They stayed in France until the end of August. Lady Spencer had left in July, taking the children with her. Little G had come down with a strange illness which Dr. Croft could not identify and which further convinced them that the children would be better off at home. For Bess it was a supreme irony to know that her arch enemy would be the means of transporting her daughter into Devonshire House; Lady Spencer was too anxious to leave to question Charlotte and Caroline’s inclusion in the party. “I regret the Duchess’s departure very much,” wrote Lady Sutherland, echoing the general sentiment among the Parisians. “As for Lady Elisabeth, she is nice enough but one can do without her, but the Duchess has a thousand good qualities and an excellent heart.”55 Georgiana’s experience of revolution in France and Belgium had made her wary about supporting political reform for its own sake, although she remained a steadfast Whig in her view that the monarchy must be balanced by Parliament. But some of the Whig speeches at home in support of the French Revolution struck her as rather naive. Lady Sutherland recorded that her husband “gave the Dss of Devonshire some good advice yesterday about the chance she had of being Mrs Cavendish if Sheridan has his way. Which did not seem to be ill taken or misunderstood.”56 The French were confused by Georgiana’s attitude. “The aristocrats suspected her of being a democrate, and the Democrates thought she was an aristocrate. Whatever her opinions and inclinations may be,” observed Lady Sutherland, “J’ai raison de croire that she and etc., are rather displeased with Sheridan and reverse to the reform of which I hope there is no danger in England.”57
Even without the children the entourage filled four packet boats. The Devonshires sailed in the first boat, followed by their servants and luggage crammed on to the three behind. Georgiana rarely let Hartington out of her sight. The trip to the Continent had given her a long-awaited son, and returned Caroline St. Jules to Bess. Yet the purpose of the journey remained unfinished: Georgiana still had to confess her debts and Bess’s son Clifford was marooned amid the chaos in Paris.
CHAPTER 15
EXPOSURE
1790–1791
The liberal, noble spirit of the Lady united to the head of [the Cavendish] family, whose charities are universal and whose benignity of heart is announced by the beaming graces of the most ingenuous, lovely, impassioned countenance ought to have operated as an example. . . . Her lively, mercurial temper was also admirably calculated to correct the phlegm of the family, with which she is connected; but fire and water cannot assimilate; and it grieves us to hear, that a separation has actually taken place.
The Jockey Club (pamphlet), C. Pigott, London 1792
Georgiana came home to find the Whigs split over the merits of the French Revolution. Burke and Sheridan were at the head of rival camps, with Burke claiming it as the triumph of despotic democracy, and Sheridan as a victory for citizen’s rights. Georgiana’s own views were closer to Sheridan’s than to Burke’s but her first-hand knowledge of the events also made her sympathetic to the latter. Fox wanted to remain a neutral friend to both men, but this became impossible after the publication of Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France in November 1790. “Everyone is taken up with Burke’s book,” Bess recorded. “Sheridan means to answer it. . . . Mr. Hare admires it very much more than C. Fox does.”1
Fox allowed Burke and Sheridan’s dispute to grow until it paralysed the party. Yet he still dithered, unable to decide which man to support, until on May 6, 1791, Edmund Burke made the decision for him. He renounced their thirty-year friendship from the floor of the Commons. The debate that day was on the constitution for Quebec, a fairly innocuous issue, but Burke turned it into a platform from which to denounce the new French republican constitution and the “deplorable condition of France itself.” Fox interrupted him before he provoked Sheridan into saying something cutting, but his hasty manner inflamed the sensitive Burke. He reacted as if Fox had personally slighted him and, enraged by years of collected grievances, turned to his former protégé and announced their irrevocable separation. Fox rose to his feet, too shocked to speak at first, tears streaming down his cheeks. Foxites and Pittites alike began shouting, some triumphant, others anguished. Horace Walpole recorded that when Fox recovered, his voice was broken with sobs while he “lamented on the loss of Burke’s friendship, and endeavoured to make atonement; but in vain, though Burke wept too—in short, it was the most affecting scene possible.”2
Years later, Georgiana admitted that she held Fox accountable for his failure of leadership at the critical moment.3 If he had not been so careless about “even necessary expedients” she was sure the party could have been saved. For one thing, she knew that Burke’s devastating criticism of Fox’s political beliefs was based on a misunderstanding: Fox had never supported the republican movement either in England or in France. In his own brand of Whiggery the French Revolution was a tremendous event because it was meant to bring about a constitutional monarchy similar to that inspired by the Glorious Revolution of 1688. He never advocated the deposition of Louis XVI, and he made plain his support for the French monarchy three months later, when the royal family were captured while attempting to flee the country. As soon as he heard the details of the King and Queen’s tragic flight to Varennes, of their return to Paris surrounded by a baying mob, and of their imprisonment in separate apartments, he wrote to Lafayette urging him to safeguard their lives.
Although Georgiana shared Fox’s enthusiasm for the concept of the French Revolution, her stay in Paris the previous year had alerted her to its dangers. She would never forget the unruly hatred of the mob, nor her last visit to Marie Antoinette when the taunts of the crowd could be heard outside the gates. Since her return to England Georgiana had allied herself with a select group of Englishmen who were striving to contain the revolution within reasonable bounds. Like Fox, she maintained her contacts within the various political camps and wrote to them constantly, although she remained closest to Calonne. The flight to Varennes was a double blow to Georgiana since she had counted on him to organize resistance on the monarchy’s behalf. The abortive escape planned by Count Fersen was a complete surprise. Georgiana did not wait for further events before she tried to organize a letter campaign urging the Assembly to treat the King and Queen with restraint. She also wrote to Lafayette and warned him that his reputation was at stake. Resenting English interference, he replied indignantly that the royal family were not in any danger, and asked her to tell the same thing to the French émigrés now residing in London.4
The flight to Varennes was such an unexpected blow that it briefly reunited Georgiana and the Duke of Dorset. They had not been in contact with each other since the previous November. Georgiana had tried to re-establish a friendly relationship on her return, but Dorset, having married a woman whom he despised, betrayed too much anxiety to resume their affair.
I am happy to find there are some parts of ancient amitié yet remaining [he wrote in reply to her letter]. Your silence m’a fait beaucoup de peine, but your oublie me ferait un mal inexprimable,* I think your affections are fixed on somebody in France, at least you are occupied with quelquechose plus qu’a ordinaire or otherwise you would have written to me oftener, but not more affectionately cependant than in your last letter, therefore I flatter myself que peu à peu vous retrouverei pour moi vos ancien sentiments.†5
He was mortified when he realized his mistake, and there was no more communication between them until June. However, as soon as the news of the flight to Varennes reached England he impulsively wrote to her, apologizing first: “my silence my dear Duchess has not proceeded from any motive of forgetfulness or méchanceté [spite], but from various reasons. . . . however I am very willing to recommence a letter correspondant could I but feel that you had some degree of pleasure et intérêt in receiving my letters.”6
They were soon exchanging news with each other almost every day, Dorset passing on official reports from the embassy, Georgiana relaying information from Calonne. In August he sent an express to Ba
th; “all of Europe is anxiously waiting” to see whether the King of Prussia would go to Marie Antoinette’s aid—Georgiana had to travel to London for meetings at his house.7 She replied evasively that there were reasons why she could not leave Bath, reasons that she could not reveal to anyone.
The Duke had given Georgiana until Hartington, now nicknamed Hart, was weaned to prepare her accounts. She felt certain that he would want a separation as soon as he learned the truth and she put off the day as long as she could. It was only Bess’s vehement insistence that she would take her side which made Georgiana begin the process at all. Now that Bess could have the Duke to herself the two women were closer than they had ever been before. Ironically, Lady Spencer was still scheming to have her rival removed from Devonshire House. She had befriended the children’s governess, Selina Trimmer, during their stay in France, and used her to spy on and torment Bess.* Georgiana did not suspect the alliance between her mother and Selina for several months. It was small things which struck her first: Selina seemed to know about her plans in advance, and her mother’s knowledge of nursery happenings was as good if not better than her own. Then she noticed that servants were taking their cue from Selina and behaving with marked insolence towards Bess. She was breastfeeding Hart in the nursery one day when the door opened and Bess walked in. The nursery staff, led by Selina, remained seated as if another member of staff had entered. The insult was pointed. Bess had originally arrived at Devonshire House in 1782 as “Charlotte’s governess.”
Georgiana guessed that someone with authority—it could only be her mother—was encouraging Selina. It gave rise to one of her rare acts of rebellion.
I shrewdly suspect that, elevated and a little spoilt, I doubt, by your kindness, [Selina] has ventur’d to talk on subjects quite out of her line. I have, Dst. M., a great opinion of Miss T’s principles and talents for education, but I see her so alter’d, thinking herself so independent of me, that it is really impossible for me not to suspect her. . . . if I ever can discover that she interferes in anything but the care of their education, or that she stands between you and me in any way whatsoever, I could not submit to have a person whom I look’d upon in that light another moment in the house with me.
Georgiana explained her feelings to Lady Spencer with uncharacteristic boldness: “in the difficult part your dislike to Ly Eliz puts me to, added to my money anxieties, I cannot suffer the additional uneasiness of seeing that a young person whom you have known but 2 years has more of your confidence and knows more of your intentions than I do.”8
Georgiana also attempted to settle the question of Bess’s presence once and for all; she lived with them, she said, because both she and the Duke wanted it that way. “I am born to a most complicated misery. I had run into errors, that would have made any other man discard me,” she declared, and it was owing to Bess’s influence that the marriage had remained intact. “Her society was delightful to us, and her gentleness and affection sooth’d the bitterness that [my] misfortunes had brought on us. And the mother, whom I adore . . . sets herself up in the opposite scale, forgets all the affection her son-in-law has shewn her, and only says: I will deprive them of their friend or of my countenance.”9 After this simplistic description of her domestic situation Lady Spencer found it difficult to argue without going into more painful and complicated detail. She had witnessed Georgiana’s unhappiness in the early days, and she would never be able to forget Bess’s air of triumph that first summer at Chatsworth. Her daughter insisted that the Duke “has often told me that (if we continue to live together, which my unfortunate conduct about money renders very doubtful), if I had a moment’s uneasiness about her he certainly would be far from wishing her to live with us,” but Lady Spencer regarded this and other similar protestations with extreme scepticism.
While defending Bess to Lady Spencer, Georgiana also unconsciously revealed her own affair with Grey. She repeated in her next letter that the Duke was no more likely to have an affair than herself: “Was I absolutely discovered in an intrigue, you could not be more uneasy than at the possibility of your son-in-law having an attachment.”10 If Lady Spencer had not been distracted by the subject of the letter, its language might have alerted her to the fact that this was an oblique confession. As it was, her daughter’s desperate tone—“for God’s sake have compassion on me, I am so unwell and so miserable”—left her shaken. Lady Spencer promised she never would and never did speak about Bess to anyone, except sometimes “a little vent of impatience in talking to your sister. . . . I grieve from my soul that I hinted a word about anything that could give you pain.” She swiftly returned to the question of Georgiana’s debts. “Do not say that money matters are hopeless,” she urged. “A firm resolution not to buy so much as a yard of ribband will soon effect wonders you are little aware of. This is a disagreeable subject but one on which I think I can sometimes be of use.”11
Hart was weaned in November, and Georgiana had no choice but to compile a list of her creditors. Friends as well as family, Sheridan and Hare in particular, begged her not to hide anything. She finally presented a list of over thirty names, some of them surprising, such as “Scafe, £2,638: brother to a servant,” and others which hinted at murky dealings in the City—“Statta: £3700: an imposition.” The amount came to £61,917.* But, as some had feared, it was a sanitized version of her situation: there was no mention, for example, of the thousands borrowed from the Prince, or of the life annuity of £500 she was paying to William Galley, bookmaker to the ton.
In order to show her contrition Georgiana asked her trustees to sign over her settlement to the Duke, which would leave her destitute if they separated. It was a sad irony considering Harriet’s bravery in refusing to relinquish hers to Duncannon. The act, impulsive as it was and driven more by guilt than sound judgement, failed to appease the Duke or the Cavendishes. Bess warned Georgiana to leave the Duke alone and to trust her to ease him slowly into accepting the sum. Georgiana listened to her advice, but the anxiety of waiting for his decision gave her headaches which left her prostrate for days at a time. “I have not a guess of my future destination,” she confided to her mother.12 Lady Mary Coke noticed that Georgiana rarely went out any more. “The Duchess of Devonshire has been less talked of this winter than I have ever known.”13
In February, while the Duke was still deliberating, the Stock Exchange suffered the major collapse of a private share syndicate. According to Lady Mary,
tis the conversation of the town . . . [Georgiana] has it seems been gambling on the stocks, and to such an extent that her loss is now too considerable to remain any longer a secret. Tis said she is fifty thousand pounds the loser, and if the report of the day is to be believed she is posted up as a lame duck. I pity the Duke of Devonshire, and all his family, who must be secretly feeling this great folly of her Grace—for a long time all her indiscretions were pardon’d by her friends by the excuse of youth—that plea no longer to be alleged in her favour, what can they now say?14
Harriet was also involved. “Surely there must have been a great neglect in their education [for] two daughters to turn out so,” mused a Mrs. Trevor to Lady Hestor Stanhope.15 Others, like their sister-in-law Lavinia, attributed it to character. She had no sympathy at all and blamed Georgiana’s predicament on self-indulgence. “As for your sister,” she fulminated to George, “she pretends to be always ill to account for her neglect of everybody, but at the same time is able to Dine at Dinners of twenty people & to be at the opera & all assemblies & have company at home. . . . if I cared a farthing for her I should be hurt at it—but as it is now between us I heartily hope she may never trouble herself to come to me again.”16 The £500 Georgiana had borrowed and not yet repaid rankled as well. Lavinia and George had, after all, been forced to go abroad for a year to pay off the late Lord Spencer’s debts against the estate.
The Cavendishes told the Duke he was a fool to support his wife any longer, and at a noisy family meeting to discuss her debts the Duchess of Portland
accused her of deliberate malice. “I got into a passion,” was all Georgiana would say of the confrontation, but she was aghast at the strength of the feeling against her. The Duke’s formidable sister pronounced Georgiana’s ostracism from the family; henceforth they would cut her in public and avoid her in private. This was worse than she had expected. “Is it not hard to have liv’d with the Dss as a sister,” she wrote to Coutts. “To have shared my house with her like her own; to have ever been anxious to prove my affection to her and now that I am in distress and affliction to feel that all hope of being reconciled is over.”17
The distress she was referring to was not only financial. Harriet had collapsed with some sort of stroke. She was paralysed down one side of her body and suffering from severe fits. What exactly had happened to her is unclear, and was a closely guarded secret at the time. “She had a most violent illness, the precise cause of which the Physicians could not account for,” was all even close friends knew. Mrs. Damer thought it was “some inward disease” connected with a miscarriage. The more fanciful declared: “She was not ill at all but confined by her husband.”18 It may have been a botched abortion or, more likely, a suicide attempt. Duncannon featured so largely in the rumours that he may also have played a sinister part. There were no more stories of ill-treatment after the incident; perhaps he was shocked into changing his behaviour.
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