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I have been reading Georgiana: Duchess of Devonshire this week. And it’s not good for my blood pressure. Let me tell you, internets, about Amanda Foreman’s sickening, fawning, absolutely useless biography of a sickening, fawning, absolutely useless woman.
Firstly, the part that offends the historian in me: I cannot believe that Foreman is a historical researcher at Oxford. Her primary sources are, for the most part, absolutely irrelevant. Each chapter is prefaced by some random newspaper report about a new fashion – it really gives one the feeling that Foreman just grabbed whatever sources she could and stuck them all in there, with no attempt to interpret the text. The most infuriating part is that Foreman counts Georgiana as the primary source for one of the few interesting parts of the book – the madness of King George – and then promptly glosses over that to tell us about yet another intensely boring gambling problem and a parliamentary debate! Apparently, this book came about after the author researched Georgiana for her PhD - and by God, it shows. It's such a plodding, meandering collection of sources with little interpretation.
Here's an example of the titillating, completely relevant details we learn about Georgiana: the spoilt cow and her cohorts make up their own accent and dialect in order to prove how very special they are. They send each other sickening letters like ‘How do oo do?’ (Apparently, it was far too common to pronounce ‘you’ correctly.) Wait, why was I reading such claptrap, again? Even James Hare remarks on the self-indulgent notes she sends to her friend Bess whilst they're in the same house: ‘…The usual answer is, “As oo do, so does poor little I, by itself.”’
Aren’t these fully-grown women just adorable?
The best thing is that Bess is her husband’s mistress. Who lives with them. Not that Georgiana displays any fighting spirit or intelligence, but cries and weeps when people point out that Bess is probably not the best person to have around. And then Bess gets pregnant with the Duke’s baby, Georgiana (‘Jaw-Jayna’ in the stupid Devonshire house patois) with some random politician’s child and…and… no, it’s too annoying to relate. Needless to say, there are few repercussions and the two silly women have a troupe of children who probably send more literate notes to each other.
I also find it unforgivable that Foreman tries to move us to tears with how very, very terrible things are for Georgiana. (She gambles away to the tune of ₤6 million in modern terms and has to escape her creditors by – oh, dear God, how could she bear it? - fleeing to the Continent to ‘take the waters’ for her delicate, fragile health.) Georgiana, she asserts, is incredibly brave in going near France, poor lamb, for she ‘feared her creditors more than the depredations of semi-literate revolutionaries.’
Wait. Let me get this straight, Foreman:
You mention in passing that people in France are rioting, killing because they are literally starving to death. Everyone from Marie-Antoinette to the people gathering in angry crowds at the Palais Royal has spent the last few years in a whirl of pamphlets, outraged speeches and literature, citing the very literate Rousseau and his famous Man is in chains quote – and you sneer at them for being semi-literate? How very dare they riot about starving to death when poor, brilliant Georgiana has gambling debts that make her pretend to be sick every time anyone mentions it?
You know, I’m not one of those who wept when Diana died. I don’t consider the woman a Saint. But I do feel some sympathy for her. She did some excellent humanitarian works – raising awareness on landmines, HIV… this spoilt, stupid, stupid ancestor of hers whom Foreman paints as an 18th century Diana did nothing of the sort! The much-maligned Marie-Antoinette was more concerned with the poor and the unfortunate. Antonia Fraser managed to write a brilliant biography which completely rehabilitated her and revealed the tormented, gentle queen beneath centuries of negative propaganda. Foreman, in contrast, does a splendid job of introducing the reader to a woman and making her intensely dislikeable with every dubious claim about how fantastic and revolutionary she is. Georgiana goes out, dressed like a moron in fox tails to canvas for Fox (who asked her to sponsor him for Parliament as a favour), is duly called a moron by the public and press, and suddenly she’s this amazing, spirited predecessor who made the world a better place? What bravery! What an amazing person, completely deserving of a 400-page biography.
Perhaps the most infuriating thing about this dull, stupid book is that Georgiana’s younger sister, Harriet, seems to have led the more sympathetic life. She was overlooked by her mother in favour of her annoying sister. She married a man who was a strange mixture of devotion and absolute cruelty, who beat her mercilessly, although she fought back against him as bravely as she could. Her daughter was the infamous Caroline Lamb whom fascinated Byron. She was determined, fiercely loyal and never gave up. I wish there had been more on her and not the spoilt, stupid woman who couldn’t even pronounce her own name.
Firstly, the part that offends the historian in me: I cannot believe that Foreman is a historical researcher at Oxford. Her primary sources are, for the most part, absolutely irrelevant. Each chapter is prefaced by some random newspaper report about a new fashion – it really gives one the feeling that Foreman just grabbed whatever sources she could and stuck them all in there, with no attempt to interpret the text. The most infuriating part is that Foreman counts Georgiana as the primary source for one of the few interesting parts of the book – the madness of King George – and then promptly glosses over that to tell us about yet another intensely boring gambling problem and a parliamentary debate! Apparently, this book came about after the author researched Georgiana for her PhD - and by God, it shows. It's such a plodding, meandering collection of sources with little interpretation.
Here's an example of the titillating, completely relevant details we learn about Georgiana: the spoilt cow and her cohorts make up their own accent and dialect in order to prove how very special they are. They send each other sickening letters like ‘How do oo do?’ (Apparently, it was far too common to pronounce ‘you’ correctly.) Wait, why was I reading such claptrap, again? Even James Hare remarks on the self-indulgent notes she sends to her friend Bess whilst they're in the same house: ‘…The usual answer is, “As oo do, so does poor little I, by itself.”’
Aren’t these fully-grown women just adorable?
The best thing is that Bess is her husband’s mistress. Who lives with them. Not that Georgiana displays any fighting spirit or intelligence, but cries and weeps when people point out that Bess is probably not the best person to have around. And then Bess gets pregnant with the Duke’s baby, Georgiana (‘Jaw-Jayna’ in the stupid Devonshire house patois) with some random politician’s child and…and… no, it’s too annoying to relate. Needless to say, there are few repercussions and the two silly women have a troupe of children who probably send more literate notes to each other.
I also find it unforgivable that Foreman tries to move us to tears with how very, very terrible things are for Georgiana. (She gambles away to the tune of ₤6 million in modern terms and has to escape her creditors by – oh, dear God, how could she bear it? - fleeing to the Continent to ‘take the waters’ for her delicate, fragile health.) Georgiana, she asserts, is incredibly brave in going near France, poor lamb, for she ‘feared her creditors more than the depredations of semi-literate revolutionaries.’
Wait. Let me get this straight, Foreman:
You mention in passing that people in France are rioting, killing because they are literally starving to death. Everyone from Marie-Antoinette to the people gathering in angry crowds at the Palais Royal has spent the last few years in a whirl of pamphlets, outraged speeches and literature, citing the very literate Rousseau and his famous Man is in chains quote – and you sneer at them for being semi-literate? How very dare they riot about starving to death when poor, brilliant Georgiana has gambling debts that make her pretend to be sick every time anyone mentions it?
You know, I’m not one of those who wept when Diana died. I don’t consider the woman a Saint. But I do feel some sympathy for her. She did some excellent humanitarian works – raising awareness on landmines, HIV… this spoilt, stupid, stupid ancestor of hers whom Foreman paints as an 18th century Diana did nothing of the sort! The much-maligned Marie-Antoinette was more concerned with the poor and the unfortunate. Antonia Fraser managed to write a brilliant biography which completely rehabilitated her and revealed the tormented, gentle queen beneath centuries of negative propaganda. Foreman, in contrast, does a splendid job of introducing the reader to a woman and making her intensely dislikeable with every dubious claim about how fantastic and revolutionary she is. Georgiana goes out, dressed like a moron in fox tails to canvas for Fox (who asked her to sponsor him for Parliament as a favour), is duly called a moron by the public and press, and suddenly she’s this amazing, spirited predecessor who made the world a better place? What bravery! What an amazing person, completely deserving of a 400-page biography.
Perhaps the most infuriating thing about this dull, stupid book is that Georgiana’s younger sister, Harriet, seems to have led the more sympathetic life. She was overlooked by her mother in favour of her annoying sister. She married a man who was a strange mixture of devotion and absolute cruelty, who beat her mercilessly, although she fought back against him as bravely as she could. Her daughter was the infamous Caroline Lamb whom fascinated Byron. She was determined, fiercely loyal and never gave up. I wish there had been more on her and not the spoilt, stupid woman who couldn’t even pronounce her own name.
