The Duchess

by Amanda Foreman

  Only one person felt unease over the event, and that was Bess, several hundred miles away and thinking constantly of home. Her letters had hitherto been eloquently pathetic: she was broken by her misfortunes, her health was ruined and her heart crushed like a “bruised plant [which] cannot regain its vigour, but droops even in the blest sunshine of your affection.” Now, however, she tried to convince Georgiana that her poor Bess was in perfect health and spirits and should be allowed to come home. She repeatedly begged to be allowed to look after Georgiana and her baby. “I shall wait your directions, my angel,” she wrote earnestly.10 “You will know how anxiously my heart watched over you in the first moments of your being with child,” she reminded her friend; since then, she insisted, she had spent every waking minute thinking about her.11 “Kiss our child for me,” she wrote enviously. “How happy are those who have a right to be its godmother, but I am to be its little Mama—Canis said so.”12 She repeated the claim in her next letter.

  One of the few surviving letters from the Duke to Bess, written on July 29, shows that even he was aware of her jealousy:

  I have not had a letter from you this great while, which makes me afraid you are in a dudgeon with me, but I hope you will make it up with me now, as I have written to you often lately. My letters would have been more frequent and longer, but for two reasons, the one is that I am (as you must have long perceived) the worst letter writer in the world and the other that I have no news to write about that could be entertaining to you. I shall write to you again to let you know how the Duchess does, and I dare say she will be able to write to you herself in two or three days. I forgot to tell you that the Duchess thinks the child is much such a little thing as you, and I think so too, only she is not so naughty and so apt to be vexed.13

  The Duke’s clumsy attempt at gentle raillery did not reassure her. convinced that they would soon forget her in their joy over Little G, Bess began saving the money she received from the Devonshires’ bankers. She had previously accepted Georgiana’s gifts with a great show of reluctance—“let it my love, be a debt,” she would insist; now she constantly found excuses to ask for more.14 It was easy to extract money from the credulous Georgiana.

  I find you are kept in Turin for want of money [she wrote in alarm after receiving an urgent message]. Good God—Good God—and all my fault . . . Oh God, what will you do? . . .I send £50 tonight, that’s a hundred. Canis will give me the day after tomorrow 200 which I shall send, and then I will send 200 or 300 more in three weeks where you will direct me. . . . I am so miserable at the idea of your wanting money that, if I can find him, I shall send the messenger to Turin. . . . Do not talk of expense, you would break my heart and neither use Canis nor I like Brother and Sister, if you did not spend. You owe, Dumouriez says, 170. You will receive 300, and I will desire Sir Robert’s people to send an order for you for 100 more. . . . God bless you my angel love, I adore and love you beyond description, but I am miserable till I know you have received this. Canis sends a thousand loves.15

  The temptation of being on her own, and in receipt of large funds, was too much for Bess. “I do think it necessary that you should have a person of character and conduct about you,” Lady Bristol had written in February, “and not a pert, gallant, corrupt femme de chambre who may overturn your best plans of prudence.”16 “Do not play the coquette,” she begged a month or so later. Bess paid no heed. She went about as she pleased, dragging the uncommunicative Charlotte with her. In August reports reached Devonshire House that she had taken Charlotte to Naples and was sharing a house with two lovers. Georgiana could not bring herself to believe it:

  Pray, pray, my dearest love, forgive what I am going to say [she wrote in a state of bewilderment]. I think that the innocence of your conduct and intentions does not make you aware enough of the danger of your situation. You see after all the resolutions you made about not receiving men, you have been living alone with 2. . . . This is in itself nothing, but suppose you had, at any place, seen a beautiful young woman arrive, travelling by herself, who, tho’ there was nothing against her, had had imprudences laid to her charge, and that you saw this young woman giving parties and living with two men, both supposed to be in love with her—with all your candour you would think her imprudent . . . and so many of our women lately have gone into Switzerland and Italy when in scrapes, that you should be doubly cautious to shew that you are not that kind of person.17

  They had also heard that Bess had fallen in love with a certain chevalier and was planning to meet him in Turin. “I must entreat you not to go so soon to Turin,” Georgiana pleaded, “at least let the Chevalier be there some days, for tho’ I fear him not, do not go there purposely to meet him.” Why, she asked despairingly, could not Bess behave herself and live with a female companion like any other respectable woman? “Live with women as much as you can,” she implored, “let them be ever so disagreeable; the amusements of the country will occupy you, and if you met with any bearable woman who would stay some time . . . do try. My angel love, the world is so alive [with stories] about you. . . .”18

  Bess was horrified when she read Georgiana’s letter. It had never occurred to her that she might figure in people’s letters to their friends and relatives in England. She wrote a long, pleading letter to her dearest beloved Georgiana. In nine cramped pages she attempted to justify herself from every angle—knowing that her future hung in the balance. It was a masterpiece of flattery and denial. “The idea of having made you uneasy counterbalances all. I am wretched till I know you are again tranquil on my account, and assured that I cannot err against your will again,” she wrote humbly, “let my ruling sentiment be to please you.” She blamed her “imprudences” on her broken heart; the loss of her dear children may have possibly overturned her judgement. In a startling revelation—which discredited the self-pitying lamentations of her previous letters—she claimed she was one of the favourites at the Neapolitan court. The British ambassador Sir William Hamilton, a family friend of the Herveys, had introduced her to the King and Queen. No one in Naples objected to her living arrangements; indeed, the royal family made a point of including her in all their intimate social engagements.19 However, she accepted Georgiana’s suggestion and regretfully moved away from Naples.

  Bess was prepared to embark on a lengthy correspondence to regain her friends’ confidence, but the need never arose. To her surprise, one letter was enough to reassure them and the subject was never referred to again. She had imagined them reading her letter and discussing it for days. Fortunately for her, far more pressing matters claimed Georgiana’s attention.

  Georgiana was in serious trouble over her gambling debts. She had frittered away thousands during the past few years, and secretly borrowed more to hide her losses.*20 Nor could she stop herself playing when she had no money to spare. Lady Mary Coke recorded in her diary an embarrassing incident at a party given by Lady Ailesbury. The guests were playing faro according to strict rules—no borrowing from the bank. Georgiana arrived, flushed with excitement from a previous engagement, and insisted on joining the players. But her purse was empty. She cried and made a fuss until Mr. Conway lent her ten guineas, which made her all smiles until she had lost the lot. By now nothing would stop her and she insisted on borrowing sixty guineas from the bank. This time luck was with her and she won. She scooped up her winnings amidst general acclaim and prepared to leave. As she headed towards the door there was a cough and someone gently mentioned Mr. Conway’s name to her. Georgiana was aghast, and with many apologies and exclamations repaid the loan. Her departure restored the party’s equilibrium, and it was half an hour before the players realized that she had left without repaying the bank.21

  On September 30, 1783, three weeks after Bess’s long letter of self-exculpation, the Morning Herald announced: “The town will be deprived of the amiable Duchess of Devonshire for two months longer, her Grace having determined to remain at her country seat in Derbyshire till the first week in December. . . . The amiable D
uchess happily has softer and far sweeter cares.”22 However, it was not “sweeter cares” which kept Georgiana away from London. “At times,” she wrote to her mother, “except when my Dear little girl calls on me, I have neither the will nor the courage to do anything.”23 She swore she would go mad or die if anything happened to Little G. (One person who remained sceptical about this was Horace Walpole, who wrote dismissively: “[she] will probably stuff her poor babe into her knotting bag, when she wants to play Macao, and forget it.”)24

  The Duke’s agent John Heaton had accused Georgiana of swindling tradesmen, and worse. Since the beginning of the year Chatsworth had been undergoing a programme of improvements. Georgiana was refurbishing her private apartments and persuaded the Duke to employ the French craftsman François Hervé to design a complete set of furniture. She had also instructed builders to give Devonshire House a much needed face-lift. But on Heaton’s command the work came to a halt. He had heard a rumour that Georgiana was using the services of some craftsmen free of charge in return for passing on a recommendation to the Prince of Wales. Whether or not this was true, Heaton believed the claim and advised the Duke not to pay any of Georgiana’s bills until he had investigated the matter. He also informed the Duke, without any proof, that Georgiana was having an affair with the Prince. The world, he said, knew that the Devonshires “liv’d ill together.”25

  The Duke politely listened to Heaton’s accusation, and told him to keep his suspicions to himself. Unfortunately, the following week a caricature appeared in the print shops entitled “The Ladies Church Yard,” which linked Georgiana with the Prince.*26 “I set these kind of reports at defiance,” Georgiana wrote to her mother, “whilst I know that the Duke’s confidence in me is such that nobody but myself could hurt me with him. This he gave me every assurance of. . . .” But other parts of her conversation with the Duke were less reassuring. Why did he not sack his agent, she asked, since he was so angry at his presumption? His reply chilled her, and was to affect her actions for the rest of her life, making her fearful of being honest about her financial affairs:

  he said, “not so easily, for I do not look enough into my own affairs.” I said I thought it was a pity he did not, and he answered me in the following remarkable words, which I shall never forget—“If I found out that Heaton was ever so great a rascal [to be embezzling our estate] I should be mad to quarrel with him for it would quite ruin us.” In short, whatever he is, Mr Heaton has so puzzled our affairs that I expect he alone can have the clue. This, however, has determined me to be silent whatever I think. . . .27

  Shocked to learn that Heaton had so much control over their affairs, Georgiana wondered what would happen if he ever learnt the true nature of her debts. In fact, the Duke was exaggerating Heaton’s power because he himself knew so little about the running of his estate, but Georgiana was not to know that. On receiving her daughter’s worried letters, Lady Spencer advised: “Try to show your extravagance was due to ignorance.”28 She was appalled, like the Duke, that a servant should pass comment on his employer’s wife. Taking Georgiana’s side against Heaton, she called him the “Corkscrew,” and suggested that in the future they should all be on their guard against him. Georgiana was grateful for her understanding. However, the Duke’s brother and uncles did not share Lady Spencer’s sense of outrage; they accused Georgiana of deliberately wasting his money. Lord and Lady George Cavendish, who remained hopeful that Georgiana would never produce an heir, resented her depletion of what they regarded as their future estate.29

  Georgiana was saved from further unpleasant conversations by the arrival of many stalwarts of the Devonshire House Circle, including James Hare and Thomas Grenville. The gaiety at Chatsworth temporarily lifted her spirits. On October 21 she wrote in a happier mood: “we had a bouncing public day yesterday, and many staid. We have a grand coursing this morning. . . . We never had such public days, and we have had 4 sets of people this summer who were staunch enemies before. Indeed, our being in may be something. Georgiana is very very fretful, and has for a fortnight past slobbered amazingly.”30 But more rumours about her reached Chatsworth and infected the atmosphere. Lady George Cavendish told Harriet that everyone knew about her sister and Charles Fox. “Lady George teazed her cruelly,” Georgiana complained to Bess, “about the Eyebrow [Fox] and me, and Canis and the Infernal [Lady Jersey], and so blended with some truth that my sister was quite hurt. The odd thing is that she said many true things about my mother having found letters of the Eyebrow, but what Canis thinks most ill-natured is that she said his intrigue with the Infernal was upon his being angry with me about the Eyebrow.”31 The letter reveals the extraordinary, albeit one-sided, openness between Georgiana and the Duke. Though he obviously accepted that there was no “intrigue” between her and Fox, Lady George’s comments suggest otherwise.

  When Georgiana had a secret she would often “confess” it by issuing a denial to a question no one had asked. Four months earlier, in June, she had written to Bess:

  But, Dear Bess, what I wanted to tell you is that the Eyebrow was to go out of town yesterday, and as I had not seen him for a long time, for am very lazy now I grow so big, and he had called several mornings, I let him call Wednesday after court. After talking of many things and expressing very affectionate tho’ not improper anxiety for the situation he left me in—in the midst of all this the P. of W. arrived in the court, and as I was standing up and the other taking leave of me, without my scarcely knowing it he kissed my cheek, and went away. Je vous assure, mon adorable petite, sans la moindre emotion de ma part, but you cannot think how uneasy it made me. And what do you think I did—I told Canis, who Dear Dog, instead of being angry said it was not my fault and there was nothing in it as he was taking leave of me in such a situation. You cannot think what a load this took off my mind and heart.32

  There is little evidence to prove or disprove the notion that Georgiana and Fox had become lovers. Their correspondence for these years does not survive. Georgiana’s demeanour had certainly altered since 1779, when Lady Pembroke assured her son that Georgiana never flirted. According to Nathaniel Wraxall, she was at the time “not exempt perhaps, from vanity and coquetry,” and quite obviously aware of her effect on men.33 Perhaps Bess’s skill at playing the flirt had stirred something within her, or perhaps she no longer saw any reason to remain faithful to her adulterous husband. Nothing is certain except that Georgiana shared her contemporaries’ horror of breaking the patriarchal bloodline. It was an unwritten rule in eighteenth-century society that a wife should present her husband with a legitimate first son, whatever she chose to do afterwards.

  If Georgiana was having an affair with Fox, it was brief and insignificant compared to their profound friendship. Towards the end of her life she claimed that he had never been her lover, only her friend. She may have been lying, of course, which would mean that she had shared him with the courtesan Mrs. Armistead, who became his mistress in 1783. Elizabeth Armistead was a handsome, good-natured cockney with no interest in politics or literature. It was not an obvious match. Nevertheless, they were happy together and Mrs. Armistead retired from her profession.

  In the midst of Georgiana’s troubles over rumours and debts, news came from Bath that Lord Spencer was dead. He was only forty-nine, although his continual ill health had made him prematurely old. Lady Spencer had tried to prepare herself for his death, but when it came she was devastated. The following day, November 1, she wrote in her diary, “I have passed another day half-stunned with affliction and stupefied with laudanum.” The next day Lord Spencer’s body was carried out to the hearse to be transported to Althorp. “I felt as if every nerve about my head and heart would break,” she wrote in her next entry. “I never can describe or forget what I felt when they came to fetch me—my reason almost forsook me, I was half frantick and wanted to go into his room—I had not power to pass by his door, & my Brother and George were forced to drag me down the stairs & lift me into the coach.”34

  She had de
liberately concealed Lord Spencer’s final illness from Georgiana, fearing to add to her worries. The sudden news of his death made Georgiana ill. “The Duke is so good to me that it is a great comfort,” she told her brother, but “I am very quiet as I stay in my room and see nobody, for seeing people is what I dread most.”35 She developed a fever and lay sick for almost two weeks. Little Georgiana and the Duke caught her fever, and a month passed before they were able to visit Lady Spencer. When the news reached Italy the English community in Rome was surprised to see Lady Elizabeth Foster go into deep mourning.

  “I really feel more capable of talking to you about my sorrow, and receiving consolation from such discourse than from anything else,” Georgiana wrote to Bess on January 3, 1784; “pray heaven I do not infect you with my grief.”36 She wanted her friend to return now, but she also took care to remind her that there had to be an equal partnership between the three of them. “What could be more interesting than our journey last year,” she wrote, “a man and a woman endowed with every amiable quality and loving one another as Brother and Sister, nursing and taking care of a woman, who was doatingly fond of them, and who bore within her the child that was to fulfil the vows and wishes of all three.”37

  The Devonshires retreated to Bath so that the Duke, who was suffering from gout, could bathe in the springs. Every day reminded Georgiana that she had not been present as her father lay dying. She consoled herself by writing each morning to Bess:

  I am gulchy, gulchy when I reflect at the length of time that is elapsed since we first knew one another here, at the length of time since I have lost you, and at the distance to our meeting, but I comfort myself by thinking what a sacredness all this gives our friendship. Thank God we have been long enough united not to blush at the short period of our friendship. Dr dr dr Bess, you grow every day more and more Canis’s sister and your Georgine’s friend.38