The Duchess

by Amanda Foreman

  The invasion scare started a run on the banks, which Pitt was only able to contain by allowing the Bank of England to suspend cash payments until the situation was restored. The people who suffered most were ordinary debtors who found themselves inundated with calls they could not oblige. Georgiana and Harriet were both caught out by the panic, and Harriet frightened Georgiana by exhibiting the same kind of hysteria that had preceded her collapse in 1791. Since then Georgiana had assumed responsibility for both their debts. “At that time,” she explained to a cousin, “I put myself at the head of her affaires, as indeed I ought its having been my example and folly that had drawn her in.”6

  When Coutts brought up the subject with Harriet instead of with Georgiana, she “was thrown into violent hystericks and past the day very ill indeed.”7 Georgiana penned him a letter in frail and shaky writing, begging him never to do it again: “tho’ she feels and knows she has vast unpaid debts, I have from the time of her illness kept off all agitation, all talk of money by desiring everybody to address themselves to me. . . . All I entreat, Dr. Sir, in the future, is that you wd apply to me, but oh, for God’s sake never, never to her. . . . the calamity of my nearly losing my eye, and, if I recover sight, being in part disfigur’d, has not render’d her state of health more prosperous or her affairs in better plight.” She added simply: “Were I to abandon her because I have not my former health, I should betray that adoration I have ever felt for her.”8

  The burden of carrying Harriet’s debts as well as her own forced Georgiana to go to the Duke. “The expectation of having these discussions made me such a coward about applying to D. of D. but it was necessary and will do good,” she told Lady Spencer.9 In May she wrote over-optimistically that he seemed inclined to help and “my difficulties [are] settled.”10 She was not telling the truth since the Duke did not know the full extent of the difficulties. He also put off paying the debts which she had disclosed. Georgiana was loath to press him when he was disturbed by other worries: Ireland appeared to be on the brink of civil war and, like many of the Whig grandees, the Duke still derived considerable income from his Irish estates. His land holdings and family connections within the Protestant ascendancy gave the Cavendishes almost as much influence in Irish politics as they had in English. Georgiana told Little G, “the accounts from Ireland are so various that your Papa does not like my leaving him in this anxious moment. . . . if any misfortune should happen in Ireland we should be very much reduc’d in our circumstances.”11

  Georgiana had become reclusive since her illness, but the events taking place in Ireland revived some of her former energy. She was convinced that a policy of cross-party co-operation over Ireland would be in the island’s best interests. The Duke agreed to her request to vote in support of George in the Lords. But her brother took a different view and berated Georgiana for interfering.

  She lapsed into silence for a while until rumours that there was an anti-Spencer cabal forming in government prompted her to resume writing to him. She sent a letter with their names attached: “I do give you my word of honour that what I said is true for I have heard it from ministerial people,” she wrote, “that there is amongst the supporters of Govt a strong party crying up Ld Hood and abusing you when they dare.”12

  It was ironic that Fox should choose to resign from active politics just as Georgiana was beginning to emerge from her own retirement. He kept his seat in Parliament, but he decided that attending was a depressing and futile effort. He retreated to his house at St. Anne’s Hill. Some party members—mostly his close friends—applauded his action; however, the majority resented him for leaving them in the lurch. Even Georgiana’s small dinners for three or four of her friends often ended in acrimonious arguments. Sheridan still went to Devonshire House, accompanied by his new wife, Hecca, a pert, talkative girl half his age, but he invariably provoked violent quarrels with the other guests. He was torn between wishing to show himself a good Foxite and taking advantage of Fox’s absence in Parliament. Yet he was outraged when he learned that Fox was grooming Grey (who briefly seceded with Fox and then changed his mind) to be his eventual successor.

  Georgiana judged Fox’s decision less harshly than the others. She believed that the majority of the House secretly sympathized with Fox’s assertion that Pitt was a dangerous Prime Minister who held no respect for civil liberty. The House supported Pitt, Georgiana theorized, because “they respect him, as often a wife does her husband; think him a very disagreeable fellow, but a good manager of their views and happiness; and now, though they think he has been going and going on too far, yet they still cling to their spouse, lest the separation or divorce should bring on immediate ruin.”13 However, Georgiana’s loyalty to Fox clouded her judgement. The House had no sympathy for Fox and regarded him as a demagogue with suspect views. His secession from Parliament was a tactical error in a career stunted by poor judgement and self-indulgence. With most of the Foxites out of the way, the debating talent in Parliament was now all on Pitt’s side.

  Georgiana tried not to let Fox’s retirement distract her from her own project of reentering the political realm. She continued to write to George about Irish affairs. Her commitment, as well as the quality of her comments, finally earned her a grudging respect from him. As pockets of unrest spread to other parts of Ireland she often sent George the private reports of their local agent in the hope that the relatively impartial information might be useful for cabinet discussions. The government’s policy of repression struck her as counter-productive, and she argued that legal and civil discrimination against Irish Catholics would only make rebellion inevitable.14 However, Georgiana was always careful to couch her disagreements with George in a respectful tone: “Alas connected as I am with all sides it must be my hope that things yet may not come to the horrors of civil war. I hate some of your colleagues, but I am really quite come over to Mr Pitt, because I believe he is sincerely attach’d to you,” she wrote, “and knows and values you as you deserve. But I think both you and him too often cede your opinion to that of others. God bless you. I never knew till now how much I love you.”15

  “I believe the Government is coming over to the opinion of Duke of D. and indeed all reasonable people, about granting emancipation to the Catholics,” Georgiana triumphantly told her mother, meaning that George had proved receptive to her arguments. Government policy, however, did not change. The King and his ministers would never espouse what was in any case a Whig position.

  The Duke was moved by her interest in Ireland even though he disliked anything which distracted her attention away from him. He was in continual pain from his gout and he expected Georgiana to act as his nurse. She was kind towards him and they were more receptive to each other now than at any time past. His habitual reserve with her gradually faded and, after two decades of marriage, they managed to forgive and accept one another. Bess rarely accompanied them to Chatsworth any more. She preferred to remain at Devonshire House, holding soirées of her own which she would describe in chatty letters to Georgiana. In December 1797 Lady Spencer went to stay with Georgiana and the Duke at Hardwick. The scenes she had witnessed made her hope that Bess’s marriage would take place soon. She attributed the happy family atmosphere to Bess’s absence:

  The Dss said a few nights ago that Lady E’s time at Goodwood [with the Duke of Richmond] was nearly over and she did not know whether she would come here or go to Chiswick—it will not be a matter of indifference to me, for our present party is so pleasant and one that I shall be sorry to have any change—I have not for many years seen the D and Dss seem so happy in each other—she looks extremely well and he seems delighted with her civility to the neighbouring families who occasionally come, he listens often with attention to her conversation with other people, and I often see a cheerful whisper between them which is very pleasant and in her last headache he was in and out of his room perpetually to know how she did—all this and the acquaintance he is making with his children induced me to wish to prolong our stay as l
ong as we can go on as we now are.16

  Georgiana’s life had indeed changed. It proceeded at a slower and more gentle rhythm. Before, she had lived in a “perpetual hurry,” always surrounded by people. When the remnants of the Devonshire House Circle visited her now they often found her engaged in writing a poem, or designing a new flower bed. She had the opportunity to indulge her considerable creative talents, and with the Duke’s acquiescence she amused herself by refurbishing their houses. Chiswick House received the most attention with an ambitious plan to repair it using Lord Burlington’s original drawings. Built in 1729 to resemble Palladio’s Villa Rotonda, it was much smaller than Devonshire House, yet infinitely more elegant in design. Lord Burlington had always intended the villa to be his country retreat and had overseen every detail. Georgiana spent some of her happiest moments at Chiswick, calling it “My earthly paradise.” She planted lilac, honeysuckle, and climbing roses along the walls by her window so that her bedroom would be filled with scent through the spring and summer.

  When Harriet was in London or Roehampton, it was not unusual for Georgiana to spend many hours on her own at this time. The experience, though sometimes painful, helped her to gain insight and strength. She became less afraid to be direct with people; no longer was she frightened of disagreeing or of saying the word “no.” With Selina, for example, she was able to talk frankly about the tensions between them:

  Surely you must know the infirmity of my nature, that with a heart not bad (I humbly trust) I have an instability of nature that is sometimes madness. The only alleviation of this to my friends is that it is only to those I love I have ever shown these odious destructive paroxysms. A thousand little fancys, little suspicions and jealousys had long, perhaps, been brooding in my mind. A spark, I know not what, brought it out. Dearest Selina, if I hurt you or offended you I ask your pardon from the bottom of my heart. . . . Never, never in the future shall you have the least cause of complaint . . . and do not refuse me an entire oblivion for the past. . . . indeed, Dr. Selina, I never knew before how much I lov’d you. . . . I am sure you cannot misunderstand the sincere and grateful affection that dictates this, and the tears that run down my cheeks whilst I write would prove it to you.17

  Georgiana also invited Charles Grey and his wife to Devonshire House. Incredibly, Mary had no knowledge of the love affair or Eliza. She had no notion why Georgiana should make such an effort to know her, but the friendship which developed was genuine on Mary’s part. Georgiana’s motives were obviously mixed in the beginning, and were almost certainly driven by a desire to be close to Grey. Nevertheless her letters to Mary breathe unfeigned warmth: “Dear Mary, my heart is still young in enthusiastick love of my friends and my children,” she wrote in 1798. “And amongst them I do indeed love and value you and feel interested in your happiness beyond expression.” In some way, Mary’s affection compensated Georgiana for the loss of Grey’s. Their first child, Louisa, also became the recipient of Georgiana’s particular regard: “Your little Loo, too, I consider as mes petites entrailles* and feel like her grandmother,” she wrote with a far deeper, and poignant, meaning than the words conveyed.18 It was not lost on Grey. In time the relationship between the two women enabled Georgiana and Grey to achieve their own private rapprochement.

  In the same year, some twenty months after her illness, Georgiana acknowledged that the partial loss of her eyesight had brought her a kind of peace. It had forced her to learn to be honest with herself. There was, therefore, something symbolic in Georgiana’s choice of Mary Grey as the person to whom she described her new life. Mary represented the future for Grey, while Georgiana knew that she represented his past.

  My eye goes on well [she wrote] tho’ I know I shall be blind: but I have learnt a degree of philosophy and think you would all take care of me. It really is so much my idea at times that I see all the pretty places I can and examine all the flowers and prospects to store my mind with images if I lose my sight. Music would be my greatest resource and I play more than I us’d, but dependence I fear would be my chief evil. But alas Dr. Mary, I was 40 years old last June and at that age one must use oneself to personal disasters. I have learnt however to love my age, and not be ashamed of it and my illness perhaps was a benefit in making me relinquish at once the ridiculous trade of an old beauty.19

  Georgiana’s period of reflection was cut short in May 1798 by the long-anticipated uprising in Ireland. She blamed the government for “not consulting enough with the great Irish Lords,” meaning the Whigs.20 Two immediate issues concerned her: first, the fate of the Cavendish estates, and second, the prospect of the rebellion becoming a religious war. She was fervently opposed to the use of executions and terror to cow the Catholic population. “I think the mode of torturing to extract confession so disgraceful and horrid that were it sure of saving Ireland I should deprecate it,” she wrote.21 It was her opinion, which ran contrary to the majority, that the absentee Whig landlords should show that they

  feel for the people of Ireland whilst they disapprove of the Rebels. In the indiscriminate manner in which our troops have burnt villages, etc., how many innocent must perish—and tho’ it is very well for those who have no lands in Ireland to talk big and say that extermination is the only means. We who receive the produce of the labour of the Irish and whose tenants still call the D. of D. their father must feel that this mode of conquest is but a bad [decision] . . . the rebels are a bloody, cruel set, but that is no example for us and if it is possible to keep some right by mercy and coaxing how far better.*22

  Lord Camden, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, resigned in June, and Lord Cornwallis, who was both a diplomat and an experienced general, was dispatched with the greatest urgency to take his place. Georgiana decided that this was the moment for the Duke to make a statement in the House of Lords. The absentee landlords, Georgiana reasoned, were the people most affected by the uprising; it was up to them to reassure their tenants in Ireland and to make it clear to the government that repression was neither desirable nor practical. The Duke was reluctant to speak but after much prodding by Georgiana and the other Whig magnates he agreed to speak in support of the Duke of Leinster’s motion for an inquiry into the state of Ireland. His speech was short, lasting for less than half an hour, perhaps on account of his being “sadly nervous and frightened,” and simply reiterated the Whig view that the government should be conciliatory but firm. Georgiana, however, regarded the occasion as one of the greatest triumphs of her life. “It was a proud evening for me,” she told her mother. “I heard from a supporter of [the] ministry that [the speech] was manly, calm, elegant and impartial. My brother answered the motion but there was no warmth, it was truly the great Council of the Nation debating on the best ways of doing good.”23

  Cornwallis stopped the rebellion without resorting to the destruction and bloodshed that Georgiana and the Duke had feared. A small French contingent landed in County Mayo in support of the rebels on August 22, but they were too late to offer any useful assistance to the rebels. The danger was over. For Georgiana, the crisis in Ireland had been a lesson in political independence; instead of taking her cue from Fox, who refused to get involved, she had acted on her own initiative.24 She had argued with George, sent him information and advice, and diligently pursued her own line. It was ironic that the demise of the Whig party had, in part, solved her dilemma about showing a masculine interest in politics. Georgiana called the Irish debate in the Lords “the great Council of the Nation” to show that she considered the Irish question to be above politics. Party politics, she could rationalize to herself, was the consequence of private ambition, but national politics was an expression of individual patriotism. She was not guilty of female impropriety, in her view, so long as the beneficiary was the country. Not even George could take issue with such pious sentiments.25

  Ireland still occupied Georgiana’s thoughts in September. “I am sorry to say that the people in this neighbourhood are determined to join the French when they arrive,” con
fided General Frederick St. John, who was stationed near their estates. “If they come in force the country is gone.”26 The only comfort in his report was that the Cavendish name was still popular because of the charity distributed by their agent at Lismore. A month later, however, the threat of an imminent French invasion was removed by news of Nelson’s dramatic victory at the Battle of the Nile. This was the first major British success in six years. Britain now controlled the Mediterranean while Bonaparte’s army remained stranded in Egypt. “We intend all of us to wear laurels on our heads at the public day,” Georgiana wrote on October 8. “I wish to God Buonaparte would do the only thing I think he can do now, surrender himself and his troops to so great and generous a foe [Nelson].”27

  Further trouble concerning Ireland prevented Georgiana from withdrawing into herself as she had done the previous winter. She still had bouts of depression, however, and so disliked the idea of people looking at her that she contemplated wearing a mask. “I am sorry to say that I grow more shy ev’ry day and hate going anywhere except to my own boxes at the play and opera,” she told Lady Spencer. “I have not seen Ly Sutherland these 3 months, and ev’ry day makes me worse, I think. I shall be oblig’d to take le saut perileux for Georgiana when she comes out but till then it is not worth teazing myself with visits and going to assemblys . . .”28

  Georgiana was perhaps overly sensitive about her appearance. A visitor to Chatsworth in November 1798 thought that reports had been exaggerated: “the dss looks amazingly handsome when she is dressed, notwithstanding her eye which is I fear quite gone—it disfigures her less than one could have conceived possible but there it is, a sad thing.”*29 Horace Walpole gave his opinion that she looked “much altered.” But Georgiana was by no means ugly: indeed she was not so unattractive as to prevent Sir Philip Francis from falling in love with her.