A Scandalous Life: The Biography of Jane Digby (Text only)

by Mary S. Lovell

  At Hamah, in the wide, fertile Orontes Valley, there was a pretty menzil (camping place) with bathing in a waterfall. Afterwards Jane toured the labyrinthine streets of the old town and went to see the famous and massive medieval norias, waterwheels which took water from the river and fed the orchards and gardens high above the town, creaking sonorously like tormented souls as they turned ceaselessly in the rushing waters. Later she went to the souk, where ‘I fancied I saw Medjuel in every Bedouin in a white abba’.25

  But Medjuel was not at Hamah; nor was he at Horns, where he told her his tribe always camped in the spring months. Jane began to fear a repeat of her experience with Saleh. As the caravan wound its way south towards Damascus they thought nothing of spending fourteen hours at a stretch in the saddle as they neared their destination, but though she suffered from saddle-soreness, as they all did, Jane was extremely fit and strong. Indeed, she could hardly remember a time when she had felt better.

  “Friday 19th May. Stopped at Khan el Arrouss. A lovely sparkling stream and I have heard that Medjuel is at Scham.’ She could not avoid suspecting that she was behaving foolishly. She constantly reminded herself that he was young enough to be her son, yet the more she thought of him the more she longed to see him. If he asked her again to marry him and was prepared to divorce Mascha, she was tempted to accept. But in any case she intended to build a house in Damascus. Having decided this all her doubts returned. ‘Oh what folly! Not to say worse … The day after tomorrow the journey is at an end, and the next phase of my life begins without Eugénie whom I delight to badger. I know not why.’

  Next day the party rose before dawn and set off on the final stage of their journey. After an hour a lone figure leading a riderless horse rode towards them. It was Medjuel bringing a horse for Jane. Thrilled at the compliment, Jane transferred to the fresh dancing Arabian and completed her adventure by riding dashingly into Damascus en cavalier (riding astride) like a desert princess approaching her kingdom. As they rode she told Medjuel of the highlights of her journey. He listened with interest and ‘his eyes spoke immense pleasure. Can he too be false?’ Her first thoughts were for a bath, and after she had rested Medjuel called again and proposed that they should ride together the following day. He still mentioned ‘not a word of love,’ she wrote in her diary, ‘although his eyes spoke it!’26

  It was while they were riding together that Medjuel first said the words Jane had been waiting to hear. He told her he loved her, and that he was prepared to divorce Mascha if Jane would agree to marry him. The following day while she was dressing in ‘fantasia’ to attend a celebration party at Barak’s house, Medjuel kissed her for the first time. She recorded it in code, ‘Received 1st kiss’,27 with far more emotion than she had noted the nights shared with Barak.

  Later, at Barak’s house, Barak caught her eye several times and she wondered again if she was doing the right thing. She had shared Barak’s life for five months and he was close to her own age. He had told her that he would marry her if she was willing. Yet she did not love Barak. And Medjuel: did she love him? She thought she did. Or was she being foolish yet again?

  During the night she reached a decision. She would travel at once to Athens to finalise her affairs there, and transfer her assets to Syria. In the changes that had taken place since she left Athens it was inevitable that her belongings would have suffered, but she would sell everything that remained and leave Eugénie settled comfortably. Then she would return to Syria, build a house in Damascus and, perhaps, become Medjuel’s wife. Her departure was arranged for the following day.

  ‘How unlooked for!!’ she reflected. ‘Medjuel, and Barak, both risked! But I go – allons. Du courage!’ Medjuel begged her to leave most of her luggage as a token that she would return and was clearly distressed that she might never come back. Jane knew she would miss him, but her doubts regarding his feelings later returned to worry her. ‘Does he love me?’ she anguished, writing in code, ‘or is money his desire?’ She had learned, the hard way, to be cautious about believing what men told her.

  Five days after returning from her epic journey to Baghdad she left Damascus for Beirut. Medjuel did not accompany her beyond the city, but Barak did and embraced her, saying he regretted losing her. He gave her, as a parting gift and memento of the Baghdad journey, a sabre of Damascus steel with silver and gold wire filigree, said to have once belonged to a Saracen warrior. ‘I left the sabre with him, and tears rose in my eyes at the wrenched link and my untimely journey.’ Three days later she arrived at Beirut and suffered the first inevitable consequence of her proposal to adopt another culture. The English consul made it obvious that he strongly disapproved of her behaviour, while her escort, Sheikh Sabt, was ‘kind and pleasant to all but me’. He obviously felt that Medjuel was making a mistake.28

  But the spirit that Jane had once described as ‘a rebel heart’ would not be crushed by disapproval. Within twenty-four hours she sailed for Greece, invigorated by her intention to sever her old life for good.

  14

  Honeymoon in Palmyra

  1854–1855

  Once again Edmond About narrowly missed seeing ‘Ianthe’ when he called to see his friend the Duchesse de Plaisance in the spring of 1854 while he put the finishing touches to his book La Grèce contemporaine. It was now a year since Jane had left Athens after the quarrel with Hadji-Petros, and though About had asked after her continuously during that time he heard no news of her. He was thrilled to hear from the duchess the latest chapter in the life of his lovely friend, which was all Jane left behind her in Athens.

  In a desert encampment Ianthe had seen a thoroughbred Arabian horse which exactly matched her requirements, the duchess said. It belonged to a handsome young sheikh who, when Jane offered to buy the magnificent creature, told her that it was unridable. ‘If the horse were able to be broken to ride,’ the sheikh told Ianthe, ‘it would be beyond price.’ But even as she stood, the sheikh said, he valued the animal above his three beautiful wives. Jane replied that, though a fine horse was to be treasured, three beautiful wives should not be disdained. She suggested that he sent the horse to her to see if she could ride it. Agreeing that ‘sometimes a woman succeeds where a man fails because she knows when to yield’, the sheikh had two of his Arabs lead the horse to Jane.

  She had been breaking and riding thoroughbred horses all her life, and, knowing her skill as an equestrienne, the duchess and About found no difficulty in believing that within a short period their friend had managed to persuade the horse to take a saddle and was able to ride her.

  When he saw her galloping the ‘unbreakable’ horse, the sheikh found Ianthe more exciting than his three wives put together. He said to her, ‘This animal is now priceless but since you were able to dominate her, but if you still want her it is not with your money that you will have to pay for her.’

  Ianthe, who had been admiring the sheikh, replied: ‘I will pay what you wish for the horse, I have not come such a great distance to haggle. But the women of my country are too proud to share a man’s heart; they only enter a tent on condition that they reign alone, and I will pay you for your horse only on condition that you dismiss your harem.’

  The sheikh said heatedly, ‘Men of my country take as many wives as they can afford to keep; if I dismiss my harem to live with one woman alone I will appear like a 1,200 franc clerk. Besides I must follow my religion, set an example to my people and respect the old ways.’

  … They discussed the matter for a long time before they reached an agreement, and at the present time Ianthe is the sole wife of the sheikh. She has a three year contract and when this expires the sheikh, if he so wishes, may take back his harem. The contract is renewable, but will it be renewed? I doubt it. Woman is a fruit that ripens quickly under the Syrian sun.

  The Duchesse soon got over Ianthe’s departure, having taken the precaution of quarrelling with her prior to her departure so as not to miss her.1

  The duchess died while the book was in the press
and never saw the published result of her gossipy chats with the writer. Undoubtedly she had heard the story from someone who knew both her and Jane, for though it is highly coloured some elements of the story are too close to fact to be mere coincidence. We know she did not hear it from Jane herself. A diary entry makes it clear they never met after Jane left Athens in the spring of 1853, for the old lady died in the spring of 1854, and Jane wrote of her, ‘How I regret not seeing her when I returned from Syria in 1853, and no longer having the portrait she gave me.’2

  Jane’s visit to Athens in June 1854 lasted three weeks while she ‘ran about town’ sorting out her financial affairs and leaving instructions for the shipment of her chattels. She did not see Hadji-Petros, for he was in the north with his Palikares. She was able to recover her jewellery, the most important piece being ‘the King’s bracelet’ with a miniature of King Ludwig painted on ivory set in a gold frame. Some items, such as the duchess’s portrait, were gone for ever, but Jane was never too concerned with material goods. At the end of June she sailed for Smyrna. With the exception of one short visit a few years later, Jane kicked the dust of Athens from her shoes and hardly looked back.

  Edmond About never saw Jane again. In a footnote to his book he wrote that she had announced her return for the winter of 1856. Meanwhile, he said, ‘Hadj-Petros has returned to Athens and is swaggering along the Palissia Road, younger and more adored than ever.’3

  It cannot be said that Jane’s new determination carried her through all the inevitable problems that arose. She had qualms about whether she was doing the right thing in casting herself adrift, yet further from her family. But her conclusion was that she had nothing to lose by starting a new life in Syria, and if the venture failed she would be in no worse a position than at present. Three concerns were uppermost in her mind: her worry that she might never again see her mother alive, the difficulties of making a new life without Eugénie’s help, and – primarily – Medjuel’s youth and his true feeling for her.

  She arrived in Damascus to find that the sheikh was still in the desert with his tribe. She sent a message to him and set about buying a site for a house. When Medjuel arrived a few weeks later it was to find Jane deeply involved in directing builders for the house which she had designed. Those who saw it described it as a small palace. Jane called it a villa, often admitting it was far too large, but it is true that apart from the emir’s and pasha’s palaces this first house of Jane’s was widely considered to be the most important in Damascus. Medjuel was exhausted and ill after his time in the desert, a situation which was to repeat itself in the future, but he was young and strong and Jane nursed him to health. As soon as he could ride he set off again to find his brother Mohammed, to ask permission to divorce Mascha so that he could marry Jane on her terms.

  In October Jane moved into her house, or at least the part that was habitable. At her urgent entreaty Eugénie agreed to come out in December to assist in getting the house in order, and this relieved her mind a great deal. But as weeks passed she heard nothing from Medjuel, and by mid-November Jane was in a state of constant anxiety that he might have been killed, or alternatively that he had realised he did not love her and had simply decided to stay away.

  Barak questioned travellers coming in from the desert and told Jane she must not look for Medjuel to return until mid-December. This satisfied her, and she set about making a home as comfortable as any she ever created. As usual no detail was too small for Jane’s attention; every piece of carved ‘festooning’ in wood or stone was designed by herself. She spent hours compiling lists of furniture and other fittings which were commissioned from Paris and London. Among these were gifts for Medjuel, to be purchased by her mother and sent out care of the consul.

  Each day she rode on the pretty Arab mare given her by Medjuel to visit friends. One day she might call on ‘Madame Barak’, who despite not being a Christian was morally ‘far superior’ to herself, Jane wrote candidly (recalling her sexual encounters with the lady’s husband). On another day she would ride to Salhiyeh, where she had had her wonderful first sight of Damascus, and where her new friends the Reis Pasha and his wives lived. Jane was very friendly with the pasha’s oldest wife, who had ‘a kind and ladylike manner’ and who told her many things about the role of a Muslim wife.4

  Wednesday November 22nd: Dear kind Barak brought me the news that Sheikh Medjuel has not forgotten me. That he rides around the desert like a Medjnoun [madman], and only thinks of how he can get to Scham and me!!! But that his brother Mohammed insists on coming and seeing me first, before he gives his consent to our marriage … And poor Barak, shall I not miss his society, my expeditions with him to Bagdad?

  Persia, Egypt, Paris? Are not these, and my liberty, in fact, more necessary to me in the long run than marriage and home?

  My house is getting on, and my garden. I am only afraid of becoming too taken up with it. Without children to enjoy it why should I spend money in aggrandising it … at my time of life, 47?5

  Despite her anxiety she went on throwing her considerable energies into the house and garden. The garden would become a showpiece in Damascus because she cleverly combined all that was best of a cool eastern courtyard and an English country garden. She was able to buy roses locally and often went off on her horse with her Spanish gardener, Francisco, on ‘plant hunting’ expeditions. Small palms and flowering shrubs that had self-seeded on the roadsides outside the city, and clumps of wild flowers – all were carefully lifted and transplanted to her huge garden. She wrote to Messrs Carters Fine Seeds in England ordering seeds and plants, the latter with meticulous packing instructions, but these would not arrive until the spring. Meanwhile the post brought news from Eugénie: ‘The cholera [at Beirut] prevents her coming, and she is in a bad humour.’6

  Jane wrote to her mother, but on her own admission ‘had not the courage to write to Steely’ and tell her of her contemplated marriage to a bedouin. The weeks dragged on. Barak had gone at Jane’s request to find Medjuel but she had heard nothing yet. The builders, the garden, riding and visiting helped to take her mind off her increasing concern. Her chimney caught fire and deprived her of the one really comfortable room in the house and she began to feel nostalgic for the time a year earlier when she had been on her exciting journey to Baghdad. Had she not been in Damascus overseeing the building project, she grumbled to her diary, she might have been travelling, seeing new places.

  Each night she hoped that the next day Medjuel would arrive. But even as she wrote of her dreams she agonised at the potential folly of marrying a man so much younger: ‘Oh, if I were but seventeen years younger. It is madness … he can be no more than thirty!’7

  Thursday 8th February. My evening passed more than usually sad … I went to bed but not to rest. At about one in the morning came a loud knocking at the door. A horse, and Barak’s well-known voice. Oh, these are moments in a life, worth a life in themselves!

  I started to my feet; Barak came in and in hurried accents greeted me with ‘He comes! He comes here like a mad one. He became so weak that Mohammed was pleased [to allow it].’

  In a few hours he arrived. Neither of us spoke much, as he was evidently suffering from fatigue and latent fever.

  Medjuel’s few words and his tender attitude towards her told her all she needed to know. From that moment, she wrote, all of her days were ‘of gold, and filled with joy’. She recalled that on the return journey from Palmyra when she had fancied herself in love with the cold-blooded Saleh she had made a wish ‘to be once sincerely and ardently loved by a Bedouin’. And now, it seemed, her wish was about to be realised. With the single exception of Medjuel’s age, he was everything she wished for, and, though they had so far not enjoyed any physical relationship, she believed him to be truthful in his declarations of love. His brother was opposed to their marriage; it was unheard of for a bedouin sheikh to marry a Christian – and a Ferengi woman at that – who wished to impose the terms of monogamy. But her faith in Medjuel was justified
when he declared that he intended to marry her no matter what his brother said. At last, a man who was prepared to defy convention and family disapproval for her! The major problem was Mascha. He could not in honour divorce her without Mohammed’s approval, though it was what he, Medjuel, desired for Jane’s sake.

  Jane began to make inquiries about a marriage ceremony and ran immediately into problems. The consul, Richard Wood, put every obstacle he could think of in Jane’s way in the hope that she would recognise the impossibility of such a marriage, suggesting that British protection might be invalid if she married Medjuel. With her background she would never be able to merge into the role of a bedouin wife, he pointed out, even the wife of an important sheikh. And if the marriage failed? Divorce in the East was for a man only, he said; a woman could be thrown aside like a chattel.8

  But the consul had no more success on this occasion than when he attempted to dissuade Jane from going to Palmyra. For every argument she had a counter-argument. It was not her intention, she said, to live always as a bedouin wife; she would live in her own house in Damascus most of the year. However, she would naturally expect to accompany her husband for part of the year when he travelled with his tribe. She had already proved to her own satisfaction that she could live in such a manner for up to five months at a time. When he saw that his words had no effect on her, Wood played his trump card. He went to see the pasha, whose permission was essential to Medjuel. If Medjuel disobeyed, the pasha’s retribution would fall on the entire tribe. ‘Difficulty on difficulty succeed each other … a letter from the Consul communicating the course the Pasha has taken on the subject … I felt ill and uncomfortable. Dear Medjuel consoles me with his love, and bears it all with the patience of an angel.’