Lord Ellenborough,
Connaught Place
Roehampton,
Saturday night
Dearest Edward,
Forgive me if I do wrong in writing to you, a note just received from Lady Anson seems to imply that you have expected it. I had begun a letter to you this morning, thanking you from the bottom of my soul for your unbounded kindness in act and manner – it was far more than I deserved, and I am deeply grateful.
I again renew all the assurances I gave you last night, that in act I am innocent. I hardly know what or how to write to you; I daren’t use the language of affection, you would think it hypocrisy, but though my family naturally wish all should be again as it once was between us, those feelings of honour which I still retain towards you, make me still acquiesce in your decision. I continue to think it just and right
I have not been able to speak to them on the subject I confessed to you last night; I have spoken little today but have never for an instant swerved from my own original opinion. I write this to YOU, if it is possible for you to keep what I have said from them, do, as they would only set it down as another proof of unkindness on my part.
Could you write me a line through Henry; were it only to tell me your opinion, be assured I should think it right. But Oh! Edward, dear Edward! ought not time, solitude, and change of scene to be tried by me, to conquer or obliterate sentiments so inimical to our mutual peace? Pray write to me, tell me all you think upon the subject, all you wish me to do. I shall now answer you candidly, and without a shade of deception.
God bless you, dearest Edward,
Janet
If my Aunt has misunderstood any expression and you did not expect or wish to hear from me personally, forgive me, for although I longed to tell you how gratefully I feel towards you yet I confess I should never have ventured to write. Ever Yours. J.
Were it not for two short declarations, ‘that in act I am innocent’ and ‘my family … would only set it down as another proof of unkindness on my part’, this would be a straightforward letter. Yet she could hardly profess to be innocent in act without lying. And surely the act of infidelity merited a word stronger than merely ‘unkind’? Not that it made a scrap of difference; the extent of her relationship with Schwarzenberg could not be concealed for much longer.
On Sunday, 24 May, Miss Margaret Steele received a hand-delivered message from Lady Anson. It asked her to go immediately to Elm Grove, where Lady Andover and Lady Ellenborough were in need of support. Steely was living with her sister and a friend in Stanhope Terrace in London’s Regent’s Park, so it took her only a few hours to arrange a chaise and travel to the Ellenboroughs’ house at Roehampton. There, in place of the normally relaxed household presided over by Jane, she found a strained atmosphere.6 In residence, as well as Jane and her mother, was Henry Law – Edward’s brother – whom Jane disliked at the best of times and who now wore a face of self-righteous gloom.
It took only a short time for Steely to discover the reason her presence had been requested and the news came as a thunderclap to her, for despite her reservations about Jane’s companions she was under the impression, as she was shortly to state under oath, that the Ellenboroughs had always lived together ‘most happily’. Jane was tearful but obstinately determined, ultimately, to join Schwarzenberg. Lady Andover was distraught but equally determined that her daughter should not leave the country. For a week the unhappy quartet shared Elm Grove, during which time arrangements were made for Steely to take Jane to the West Country. There they were to join Jane’s brother Edward, by now a twenty-year-old subaltern in a cavalry regiment, in a rented cottage at Ilfracombe. Jane’s parents must have hoped that a holiday in rural surroundings, miles from any social diversions, would bring Jane to her senses. At the very least it might stay the gossip which was already on everyone’s lips, and faithfully recorded within forty-eight hours by Mrs Arbuthnot, close companion of the Duke of Wellington and a frequent guest of the Ellenboroughs:
There has been an explosion at last in the house of Lord Ellenborough. He has found out all or at least a part of the improprieties of her conduct. Her lover, Prince Schwarzenberg, is gone back to Austria &, at just the same time, Lord Ellenborough took her to her father & refused to live with her any longer. She has been boasting of her own infamy & ridiculing Lord Ellenborough’s blindness; but now she protests that, however foolish and indiscreet she may have been, she is not a criminal. I understand she has gone down to Roehampton where he has allowed her to be for the present. What will be the end of it I do not know.7
Jane and her companions remained at Ilfracombe for a month during which Miss Steele wrote at Jane’s request to Lord Ellenborough, asking once again for permission to take Jane abroad for a period of reflection. He replied in a kindly manner but refused. During this entire period Jane was somehow receiving letters from Felix at the rate of two a week and she was presumably responding.8 On 1 July the two women left Ilfracombe and travelled to Minterne, where Admiral Digby and Lady Andover arrived for a prearranged visit with Lord Digby.
Jane was then five months pregnant. Two days after arriving at Minterne her condition became apparent to the straitlaced Steely and, ‘much agitated’, she broached the subject. By then Jane was relieved to be able to discuss the matter that had been at the forefront of her mind for so long. Admitting her condition, she broke down and sobbed, ‘God knows what will become of me, for the child is not Lord Ellenborough’s but Prince Schwarzenberg’s.’ She then confessed the entire circumstances of her adulterous relationship, including the overnight stay in Brighton. When questioned about how she could be sure the child was not her husband’s, Jane admitted that they had not slept together for some time prior to her becoming pregnant.9 Only a few weeks earlier, Steely had remarked to Jane that her sleep was troubled and that she spoke in her sleep. On that occasion Jane had answered lightly that Edward said the same thing to her. From this Steely had supposed that they slept together, but Jane subsequently explained that they had two beds in the same room.
Miss Steele was not only a spinster but, according to Jane, a ‘gloomily severe’ Christian. Nothing could have prepared for her such news from her former pupil. She had hardly started to gather her thoughts together before Jane, who had recovered her composure and did not wish her plans to be thwarted, was beseeching her not to divulge what she had been told to Lord Ellenborough, her parents or her aunts. Steely reluctantly agreed not to do so without Jane’s permission. However, before the month was out Jane consented to share the appalling secret with Lady Anson.
Meanwhile Edward, acting on the strong recommendation of his brothers and cousin, had contacted a solicitor and produced certain papers alleging infidelity by his wife, including the letter from Hepple. The solicitor felt initially that, though damaging, there was insufficient evidence to warrant an investigation. Who would take the word of a hotel waiter against that of a peeress? However, some weeks later in early July, Ellenborough’s cousin again contacted the solicitor and suggested that he begin private investigations into Lady Ellenborough’s behaviour during the past twelve months, starting at number 11 Holles Street where Prince Schwarzenberg had most recently lived until his precipitate departure for Europe.
Within a short time all was discovered. A routine call at the Holles Street address led the detective inevitably to the prince’s former address in Harley Street and the many eye-witnesses to Jane’s indiscreet conduct. Next he visited Robert Hepple and William Walton, both of whom had been dismissed from the Norfolk Hotel for their part in the affair. Their testimony, however, led first to the post-boy who had driven the prince to Brighton, and then to the hirer of the yellow chariot. In attempting to make Jane’s groom betray his employer, the solicitor hit his first difficulty. The boy was as uncooperative as could be without telling any untruths, and gave evidence as near to ‘no comment’ as he could manage. There was no mistaking where his sympathies lay.
It made no difference, of course. Ellenborough �
��appeared to be amazed’ at the evidence, according to his legal advisers. Surprisingly – or perhaps not so, bearing in mind his behaviour towards his wife – Ellenborough’s diary entries at this date betray no personal emotions, minutely detailing instead the daily meetings and committees and conversations at formal dinners that he attended. His manner was not one of outrage: indeed he made it clear to his legal advisers and Jane’s family that his wife was always to be treated with all the courtesies to which her rank entitled her. He arranged for a generous allowance to be paid to her, and, though he asked for the return of heirloom items, he insisted that she keep the magnificent jewellery which he had given her during their marriage. His generosity prompted Jane to write dispiritedly:
My dearest Edward,
I hope you will believe me when I say that I feel myself utterly unequal to writing to you today. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness but entreat you will not think of making me such an allowance. Indeed it is more than I can possibly want. I will send back the green box tomorrow.
Ever, ever yours,
Janet10
In a letter written from his father’s palace, Frauenhof, near Vienna, Felix advised Jane to leave England as quickly as possible for the address in Basle which he had indicated in a previous letter, where she would be cared for during her confinement. He instructed her not to come to him, as he suspected (incorrectly) that all his movements were being watched by agents of Lord Ellenborough. He bitterly regretted the position she had lost because of their affair, and the more so, he said, because it would be impossible for the sake of his future, as well as hers, that they should ever marry. Nevertheless, he swore, he loved her, and his life would be devoted to her happiness and that of their child.11
Soon after receiving this letter Jane left England in the face of all entreaties from her distraught mother to remain. She could not bear to be separated from Felix and believed that he would find some way of joining her if she went, as he advised, to Basle. Her father told her that if she went ahead with this plan Ellenborough would have no option but to divorce her. Her reputation, he said, though damaged, might yet be partly restored if she were to remain in England and lead an exemplary life. Furthermore, it was not impossible that Ellenborough might be persuaded to reconsider; no man in his position would wish to be involved in a divorce. Gossip about the affair was confined to her own class and, after a time, would be overlooked if not forgotten. But the inevitable consequences, if she ran away now, were that she would never be permitted to resume her place in society. Nor could she depend upon marriage to the prince; his Catholic faith precluded it. What she was contemplating was lifelong exile from her country and her family, and total disgrace.
For anyone but Jane, with her entire family pleading for her to give Felix up and remain in England under their protection, there would surely have been some wavering of resolve at this point. She adored her parents and her brothers, and the feeling was reciprocated, as letters and diaries would show. But her love for Felix was transcendent. His frequent letters to her, swearing eternal devotion if not promising marriage, bolstered her insistence that there was no future happiness for her without him. She must join him whatever the cost.
Edward Digby accompanied Jane and Steely to the east coast, where they took the packet ferry to the Continent. Steely travelled as far as Brussels and then returned home. Jane continued on with her maid to Basle, where she assumed the name of Madame Einberg at the accommodation arranged by Felix. By then she was six months pregnant.
Rumours had already started to swirl in London, and the ripples quickly spread outward to Jane’s greater family in Norfolk.12 With the open intelligence that Jane had fled to Europe to have Schwarzenberg’s child, Ellenborough’s original plan of a formal separation was dropped in favour of his seeking a legal divorce. This was the man who had once alienated the King by expressing disapproval when George IV attempted to divorce Caroline of Brunswick. He was also, and remained long afterwards, a friend of Jane’s father. The two men met and reached an amicable agreement; obviously they decided to make the best of a bad business.
News of Ellenborough’s intention to seek a divorce spread like a bushfire. Some tried to excuse Jane – ‘but think of being very pretty and very young and just finding oneself married to such a monster of odiousness as Lord Ellenborough, and then discovering that he wanted the only quality for which women ever forgive monsters’.13 These allusions to Ellenborough’s lack of sexual ability, or alternatively his extreme licentiousness, were common, and summed up by one correspondent: ‘Ellenborough’s divorce is going on – so we shall soon know, I hope, whether he is as Lady Holland says, impotent, or as others say given to bad women and blessed with a family of natural children.’14
Meanwhile, Jane was quite alone in Basle apart from her servants. Contrary to legend, her family did not abandon her but stayed in constant touch by letter. There is a report that her husband visited her, and indeed Ellenborough made a visit of several weeks to the Continent in early September 1829.15 There is no way of verifying this rumour, for such a visit would have been the subject of greatest secrecy to avoid any accusations of collusion between the divorcing parties. However, in view of what followed it is more than likely that Ellenborough visited Jane to ensure that she fully realised how the mechanism of divorce worked.
By now Admiral Digby had realised that there was no hope of a reconciliation. Jane wanted the divorce as much as Ellenborough; she could not bear the thought of being married to any man but Felix. Therefore she agreed not to offer any defence. A few weeks later she received another visitor, a Mr Wigram, who presented her with a ‘Copy of a Bill for the Divorce to be Heard in the House of Lords’. She instructed him to refer the matter to her solicitor in England.
As the last stages of her pregnancy, coupled with the winter weather, confined her to her apartment, Jane felt increasingly lonely, bored and desperate. If only Felix would come to her, everything would be well. But her only relief from the continuous misery lay in the regular letters from Austria, promising that he would try to be with her in time for the birth of the child. It was not until 10 November, more than two months after her arrival in Basle, that Felix managed to visit Jane en route to his new appointment at the Austrian embassy in Paris. She had longed for this moment for months, but she was soon to suspect that his former feelings had undergone a subtle change, doubtless influenced by his family.
Their daughter was born two days later – nine months and one week after the fateful night spent in the Brighton hotel.16 They called the baby Mathilde (after Felix’s favourite sister), which was shortened to ‘Didi’. Seeing Jane’s distress when the time came for him to leave five days later, Felix promised to visit again within weeks and this time kept his promise, for he spent a further few days in December with Jane and his daughter. During this visit he promised to make arrangements for her to join him in Paris as soon as she and the child were well enough to travel.
Four weeks later tragedy struck the house of Ellenborough. Little Arthur Dudley Law, just a month short of his second birthday, had again been ill with a childish infection, and Ellenborough had sent him in the care of his nurse, Mrs Mowcock, to the seaside in the belief that the fresh air would help alleviate the symptoms. All seemed to be under control on 27 January:
My Lord,
Master Arthur is in very good spirits but his tonsils have been very [troublesome]… Mr March has been to see him today and says it is his teeth and he will bleed him tomorrow to correct it. He will be all the better for it but is much fawling [sic] away. The weather is so very wet so he could not go out today.17
The next letter, from Mr March himself, only two days later, must therefore have come as a shocking blow. Ellenborough noted on the envelope that he received it as he returned home from a Cabinet meeting:
Worthing 29th January 1830
My dear Lord,
I am distressed beyond description to be compelled to relate the melancholy fact that your dear
infant has ceased to exist. He was attacked this morning by a convulsive fit which caused his extinction in a few minutes. Everything was done judiciously by the nursery assistant who was on the spot instantly but so violent was the attack that all was over before I could get to him.
He passed a tolerably quiet night till about 5… up to the time of the fit which seems to have been immediately caused by some accidental noises, there was no reason to consider the child in the slightest danger as everything was going well.18
It was distressing news for all concerned, the Digby grandparents as well as the father. The black-edged mourning letters expressing shock and grief, as well as concern for Ellenborough, carefully folded back into their original envelopes, still exist in a pathetic stack neatly tied with deep-purple ribbon among Lord Ellenborough’s papers.19
It might be assumed, because of the history of the marriage and the fact that the child had spent a lot of his time away from his parents, that his death was of no great moment to them. But Ellenborough, whose ambitions for his son now lay in ruins, mourned him with genuine grief. Like Jane he found consolation in writing poetry throughout his life, and on this occasion wrote:
Poor child! Thy mother never smiled on thee
Nor stayed to soothe thee in thy suffering day!
But thou wert all the world to me,
The solace of my solitary way.
Despite any bitterness he might have felt towards Jane, Ellenborough wrote to her, as always in a kindly manner, to break the news and thoughtfully enclose a lock of Arthur’s soft, fair hair. A messenger delivered the letter to her personally, under Ellenborough’s seal. She kept it with her, through all her travels, until her death.
A Scandalous Life: The Biography of Jane Digby (Text only) Page 8