The Duchess is the rather sad story of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, played by Keira Knightley. The film opens in 1774, when she is seventeen. Beautiful, intelligent and vivacious, life for Georgiana is about having fun with her friends.

However, her society is dominated by the idea of duty, and her mother Margaret (Charlotte Rampling), wife of the first Earl Spencer, is arranging her marriage to William, Duke of Devonshire (Ralph Feinnes). Georgiana is thrilled by the prospect of becoming a duchess, but soon after they're married, she discovers that William is remote and lacking in affection (notice how static their shared scenes are, whereas other scenes are fluid and full of movement). It seems that he is only interested in her producing a male heir - and in having sex with other women.

Georgiana nevertheless becomes a celebrated society figure, renowned for her beauty, style and political involvement. One character wryly reflects that, 'the Duke of Devonshire must be the only man in England not to be in love with his wife.'

When they are staying in Bath a few years later, Georgiana becomes close friends with Lady Elizabeth (Bess) Foster (Hayley Atwell), who is separated from her husband and prohibited from seeing her children by him. She ends up living with the Devonshires and before long William begins an affair with her. Georgiana is incensed, crying, 'I have never objected to any of your affairs . . . She is the sole comfort in our marriage. You have robbed me of my only friend.' But when the Duke refuses to throw Bess out, Georgiana resigns herself to the ménage à trios, which continues for more than twenty years until her death (after which William married Bess, and found a new mistress).

The affair destroys, for a time, the friendship between Georgiana and Bess. Bess claims that sleeping with the Duke is her only hope of ever seeing her children again, since he is one of the most powerful men in the country. 'There are limits to the sacrifices one makes for one's children,' retorts Georgiana. But Bess's simple reply is, 'No. There are no limits.' Georgiana eventually discovers this for herself. An affair with promising young politician, Charles Grey (later to be the Earl Grey after whom the tea is named), seems to bring love and happiness. But the Duke warns her that if she does not give Charles up, she will never see her children again.

What is particularly interesting about The Duchess is not so much that Georgiana's life has fascinating parallels with that of a later Spencer (Diana, who became Princess of Wales and later reflected that 'there are three in this marriage'), but our reaction to it.

From the outset, the film encourages us to see Georgiana as full of joy and vitality, and therefore to feel pity for her being married off to a repressed and selfish bore. Later, we see her love affair with Charles as her chance for happiness. We see the social conventions and morality of Georgian Britain as stifling and imprisoning, forcing her into enduring a dreadful domestic arrangement.

William's hypocrisy rightly appalls us. While Georgiana must play by the rules, he believes he has the liberty to have his mistress live alongside his wife. He is arrogant, manipulative and cruel. But is Countess Spencer nevertheless right to insist that her daughter should go back to him, to do her duty? After all, Georgiana had committed herself to William: she had entered a marriage covenant with him. But William has broken this covenant already, and Georgiana would be perfectly justified in separating from him, even if divorce is impossible. However, when she does the same as her husband and has an affair, she sinks to the same moral level as him.

The Duke's power and women's low standing in law give him the trump card of being able to withhold her access to her children. He backs her into a corner with it, but by renouncing her affair, Georgiana becomes the one who does what is right. She returns to her marriage promise to 'forsake all others' for 'as long as they both shall live', even though he refuses to. Of course, her motivation is not to do the right thing for its own sake, but to be with her children and for them to be with her. But since families are supposed to be about children living with their parents, her motivation and her responsibility coincide.

We easily see this duty in negative terms, because we live in a society that stresses individual freedom and self-fulfilment above everything else. In our culture, promises - even marriage vows - are easily forgotten when a more exciting relationship beckons. But the traditional notion that a wife should be faithful to her husband is right. According to the Bible, it is more than mere convention, but rather a fundamental principle of morality that applies to both men and women at all times and in all places. Seen in this context, the problem with Georgian morality was not the constraint on women, but the belief of wealthy men that they were not subject to the same constraint. William had made the same promises at the altar, yet his concept of duty was so wrong-headed that he felt able to ignore those in favour of maintaining his family's status.

All this sounds quite alien in our culture, with its emphasis on freedom and rights. Everybody is quick to identify what life should be giving them and what they can get from other people, but slow to see what they should be giving and doing for others. Forgiving, reconciling and being faithful are extremely tough things to do, but our society would be very different if we all had a higher regard for such things and saw them as our personal responsibility.



This article was first published on Damaris' Culturewatch website (www.culturewatch.org) - used with permission.
© Copyright Tony Watkins (2008)