* When he wrote his memoirs in 1801 Colonel George Hanger, a former lover of Lady Melbourne’s, claimed that several ladies in the Devonshire House Circle had fallen into the same trap.
†In circumstances very similar to the suicide of Mrs Damer’s husband in 1775.
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