Nothing will ever persuade me that he regrets the steps he took. Be assured that it is a matter of rejoicing with him that his fate was never linked with yours. Self is his first idol. You would have marred his ambition, had you even devoted your entire life to him, and such a conviction would have estranged his heart in no lengthened space of time.54
By the time Jane left Paris – which, she told Ludwig, she did gladly, for she now heartily disliked the city – she had made a decision to marry Charles, provided the appropriate dispensations to satisfy German law were forthcoming. Yet even then she insisted on giving Felix a further opportunity to return to her by advising him that she intended to marry Venningen if he did not want her. It seems inconceivable that she still was not convinced that Felix had written her off. But when she received no reply Jane found herself committed to marrying Charles simply because she liked him and was grateful to him.
She did not return to Munich from Paris but rented a house at Heilbronn, ‘a stupid place’, she wrote to Ludwig. She had chosen it for two reasons: it was close to where Charles was living at Schloss Grombach; and it was ‘on the high road towards Felix, if I am ever to see him again’. Felix was now ‘permanently at Berlin. His ambition seems at length on the eve of being gratified.’ It was for this ambition, Felix had written Jane, that he had ‘sacrificed’ his relationship with her, though ‘I doubt his being happy,’ she noted miserably; ‘at least his letters prove the contrary.’55
As the summer passed, Jane felt herself being sucked inexorably into a marriage of convenience with Charles. There was gentle pressure from her parents, who regarded the Venningen connection as a lifeline towards the restoration of Jane’s social status, loving pressure from Charles, who wanted to make a home for her and his son, and now, apparently, royal pressure from Ludwig, who signified that though he longed to see her he thought it best that she should first ‘positively settle and decide’ about marriage to the baron.56
Jane’s reservations about marriage without passionate love were many. However, she reasoned, she could never again expect to love as she loved Felix, and Felix seemed lost to her for ever. She had many correspondents in the courts of Europe and from them she knew that the prince had enjoyed several serious liaisons. The most serious, which dated from his time in Paris, was with Madame la Vaudeuil, whom he had installed as his mistress in Berlin where he had recently been appointed Imperial Ambassador.57 While Jane was still agonising over him, Schwarzenberg visited London where a mutually advantageous interview with Lord Palmerston took place.58 The prince’s role as co-respondent in the sensational Ellenborough divorce, legally proven only two years earlier, was already forgotten. Henceforward he would always be a welcome visitor in top political circles in England. But Jane remained permanently persona non grata.59
At present, as she well knew, gossip linked Felix with another woman, a Countess Zappani, at the spa town where the prince was staying after his trip to England. Yet, despite knowledge of his latest affair, and everything that had happened during the past years, she found it impossible to give up her dream of marriage to him – even though she knew the baron’s ‘real worth’, was confident in his love for her, and had a high regard for him. Indeed, she admitted to Ludwig that ‘few women have before them a better chance of happiness in marriage than myself, if I can once summon the courage to take the great resolution.’60 Nevertheless there was always at the back of her mind a hope that Felix would send for her. And at every stage on the road of her marriage to Charles she was always prepared to run to Felix had he given the slightest indication that he would welcome her back.
8
Ianthe’s Secret
1833–1835
Because of Ludwig’s personal intervention, the Grand Duke of Hesse-Darmstadt (Ludwig’s cousin and overlord of the Venningens) agreed to overlook Jane’s unusual marital status and allow her marriage to Charles to go forward without delay.1 It is clear that Felix, with his own important connections, might have engineered a similar solution had he ever desired to do so.
For over two years the prince had written regularly to Jane, keeping her hopes alive with declarations of love and his casual acceptance that she was bound to him. It is worth recalling that his reason for abandoning Jane and their daughter in Paris was Jane’s so-called unfaithfulness with Monsieur Labuteau. This story of Jane’s infidelity had been assiduously spread about by members of Felix’s family in Paris and Vienna, and several contemporary diarists, including Count Apponyi, reported it, apparently believing it to be true. Undoubtedly the very source of the rumour gave it credence.
But Jane had always maintained she was innocent of the charge and now, with every right to protect the honour of the woman to whom he was betrothed, Charles took action. He wrote to Felix challenging him to a duel unless he formally denied the stories. Some weeks earlier Jane had written to Felix informing him of her forthcoming marriage and hinting strongly that even at this eleventh hour she would drop all her plans for him. Felix’s reply to Charles served as a reply to both letters. He completely denied ever having suspected Jane of unfaithfulness; they had parted, he said, merely because their ‘tempers were incompatible’. He sent his good wishes for their marriage.2
This response might have infuriated Jane, but such anger as she felt was tinged with bitterness and misery, revealed in a note to Ludwig which commented: ‘Felix Schwarzenberg seems to have succeeded in his mission; his ambition is now gratified and he is free from me! He has written a letter to the Baron at which I am surprised, but it only shows what conscience and injustice can force from a man at last.’3 Her frequent letters to the King at this time plainly reveal her hesitancy and her unease with regard to marrying Charles, feeling that ‘marriage is an awful engagement’ without passionate commitment between two people. However, she could not ignore or deny Charles’s steady devotion to her (nor, of course, the child they had created), and Ludwig assured her that it was possible to be contentedly married without the intense and delirious love that she (and apparently he) had experienced outside marriage. Furthermore, her family were pleased at the news. Her father (who despite his love for her had not really forgiven her for divorcing Ellenborough and causing the family so much obloquy) had come over from England for the ceremony, signalling his reconciliation, and bearing a document stating that her previous marriage had been annulled. This cleared the path for Jane’s Catholic marriage to Charles.
Yet she could not rid herself of her qualms. She had been obsessed with Felix Schwarzenberg for five years, though they had lived together happily for only a year during that time. Now, against her better judgement, she was drifting into marriage with Charles. There was no doubting her good intention to ‘make Charles a good wife’, and when at last she made the final decision, as she wrote to the King, it cost her much pain: ‘but I felt it was not honourable to trespass longer on the Baron’s patience and affection.’4
Somewhat surprisingly, in view of his earlier antagonism towards her relationship with the baron, Ludwig now indicated his approval of the marriage by conferring upon the bridegroom the honorary office of chamberlain.5 This thoughtful compliment ensured the couple’s active participation in court life, ending at a stroke the social ostracism Jane had endured for several years.
The baron was gratified at the bestowal of the honour, for though, as he wrote, he brought with him ‘the wealth of five seignorial and nobleman’s [sic] rights in the Rhineland-Palatinate … I really am in the greatest embarrassment over the numerous nuisances I have caused Your Majesty in the past.’ In particular he was concerned about an unspecified incident involving Jane at Nymphenburg Palace which he believed had severely displeased the King.6 In fact the King was puzzled as to what Charles referred to and asked Jane for clarification. In her uninformative reply Jane thanked Ludwig prettily for the honour which would be the means of her appearing at court, recalling that they had ‘often spoken of this’ in the past. ‘One fear, however, remains in my mind,’ she said, ‘and tha
t is how I shall be received by society. Not that I care for myself, but I dread the Baron’s mortification if he finds I am looked down upon … which I suspect notwithstanding.’7
In a letter dated 3 November, written from The Hague, Jane received a final note from Felix. Expressing with cold formality his approval of Jane’s engagement he stated that he was returning all her presents with the exception of a sketch of Didi, which he asked to be allowed to keep. He undertook to destroy all her letters to him, every one of which, he said, he had kept near him. Jane had kept his too; indeed, she still had all 200 of them in her possession when she died, almost fifty years later.8
Jane and Charles were married by the Bishop of Rothenburg, in the prescribed triple wedding ceremonies that satisfied civic and ecclesiastic conventions, on 16 November 1833 at Darmstadt in the Rhine Valley where the Venningen family owned several estates. Admiral Digby was a witness at the Protestant marriage service and at the civil ceremony later in the day. A Catholic service was held a few days later. His daughter was twenty-six years old, looked younger, and was even more ravishingly lovely than the virginal seventeen-year-old he had given away almost a decade earlier. He must have been only too aware that the bride was capable of changing her mind at the last minute and disappearing. It can only have been a great relief to Admiral Digby to know that Jane was safely married to a good man who clearly worshipped her and could provide her with a lifestyle not too dissimilar to that which she had so precipitately tossed aside. Conversely, Charles’s widowed mother made no secret of the fact that she opposed the match, and withheld her approval.
On the eve of the first marriage ceremony Jane wrote to the King, telling him that, although she was reconciled to the marriage,
many, many subjects upon which I can speak with you alone are still in my heart. My best and Dearest Friend, what I am now, what my resolutions now are, is your work. Without you I should have been inevitably lost … Never shall I forget you, and let me, Dearest Lewis, once more say, perhaps for the last time before I am chained to another, that your noble, generous, conduct towards me on one occasion made a deeper, more indelible impression on my heart than a thousand triumphs of vanity or self love, and made you dearer than a thousand lovers. Would I could prove my devotion in deeds not words.9
Jane and the King had not met since Munich a year and a half earlier, and during that time the pair had written many letters to each other. Now they could hardly wait to see each other. ‘Your own Ianthe is quite wild with impatience,’ Jane wrote. If he would let her know when he planned to call on her she would ensure that everyone was sent away and she would be quite alone to receive him. ‘You cannot conceive the delight’, she finished, ‘with which I look forward to the bliss of seeing you once more!’10
Three weeks after their marriage Charles and Jane left their castle at Weinheim, about ten miles north-west of Heidelberg,11 and after a cold, slow journey arrived late on a December evening in Munich. Attached to a posy of violets Jane found a note from the King, suggesting that he call on her later. Her response was warm and immediate. ‘Dearest, dearest, how happy I shall be to see you!12 Basily and Ianthe picked up their relationship where they had left off, with frequent meetings and notes and posies of violets. They wrote of whom they had seen and of court gossip; they liaised with each other over which play or opera performance or whose ball they would attend, to be sure of seeing each other daily. When the Queen suddenly consented to receive Jane at court, Jane begged the King to meet her near the palace, ‘at Tambosi’s [coffee shop]… to which there is a quiet entrance by the arches’, to tell her what she should say and do.13
An Englishman acquainted with the Coke family, who visited the Bavarian court in February 1834, was intrigued to see the former Lady Ellenborough in an elevated and respected position there and he was in no doubt as to her present relationship with the King.
she has married a Bavarian Baron whose name I can neither remember nor pronounce. She is received at court and everywhere. The ladies of the Bavarian Almack’s know all about her pranks and say the poor child was sacrificed in marriage in London to an old, rich, ugly Lord. Her liaison with the King is never denied.14
It soon became an assumption that Jane’s marriage to the baron had been arranged for the convenience of King Ludwig; indeed, this quickly came to be the accepted view in England.15
Jane had lost her earlier unquestioning delight in the haut ton; no doubt it had been a lesson well learned. But she loved dancing and there were balls several times a week; she enjoyed meeting new people, especially anyone who travelled or painted, and she was a popular hostess who entertained elegantly. Apart from her daily rides upon her spirited thoroughbred, aptly named Mazeppa after a favourite poem by Byron,16 and frequent meetings with the King, she enjoyed to the full all available social diversions such as the opera and theatre. her letters confirm that she was still painting: ‘I send you this drawing and I am only sorry it is not better worthy of your acceptance,’ she wrote to Ludwig. And there is a hint that their relationship had assumed, outwardly at least, a more discreet appearance: ‘Take care not to increase your cold for if you are confined to the house, could I again come to see you as in former days? I fear you would answer, “No, Ianthe”.’17
In April 1834 she sought his advice on how to handle the tricky matter of ‘my sweet-tempered mother-in-law’, who had invited Jane to her ancient castle at Grombach in order, she assumed, to seek a rapprochement. Jane had no desire to leave the delights of Munich. Furthermore, she had met the dowager on previous occasions and found her aloof and formidable. But she had little option other than to accept the invitation, and though Charles was to accompany her Jane was genuinely apprehensive. The meeting was as difficult as she feared; ‘nothing could have been stiffer’, Jane reported to Ludwig from Grombach. Both her mother-in-law and sister-in-law, Mimi Waldkirk, tried ‘every possible means to estrange Charles and me’. In the same letter she also broke the news that she was again pregnant, but warned him to address his reply and future letters to ‘the Baroness Venningen née Jane Digby’ so that there could be no misunderstanding: ‘I would not have either of those cats should have the pretence of opening them.’18
From her own home at Weinheim, a month later, she wrote that
unless any alteration occurs I intend to be confined at Weinheim. Tell me, dear friend, if I may name it after you. It would be a great honour … to the Baron as to me if you would be Godfather, but if disagreeable to you for any other reason that may not occur to me at present, of course you will tell me with the frankness that has always reigned between us.19
The child Jane was bearing had been conceived in December 1833, shortly after her arrival in Munich. In asking to be allowed to name it after Ludwig, Jane was following in the footsteps of the Marchesa, whose son Ludovico, born in October 1821, was widely believed to be Ludwig’s child. Ludwig generously agreed to Jane’s request,20 though he must have known that it would give rise to the belief that her child was a royal bastard. Jane too was surely aware of this, as is clear from underlined hints in several letters that she would forbear to call the child after him if it threatened to embarrass him. However, she wrote confidently, in August, ‘as I shall be confined so far from Munich no gossip can arise on the subject … I shall hardly be confined before the beginning of September so there is plenty of time to let me know what you think.’21
Trapped once again by her own fertility, Jane found Weinheim picturesque, but dull. Local society was rather like Charles, likeable enough but lacking vitality. She longed for bright company and someone in whom to confide, she told Ludwig: ‘Munich is the place of all others I love best but I can say with truth that you, my best and really true friend, are the charm that attaches me to it in so strong and peculiar a manner.’22
Jane was left alone for several weeks when Charles made a secret journey to Palermo to see their son, now referred to by his parents by the German version of his name, Heribert. He wrote to Jane of his discomfit
ure during the steamer journey from Naples, when he suddenly came face to face with his English cousin Lady Granville, and could think of no reason to give for his journey. However, little Heribert was well, Charles reported, and he was looking forward to the time when they might bring him home to Weinheim.
Jane’s fifth child, a girl she called Bertha, was born in September 1834. It is impossible to know for sure who Bertha’s father was but the childhood portrait in possession of the present-day Digby family bears no facial similarity to Charles Venningen, nor to the infant Heribert. Charles accepted the beautiful child as his, but the present-day Digbys suspect that the mental illness which descended upon Bertha in childhood, and which would confine her to an asylum before she was fully grown, was a Wittelsbach inheritance.23 Surviving correspondence between Jane and Ludwig provides no answer, but as their channels of communication were not confidential this is perhaps not surprising. Throughout their relationship, messages of a truly delicate nature were communicated by the word of mouth of their most trusted servants. ‘Do not fear, Emma will tell you more than I can write’ was a typical note.24
Charles would have denied Jane little, but he steadfastly refused to allow her to go to Munich after Bertha’s birth. Unfortunately this was the very thing that Jane wanted above anything; indeed, Charles’s promises to her that she might have an establishment in Munich after their marriage had been one of the deciding factors in her decision to marry him.25 The reason may have been simply that Charles could not spare the time to accompany Jane to Munich. During his eighteen months’ courtship he had completely neglected his estates and given up what he described as ‘a promising future’ to follow her to Italy.26 But it is more likely that he was jealous of her intimacy with the King, for, despite the fact that they were generally happy together, Jane and Charles bickered constantly on this subject. And without ever suggesting infidelity he accused her of behaving more like a giddy débutante than a married woman approaching middle age (she was twenty-seven) and mother of two young children.
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