuitive. Georgiana had never shared her parents’ dismissal of her sister and now, ironically, it was Georgiana’s appreciation of her that was helping to show Harriet in a more glamorous light. The Morning Herald and Daily Advertiser put it neatly in saying that Harriet ‘never appeared to greater advantage than on Thursday at the Opera; without detracting from her ladyship’s good graces, part of this effect may be imputed to comparison – her sister, the Duchess not “being by”.’⁴¹

Her choice was the Duke of Devonshire’s cousin Frederick, Lord Duncannon, the eldest son of the Earl of Bessborough. She explained to her friends that ‘he was very sensible and good tempered and by marrying him she made no new connections, for now her sister’s and hers would be the same.’⁴² Georgiana was slightly surprised by her sister’s choice. Even though the Cavendishes had been pushing for the match she had not thought him the type of man to attract Harriet. He was quiet, not particularly good looking, and not even financially secure – his father was known to have mortgaged all his estates. Harriet admitted to her cousin that his proposal had come as a surprise; she had ‘not the least guess of [his regard] till the day papa told me, for from your letters I thought his coming to St James’s Place was merely on Miss Thynn’s account.’⁴³ She added sadly:

I wish I could have known him a little better first, but my dear Papa and Mama say that it will make them the happiest of creatures, and what would I not do to see them happy, to be sure the connections are the pleasantest that can be … when one is to choose a companion for life (what a dreadful sound that has) the inside and not the out is what one ought to look at, and I think from what I have heard of him, and the great attachment he professes to have for me, I have a better chance of being reasonably happy with him than with most people I know. But there are some things which frighten me sadly, he is so grave and I am so very giddy … I will not plague you any more with my jeremiads for I am very low, pray write to me.⁴⁴

Lord and Lady Spencer approved of the marriage because of the Cavendish connection, and probably influenced Harriet more than they realized, but they were also concerned about the couple’s financial situation. Harriet’s marriage portion of £20,000 went to pay off part of Lord Bessborough’s £30,000 debt. She would be left with a mere £400 a year pin money and £2,000 a year joint income with her husband.⁴⁵ Lady Spencer begged Georgiana not to lead her impressionable sister into bad habits, and above all, to keep her away from the Devonshire set. ‘I am sure I need not assure you of my doing everything in the world (should this take place) to prevent her falling into either extravagance or dissipation,’ she promised.⁴⁶

Georgiana was confident that if she could reform her own life, protecting Harriet would be simple. Since her return from Coxheath she had sought to impress Fox and the other Whig leaders with her political understanding. She followed the debates in parliament, never missing an opportunity to discuss their implications at party dinners. Only a short time before people had described her as a novice: ‘I have also some hopes that she will turn Politician too,’ remarked a family friend in 1775, ‘for she gave me an account of some of the speeches in the House of Lords, Ld Grove made an odd one, and the Bishop of Peterborough a prodigious good one, only she said it was rather too much like Preaching.’ As an afterthought the friend added, ‘She must have heard all this from the Duke.’⁴⁷ No doubt it was true then, but Georgiana soon became sufficiently well informed to have her own opinions about political debates. She had also perfected the skills required of a political hostess: her dinners at Devonshire House served a useful purpose: waverers could be kept in line and supporters rewarded. She had also learned how to extract information without betraying any secrets in return. She knew when to appear knowledgeable and when to appear ignorant.

Georgiana absorbed the minutiae of party politics. To an outsider the House of Commons was an inchoate system of temporary factions and alliances. In reality, the 558 MPs could be divided into three broad categories. The largest, with 185 or so members, was the ‘King’s Men’ or the court interest. These were MPs who received patronage from the crown and could therefore be relied upon to support any Prime Minister who had the confidence of the King.⁴⁸ The second group was made up of career politicians – some of whom, like Edmund Burke and James Hare, depended upon patrons – who regarded politics as an end in itself. The third and smallest category was the ‘Independents’, men who owed allegiance to no one and regarded themselves as above party politics. In fact they generally supported the government and only on very rare occasions voted with the opposition. In the House of Lords the court interest, known in the upper house as the ‘King’s Friends’, accounted for more than half the 150 peers, which made it impossible for the opposition Whigs to win any debate on numbers alone.

Among the career politicians there were, indeed, factions and alliances, named after the men who lead them – Shelburnite, Northite and Rockinghamite. The labels Whig and Tory, as applied to two distinct parties, only came into official use in the early nineteenth century. The idea of an organized opposition was not acceptable in the eighteenth century – any party which opposed the King was, in theory, committing treason. On the other hand, although opposition was regarded as the exception to good government rather than the rule, since 1688 the Commons had prided itself on its independence from the crown. Peers and MPs regarded it as their duty to be both servants to the crown and defenders of the constitution. In his Commentaries on the Laws of England Mr Justice Blackstone described the constitution as a framework of checks and balances: ‘In the legislature, the people are a check upon the nobility and the nobility a check upon the people; by the mutual privilege of rejecting what the other has resolved: while the King is a check upon both, which preserves the executive power from encroachment. And this very executive power is again checked, and kept within bounds by the two houses …’⁴⁹

The Whigs had to be careful not to appear dangerous or disloyal. Edmund Burke spent much of his time defending the party against such charges by arguing that they were challenging the King in order to safeguard the victories of the Glorious Revolution. Even though the old Tory party was defunct, the Whigs used the name as a term of abuse against North’s ministry because of its reputation as the party of the King. Since the Whigs accused George III of increasing the influence of the crown at the expense of civil liberty, it suited them to call their opponents ‘Tories’. In fact the King was doing no such thing, and Lord North and the other men in government did not have the least shred of Tory sympathies, but the opposition Whigs liked to portray themselves as the true Whigs, martyred for their beliefs by the forces of tyranny.

Georgiana fervently believed this to be the case even if some members of the opposition were rather more cynical. When she wore the adopted Whig colours of blue and buff (taken from the colours of the American army) she did so out of conviction and expected her friends to do the same. It was precisely because she was a fervent believer that she was able to carry off her military uniforms and women’s auxiliary corps at Coxheath without being ridiculed. She had become one of the party’s best-known representatives. Fox was the first to recognize her talent for propaganda – they shared a flair for the public aspect of politics. They understood, for example, the potency of symbols in raising or lowering morale, in attracting or repelling support.

Fox encouraged Georgiana to play a greater role in increasing the party’s public presence. As a result, in January 1780 she failed to appear at court for the annual celebration of the Queen’s birthday. Society and the press remarked upon her absence. It was the first time she had shunned the court and people read it as a sign of the Whigs’ confidence that they would soon drive Lord North from office. When parliament reconvened on 8 February the government was beset by a number of crises. Not only was the war going badly; there was unrest in Ireland and a widespread fear that it might follow the example of America and declare independence. There was also popular discontent at home, fuelled by the Whigs, and hundreds of petitions poured in from around the country demanding democratic reform of the parliamentary system.

The session began promisingly enough. Prodded by the Whigs, the Duke of Devonshire at last gave his maiden speech in the Lords on 17 March. Edmund Burke congratulated Georgiana, saying with more hope than conviction, ‘it will become, by habit, more disagreeable to him to continue silent on an interesting occasion than hitherto it has been to him, to speak upon it.’⁵⁰ Burke was leading the assault on North and the big push came in the shape of his Economical Reform Bill, which aimed to limit the crown’s powers by reducing the number of pensions and sincecures on the Civil List. The government defeated all but one of his proposals but at the expense of alienating backbenchers and independents by its heavy-handed methods of ensuring compliance.

On 6 April 1780 the Whigs ambushed North with a surprise resolution. John Dunning, a lawyer MP who had honed his rhetorical technique at the Inns of Court, rose to give a speech. His allegiance was well known and he began, as expected, by condemning the government’s quashing of the Economical Reform Bill. But then, with clear and precise logic he pointed out that over 100,000 people had petitioned parliament for change, and that the government’s response was merely to crush it. He paused theatrically, holding the House in rapt attention, before, his voice rising to a crescendo, he urged the following resolution: ‘The influence of the Crown has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished.’ The House was electrified; MPs jumped from their seats and waved their order papers at him. The vote was 233 to 215 in favour. Westminster was in pandemonium and the government thrown into confusion.

North’s immediate response was to tender his resignation, but George III insisted that he remain in office. The Speaker fell ill, preventing the Commons from meeting for a week, and Georgiana feared that the delay would cost them votes. ‘Lord Westmoreland [sic] as much as told me he should vote with North on Tuesday,’ she recorded.⁵¹ When the Commons met again her presentiment proved correct. Dunning was overconfident and called for parliament to remain sitting until the changes demanded in the petitions had been implemented. This was too radical for the independent MPs, who voted against the resolution. The Whigs reacted bitterly: Dunning had thrown away their advantage. Fox approached him after the debate and advised him ‘to make no more motions’.⁵² ‘We were sadly beat last night in the House of Commons,’ Georgiana informed Lady Spencer; ‘the ministry people are all in great spirits.’⁵³

A few weeks later she reported, ‘We go on vilely indeed in the House of Commons.’⁵⁴ Her friend Lord Camden concurred: ‘Our popular exertions are dying away, and the country returning to its old state of lukewarm indifference, the Minority in the House of Commons dwindle every day, and the Opposition is at variance with itself.’⁵⁵ But there was one piece of good news. The eighteen-year-old Prince of Wales, the future George IV, had allied himself with the Whigs. His support, as the heir apparent to the throne, absolved them of the charge of disloyalty to the crown, which made it easier for them to attack the King.

In supporting the Whigs against his father the Prince was following an established tradition among the Hanoverians. From George I onwards, father and son had hated each other. Each successive Prince of Wales had thrown in his lot with the opposition, and the future George IV was no different from his predecessors. He feared and resented his parents while they despised him as weak, duplicitous and lazy. Georgiana recorded her first impressions of him in a scrapbook, which she entitled ‘Annecdotes Concerning HRH the Prince of Wales’. Knowing that the memoir would only be seen by future generations she was absolutely candid in her opinion of him:

The Prince of Wales is rather tall, and has a figure which, though striking is not perfect. He is inclined to be too fat and looks too much like a woman in men’s cloaths, but the gracefulness of his manner and his height certainly make him a pleasing figure. His face is very handsome, and he is fond of dress even to a tawdry degree, which young as he is will soon wear off. His person, his dress and the admiration he has met with … take up his thoughts chiefly. He is good-natured and rather extravagant … but he certainly does not want for understanding, and his jokes sometimes have the appearance of wit. He appears to have an inclination to meddle with politics – he loves being of consequence, and whether it is in intrigues of state or of gallantry he often thinks more is intended than really is.⁵⁶

He was clever, well read, and possessed of exquisite taste in art and decoration, but he was wholly deficient in self-knowledge. Following the King’s orders the Prince had been isolated from companions of his own age and tutored by dry old men who saw to it that his life was one long regime of worthy activities. But instead of creating a paragon of virtue, the Prince’s strict and joyless upbringing had made him vain, petulant and attention-seeking. As soon as he could he rebelled against everything he had been taught. The King relaxed the cordon sanitaire around the Prince when he turned eighteen only to the extent of holding a few private balls for him, ‘from which I and many others were banished,’ wrote Georgiana, ‘as no opposition person was asked’ – which only increased his desire to mix with people who did not meet with his parents’ approval.

‘As he only went out in secret, or with the King and Queen,’ she also recorded, ‘he formed very few connections with any other woman other than women of the town.’ On his first trip to Drury Lane in 1779 he saw The Winter’s Tale, and immediately fell in love with the twenty-one-year-old actress Mary Robinson, a protégé of Georgiana’s. She was delighted to conduct a very public affair with him, and even went so far as to emblazon a simulacrum of his crest – three feathers – on her carriage. The Prince foolishly wrote her explicit letters, in which he called her ‘Perdita’ – her role in the play – and signed himself ‘Florize’. Like any astute woman on the make, she kept his adolescent declarations – he promised her a fortune as soon as he came of age – and blackmailed him when he grew tired of her.

It was during the Prince’s visits to Drury Lane that he first came into contact with the Devonshire House Circle, and in particular with Georgiana and Fox. George III blamed Fox for deliberately and calculatingly debauching his son, but he had no malicious intent. The Prince had already started to drink and gamble before he met Fox, who simply showed him how to do it in a more refined way. The Prince worshipped Fox who, for his part, genuinely liked the boy, despite the thirteen-year age gap, seeing in him, perhaps, something of his younger, reckless self. The two made an unlikely pair, one of them dressed in exquisite finery, the other unwashed, unshaven, his clothes askew and his linen soiled. On most nights they could be found either at Brooks’s or Devonshire House, playing faro until they fell asleep at the table.

The Prince’s marked attentions to Georgiana, the fact that he constantly sought her advice on every matter – from his clothes to his relations with his father – fanned rumours that they were having an affair. Nathaniel Wraxall was loath to characterize it definitely, and ventured no further than saying, ‘of what nature was that attachment, and what limits were affixed to it by the Duchess, must remain a matter of conjecture’.⁵⁷ The Prince was almost certainly in love with Georgiana, but she never reciprocated his feelings. Throughout their lives they always addressed each other as ‘my dearest brother’ and ‘sister’, although the Prince was often madly jealous of rivals.⁵⁸ It was his lack of success with Georgiana, when every other woman in Whig society (including, it was rumoured, Harriet) was his for the asking, that made her so irresistible to him.

The Prince shared with Fox, Lord Cholmondeley and Lord George Cavendish a round robin of the three most famous courtesans of the era: Perdita, Grace Dalrymple and Mrs Armistead. Georgiana heard that Lord George had paid a drunken visit to Mrs Armistead one night only to find the Prince hiding behind a door. Luckily, rather than take offence he burst out laughing, made him a low bow and left. The Prince also pursued Lady Melbourne and Lady Jersey, or perhaps it was the other way round. Less well-informed people speculated that Georgiana was in competition with her friends for the Prince’s affection, but a letter from Lady Melbourne suggests collusion rather than rivalry:

The Duke of Richmond has been here, and told me you and I were two rival queens, and I believe, if there had not been some people in the room, who might have thought it odd, that I should have slapped his face for having such an idea; and he wished me joy of having the Prince to myself. How odious people are, upon my life, I have no patience with them. I believe you and I are very different from all the rest of the world – as from their ideas they do such strange things in certain situations or they never could suspect us in the way they do.⁵⁹

The Whigs continued their onslaught against the government. On 3 June 1780 the Duke of Richmond, then a radical on the extreme left of the party, moved a resolution that the constitution should be rewritten to allow annual parliaments and universal suffrage. His plan was based on the proposals drawn up by the Westminster Association, an offshoot of Christopher Wyvil’s Association Movement which had led the petitions for parliamentary reform. By an unlucky chance, while the Lords were debating the Duke of Richmond’s proposals, Lord George Gordon, a mentally unbalanced Protestant fanatic, chose to march on parliament at the head of a large mob. He carried with him a petition from the Protestant Association, a sectarian body which opposed giving legal rights to Catholics.

Eighteenth-century society was rarely bothered by the occasional eruptions of the lower orders; the establishment ignored them and the fracas would die down of its own accord. But this mob, intoxicated by drink and whipped up by a crazed demagogue, was more dangerous than the usual over-excited rabble. The crowd blocked all the entrances to parliament while Lord George Gordon stormed into the Commons. The MPs fell silent at his entrance and sat spellbound as he harangued them on the evils of popery. He then rushed out to do the same in the Lords. In between speeches he ran to a window to shout at the crowd outside. Fearing for their lives, MPs made a dash for the stairs and as they tried to leave the House they were punched and kicked by the marchers. The Lords followed suit, ignominiously leaving older peers such as the eighty-year-old Lord Mansfield to fend for themselves. The Duke of Devonshire’s carriage was stopped by the mob until he agreed to shout ‘No Popery’. By nightfall the protest had turned into a riot. Thieves and looters joined in as bands of club-wielding rioters burned down foreign chapels and attacked the shops and houses of known Catholics.

At first Georgiana did not realize the danger facing the capital. Her friend Miss Lloyd, she joked, was dreaming about enraged Protestants hammering on her door.

Lord George Gordon’s people continued to make a great fracas, there is a violent mob in Moorfields, and I have learnt that five hundred guards are gone down there. I could not go to the Birthday – my gown was beautiful, a pale blue, with the drapery etc., of an embroider’d gauze in paillons. I am a little comforted for not going by the two messages I have received from Lady Melbourne and the Duke from the Prince of Wales to express his disappointment at having missed dancing with me for the 3rd time.⁶⁰

But by the next day, 6 June, the mob was on the point of taking over the city. Ministers and opposition alike hurriedly sent their wives and children out of town and prepared to mount a defence of the streets. But the magistrates were nowhere to be seen and, following a misunderstanding over which authority had the power to mandate the use of firearms against civilians, there were no troops in place. The rioting continued unchecked. The mob sacked Newgate Prison and burned down the King’s Bench. They exploded the distilleries at Holborn so that the streets were flooded with spirits and the water supply to Lincoln’s Inn Fields became alcoholic. Lord John Cavendish condemned the Lord Mayor’s cowardice in standing by while London burned to the ground. He had good reason; the mob targeted the houses of prominent Whigs because of the party’s support for religious toleration. Edmund Burke’s house was surrounded but he managed to fend them off. Sir George Savile was less fortunate and narrowly escaped being burnt to death. Poor Lord Mansfield watched as rioters looted his house and destroyed his celebrated library. The Whig grandees mounted a round-the-clock defence of their houses. Georgiana wrote on 7 June, forgetting her birthday in the midst of the chaos:

I shall go to Chiswick tomorrow, for tho’ there could be no kind of danger for me, yet a woman is only troublesome. I hope and think that it will be over tonight as the Council has issued orders that the soldiers may fire … the mob is a strange set, and some of it composed of mere boys. I was very much frightened yesterday, but I keep quiet and preach quiet to everybody. The night before last the Duke was in garrison at Ld Rockingham’s till five, which alarmed me not a little, but now Ld R’s is the safest place, as he has plenty of guards, a justice of peace, a hundred tradesmen arm’d, besides servants and friends.⁶¹

Burke persuaded those MPs who had braved the streets to reach parliament not to revoke religious tolerance legislation, even though some sought only to placate the mob. At last, on 8 June, the army arrived and, aided by volunteers that included MPs, barristers, coalheavers and Irish chairmen, organized a well-armed defence. The mob attempted to seize the Bank of England but its defenders, ably led by Captain Holroyd, beat them off. Devonshire House was well guarded and the expected attack never came. By the ninth only pockets of resistance remained. Lord George Gordon gave himself up and was imprisoned in the Tower. Georgiana was badly shaken. ‘I feel mad with spirits at [it] all being over,’ she wrote; ‘it seems now like a dream.’⁶² She had stayed on the balcony for four nights, staring at the orange sky as Piccadilly reverberated to the sound of gunfire and explosions. The number of people killed or seriously wounded stood at 458; whole blocks of the city lay in ruins.

The immediate aftermath saw the total discrediting of the reformers and all the Association movements. The Whigs were blamed for irresponsibly fomenting discontent ‘Without Doors’ – the term for the world outside parliament. Lord North seized the political advantage and called a snap general election on 1 September. Georgiana’s assistance was demanded from many quarters: in addition to the canvassing she had to do for the Cavendishes in Derby, the Duke’s family pressured her to persuade Lord Spencer to align his interests with theirs. ‘Lord Richard is very anxious for my father to give his interest in Cambridgeshire to Lord Robert Manners, the Duke of Rutland’s brother,’ she told Lady Spencer. ‘I told him I dare say my father would, and they are very anxious as it is of great consequence to have Mr Parker wrote to directly, that he may speak to the tenants as otherwise they might be got by other people.’⁶³ Her brother’s former tutor Sir William Jones, who was contesting the seat for Oxford University, also asked her to write letters on his behalf.

Sheridan wanted to become a politician, but his lack of wealth and family connections made it impossible for him to contest a seat on his own cognizance. His vanity prevented him from making a direct application to the grandees. It suited him far better to approach his target by a more circuitous route, and for this reason he pressed Georgiana to help him. Although she thought it was a shame for him to throw away his literary career, she arranged for him to stand in the Spencer-dominated borough of Stafford. He was duly elected and wrote her a grovelling letter of thanks: ‘I profited by the Permission allow’d to me to make use of your Grace’s letter as my first and best introduction to Lord Spencer’s Interest in the Town … It is no flattery to say that the Duchess of Devonshire’s name commands an implicit admiration wherever it is mentioned.’⁶⁴ A week later, on 25 September, Charles Fox invited Georgiana to accompany him on the hustings when he contested the borough of Westminster. The press was shocked by her boldness, even though she stood on the platform for only a few minutes. The Morning Herald and Daily Advertiser made fun of her: she ‘immediately saluted her favourite candidate, the Hon. Charles James Fox. Unfortunately it happened not to be his shaving day; and when the candidate saluted her Grace, it put one in mind of Sheridan’s cunning Isaac, shaking hands with the Graces.’⁶⁵ Fox was magnificent on the hustings, whipping up his supporters with speeches about parliamentary reform, the rights of the British people and the consequences of royal tyranny. It was on this campaign that he earned his title ‘Man of the People’.

Fox won with a comfortable majority, and his success was unexpectedly duplicated around the country. Despite its recent setbacks, the party had managed to run a well-organized election, clawing back the ground it had lost following the Gordon Riots. North’s majority was much reduced; on paper it was only 28, and he would have to rely on the independent MPs to give their support. The Whigs’ success was all the more remarkable because they had funded their campaign out of their own pockets while North had almost unlimited funds from the treasury. The nearparity of numbers convinced them that it would be only a matter of time before the government collapsed.

* Georgiana had learned the importance of ‘mixing’ from her first days of married life when the Duke had sent her off to Derby to foster good relations with the local voters. She also knew, without the Cavendishes having to tell her, that her behaviour had political implications. The year before at Brighton she wrote, ‘we are very popular here from mixing so much with the people, for Lady Sefton and Mrs Meynel never mixed with the people till we came.’

* I cannot feel at ease.

*Educated opinion excoriated the doctor as a charlatan and his patients as pathetic gullibles, but this did not prevent the credulous from seeking his help. Infertile couples paid an exorbitant £50 a night to make love on the ‘electro-magnetic bed’ in his ‘celestial chamber’ to the strains of an orchestra playing outside, while a pressure-cylinder pumped ‘magnetic fire’ into the room. It was also recommended that they drink from Graham’s patented elixir, costing a guinea a bottle. The Morning Herald and Daily Advertiser ran a successful campaign against Graham, pillorying both him and his clients and eventually he went bankrupt in 1782.