Georgiana Spencer was the daughter of Lord Spencer, afterwards first
Earl Spencer; but her impulsiveness, her waywardness, and improvidence
were a legacy from her grandfather, "Jack" Spencer, the grandson and
special favorite of the beautiful Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. Her
"Torismond," she called him. His was a career of profligacy, a course
of error and extravagance. His mother was Lady Sunderland, known in
society as "the little Whig," from her small stature and her
persistent politics. Her party badge was always worn,--the black patch
on the left side of the face, as distinguished from the Tory fashion
of wearing it on the right side. So Georgiana came legitimately by her
beauty, her Whiggish politics, and her versatile vivacity of manner,
as well as her improvidence and indiscretion.

But her mother's strong character was a potent influence. She was the
daughter of the Right Honorable Stephen Poyntz, and was of high repute
for generosity, for sensibility, for charity, and for courteous
dignity of demeanor. We hear of Georgiana being a beautiful child; and
Reynolds as well as Gainsborough, both made painted record of that
childish beauty. Her brightness of mind gave her an interest in art,
in music, and in literature; and, though not proficient in the
practice of either, she had more than the society woman's knowledge of
them. At seventeen, she married William, fifth Duke of Devonshire,
ten years her senior. His was a temperament antipathetic to
hers,--unsympathetic, unimpressionable, and taciturn, yet withal of
the Cavendish characteristic persistency of purpose and honest intent.

The Duchess at once became a queen of society in the Carlton House
Court. Devonshire House was an assembly place for the Whigs; and its
lovely mistress was the hostess of many a statesman exalted by his
wit, as of many a politician with following by virtue of his station.
Like all radical companies, it was a motley mixture that found welcome
there. The Prince of Wales was a devotee. The then shining Sheridan
was a frequenter; but with the name of Fox has that of the Duchess
been more associated than of aught other. Her supremacy among these
companions was not in the manner of the French Salon leaders,--while
wit, knowledge, and tact were hers, she lived not by learning, but by
her liveliness and jollity. She was not the scholar in politics, but
the politician among scholars out of school.

It was a roystering, revelling company; and