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

by Mary S. Lovell

  So much was new and exciting to Isabel Burton that she was wide-eyed with enjoyment, as indeed Jane had been in her first months in Syria. But things had already started to go wrong for the Burtons, as a long letter from Jane to Isabel warning of the undercurrents of power within the city confirms. Jane had called the previous day at the house of a leading citizen. To her dismay she heard some fellow visitors, men known to her as usurers, boasting that they had arranged for Burton to be recalled and Richard Rogers reinstated as consul because he was happy to turn a blind eye to underhand dealings in return for a consideration.

  You know that Sheikh Mohammed ebn Dukhi and Faris el Meziad openly say in the desert to those who ask them ‘that they only owed having won the camel law suit I had with them, to the considerable sum they gave Mr Rogers, after he told me that I had won it; and this affair – as you know – involved the loss of my British Protection which is such a serious misfortune in this country …

  Yours most affectionately,

  Jane Digby el Mezrab16

  In December, Medjuel fell seriously ill with an inflammation of the liver. He was almost two months in bed, nursed continuously by Jane. His anxiety over the tribe’s property stolen by the Wuld Ali made him fretful, and he was still convalescent when, at Richard Burton’s suggestion, Jane convened a council of war at their home on 4 February 1871 because Medjuel was still too weak to travel to the desert.

  There had been a fight, and ebn Dukhi had robbed the Mezrabs of camels, horses and everything. Captain Burton wanted, if possible, to obtain a part restoration, but ebn Dukhi was too slippery, and though everything was promised nothing was done. One point of honour, however, was religiously kept. When the time came to eat bread and salt together, he sprang into his saddle and rode away. By that we knew he did not mean friendship with the Mezrabs.17

  Burton tried again to bring about a pact, but was told by ebn Dukhi that he was supported in his activities by the Turkish authorities. ‘This was surely impolitic on the part of the authorities … for ebn Dukhi owed them no allegiance while the Mezrabs had been faithful allies,’ said Isabel loyally standing by Jane.

  The Mezrabs were offered £10,000 to allow a certain renegade, O’Reilly, who called himself Hassan Beg, free passage in order to raise the Desert against the Turkish Government. The Mezrabs returned the blank cheque, and gave the Government warning, and Hassan Beg and his followers were captured.18

  In March of that year two English visitors called at the consulate and Isabel took them to see Jane. Lord Stafford and Mr Barty Mitford, later Lord Redesdale, were duly introduced and from the latter there is a vignette of Jane. Mitford had heard of the infamous Lady Ellenborough. Indeed, he wrote,

  so many stories had been told about her and her strange life as the wife of an Arab chief, that I expected to see a grand and commanding figure like the Lady Hester Stanhope of Eothen and Lamartine; an imposing personage, mystic, wonderful, half queen, half sybil; Semiramis and Meg Merrilies rolled into one, ruling by the force of the eye, a horde of ignoble, ragged dependants, trembling but voracious. No two people could be more unalike. I found Lady Ellenborough – Mrs Digby, as she now calls herself – living in a European house, furnished so far … as the rooms in which we were received were concerned, like those of an English lady; in the desert with the tribe she would be altogether Arab …

  The owner was like her belongings; a [reminder] of the palmy days of Almack’s; dressed in inconspicuous Paris fashion and very nice to look upon … she had the remainder of great good looks and the most beautiful and gracious old-world manners. She had been a great beauty, but in deference to the Arabs’ superstitious fear of the evil eye, her hair and eyebrows were dyed black …

  She asked after Lord Clanwilliam, grandfather of the present Earl. How was he? ‘Wonderful,’ I said, ‘cutting us all out skating at Highclere two or three months ago.’ Lady Ellenborough looked puzzled. ‘But why should he not?’ she asked. ‘Well!’ I answered. ‘You must remember that he is past seventy years of age.’ ‘Dear me!’ she replied. ‘Is it possible? That handsome young man!’ Her old friends remained in her mind just as she had known them – Lady Palmerston, Lady Jersey, Lady Londonderry – still reigning beauties, queens of Almack’s.

  It was strange to hear a delicately nurtured English lady talking of her life in the desert with ‘her’ tribe. She told us how, the summer before, a hostile tribe had raided them and stolen some of their mares, and how this next summer they must ride out to avenge the outrage and get back the lost treasures. There would be fierce fighting, she said, and she must be there to nurse the chief should anything happen to him. ‘In fact,’ she added, ‘we have one foot in the stirrup, for we must start for the desert tomorrow morning …’19

  Jane never explained why she dyed her hair black, though she had begun dyeing it when she found she was going grey, before she married Medjuel. However, even today, fair or blond hair is not welcomed among the bedouin, chiefly because it is regarded as so beautiful that it will attract bad luck.20 Mitford found Medjuel, who was still convalescent, disappointing and ordinary-looking. ‘Nevertheless, she seemed very fond and proud of him, and evidently in this wild nomadic life between the desert and Damascus, she had found a happy haven … after the adventures of her stormy youth.’21

  That year marked Jane’s sixty-fourth birthday. Isabel Burton wrote that she was still ‘beautiful … commanding and queen-like, a grande-dame to her fingertips as [though] she had just left the salons of London or Paris … she looked splendid in oriental dress, and if you saw her as a Moslem woman in a bazaar you would have said she was not more than thirty-four years of age.’22

  Several anecdotes concerning Jane during this period survive; they were recounted to E. M. Oddie in 1930. One visitor to the Mezrabs’ house was extremely impressed with the exquisite taste of the furnishings. Not realising her hostess was within earshot, she said aloud, ‘All this for a barbarian.’ ‘But he isn’t a barbarian really,’ Jane objected mildly behind her guest. ‘He’s just learning to use a knife and fork!’23

  The other story illustrates Medjuel’s sense of humour. Two missionaries, the Reverend Mott and the Reverend Parry, called on Jane. Mr Mott ran a mission in Beirut. Mr Parry had been the chaplain at Pisa; it was his assistant who was tutor to Leonidas at the time the child was killed, and Mr Parry had conducted the funeral. Now he was visiting Syria and was taken to visit Jane. As the men dismounted outside Jane’s house Mr Mott noticed a bedouin standing in the gateway and, speaking in Arabic, called him over, ordering him to look after the horses while they visited the Sitt.

  Mr Parry was extremely unhappy about this arrangement and, speaking in English, pointed out that they did not know who this Arab was, that the horses were valuable and the man might be a thief. Mott agreed it was perhaps not wise, but said it would appear discourteous to go back on his instruction. The two men called on Jane, and she and Mr Parry sat talking of Leonidas and mutual acquaintances in Italy. After a while an Arab came into the room and Jane introduced him to the men as her husband. To their consternation it was the Arab with whom they had left the horses. Speaking in English, Medjuel did not betray them, but smiled as he said: ‘Gentlemen, I have handed your horses over to one of my servants. I assure you they will be quite safe!’24

  In June 1871 Jane heard of her daughter-in-law’s death. Charles Venningen had been concerned about Gabrielle’s health ever since Heribert had married her. She had had three children, and her father-in-law had almost borne each one for the fragile girl. But her death was the result of an extraordinary accident: Gabrielle had slipped while walking downstairs carrying her knitting, and as she fell one of the knitting needles had pierced her spine. The sad news must have set Jane thinking about her own mortality, for on the following day, 15 June, she went to see Richard Burton about her will: ‘I went to the Consulate and signed my will in the presence of Captain Burton, and my good friends Mr Wright, and Mr Scott as witnesses.’

  In July the temperat
ure reached 170 degrees Fahrenheit, 105 degrees in the coolest shade. There was not a breath of air anywhere day or night, Isabel Burton wrote. The eyeballs seemed on fire, the tongue, throat and chest were parched, food or sleep was impossible. A pan of water set out in the sun was hot enough to boil an egg within a short time.25 The Burtons went to Bludan in the mountains to escape the worst of it. Jane missed her friend but she had many things to occupy her mind: calling upon officials to try to obtain justice for the tribe over the Mohammed ebn Dukhi affair; the repurchase of some of the land she had sold with her large villa and ‘the prettiest part of my old garden including the Sheikh’s fountain. We began making a separating wall between our garden and the rest. The heat is intense just now, but we are well thank God. I am much, much too, occupied with my garden, building and improvements.’

  Isabel Burton was warm-hearted, energetic, loyal and adventurous. She was also arrogant, pretentious, impulsive and capricious. She had the instinct of a present-day tabloid journalist when it came to gaining favour for her husband, and her pen was hardly ever still on his behalf. She was utterly besotted by and devoted to Richard Burton, and would have followed him into a volcano had he suggested it. Once when they were alone in the desert they were charged by a ghazou of a hundred horsemen, lances couched and pointed at them. Burton told her to sit tight and not flinch. ‘They will stop two feet from you,’ he told her. ‘If you turn and run they will kill you, but if you face them with me they will say you have the heart of a lion.’ She obeyed, glad that he had warned her. ‘The whole tribe charged with their lances couched … we reined in and stood stock still. As soon as they got within a few yards … they lowered their lances and opened their ranks to enclose us, jumped off their horses, kissed our hands and galloped us in.’26

  She endured every danger, every privation, every hardship Burton ever asked of her, and they were many, and she was pleased to do it for love of him. However, bolstered by Isabel’s unqualified and continuous approval, Burton saw no reason to compromise. He ignored flattery and sycophants, and refused all gifts, even a basket of fruit for his wife. Many members of the Syrian community were adversely affected by Burton’s Solomon-like judgements, especially those who held their rank by corruption and bribery. Even overzealous missionaries felt the discomfort of his scathing remarks. Consequently he made many powerful enemies. Though Burton’s behaviour was moral, it was often undiplomatic, and it upset his senior colleague, the British consul-general in Beirut, a man of little ability but greater tact.

  With his enemies, including Reschid Pasha, agitating for Burton’s dismissal, it was inevitable that he would be recalled despite the loyal support of many upright citizens.27 Burton had been travelling in the northern parts of his consular territory when he received his formal recall, and he left directly for Beirut and England to put his case. Isabel, left in Damascus, received the telegram famous for its brevity. ‘I AM RECALLED PAY PACK AND FOLLOW.’28 Jane was naturally upset. Burton was a good man to have in the consulate, from her point of view, and Isabel had been a good friend. On 18 August 1871 she wrote in her diary: ‘The news is confirmed, and the Burtons go. This is very bad news for me, for they were most kind and sincere friends and many a pleasant hour have I passed in their society which I shall always remember.’

  On hearing of Burton’s departure, Medjuel wrote to him. It is the only known surviving letter by Medjuel, and it is noticeable that he uses the royal plural when referring to himself:

  Jemadi 7 A.H. 1286

  To His Excellency Captain Burton

  After sending you most affectionate greetings, and the great affection we offer your Excellency, it was our misfortune that we did not see you when you came to our house, and we are very sorry for it. After we heard of your going to England, grief and sorrow came heavily upon us because we have never seen any one equal to your Excellency in this country.

  All those related to England are deeply indebted to you – and all the denominations, Moslem and Christian, were fully satisfied with your Excellency; and they are all very sorry at your leaving. But we ask the Lord of Mercy to send you back to us in good health, and to let us meet you soon.

  From us and our brothers who send their greetings, and from all the Bedouin who send their best salaams. Whatever you wish us to do, tell us to do it.

  … Peace be with you.

  Medjuel el Mezrab29

  During the next three weeks Jane spent several days assisting Isabel, riding to Salhiyeh on Midjioumah to help her pack. On the day of the sale of the Burtons’ animals and effects Jane rode with Isabel into the hills so that the younger woman would not have to witness the break-up of her home.

  Monday September 11th 1871. Mrs Burton … came and breakfasted here and spent the day. How I regret their departure and how I shall miss her lively, friendly society.

  Tuesday 12th. I went and spent the day at Salhiyeh with Mrs Burton. My last day [with her], and at night we parted, probably never to meet again … notwithstanding her hopes of his return here as Consul-General.

  Isabel decided to leave at night in order to avoid a rumoured demonstration of support by those who felt aggrieved at the treatment of her husband. Abd el Khader and Jane were therefore the only two people present at her secret departure:

  they accompanied me as far as the city gates where I bid them an affectionate farewell. The parting with Lady Ellenborough affected me greatly. I was the poor thing’s only woman friend. As she wrung my hand these were her last words. ‘Do not forget your promise if I die and we should never meet again.’ I replied, ‘Inshallah, I shall soon return.’ She rode a black thoroughbred mare, and as far as I could see anything in the moonlight, her large sorrowful blue eyes glistening with tears, haunted me … I stole away from Damascus an hour before dawn.30

  Isabel’s seemingly innocuous account of her parting with Jane would later prove to be controversial. Jane was certainly present at a night-time parting, according to her own diary, though a pedant might cavil about the time, for the gates of the city were unlikely to be open between dusk and dawn. She was undoubtedly riding Midjioumah, her black, sure-footed, favourite mare. And it was more than possible that at the loss of her friend she had tears in her eyes. She shared with her mother, the handsome Lady Andover, an unusual talent to shed large glittering tears, making her eyes appear even more beautiful. But it was not this that would provoke indignation. Nor would the statement ‘I was the poor thing’s only woman friend’. In fact Jane was especially fond of Isabel because she was English, but she had many other women friends, even if they were not English and not of her rank; what Isabel really meant was that Jane was her only woman friend. However, what caused the future controversy was that curious final statement that Isabel attributed to Jane: ‘Do not forget your promise if I die …’

  23

  Untimely Obituary

  1871–1878

  The loss of the Burtons was sad but it made little difference to Jane’s life. There were the same daily visits, the same members of Damascene society attended her European-style dinners; and when Medjuel entertained, which was far more often, it was in the Arab-style reception hall, with floor cushions and food served on large brass platters on low tables.

  On those occasions Jane, veiled and dressed in bedouin clothes, would receive the guests, withdrawing to eat with any wives who had accompanied their husbands. She returned to pour water over the hands of Medjuel’s guests between courses, and to serve coffee, sherbets and narghiles. The women might or might not join the men for conversation afterwards. Jane never attempted to impose European culture upon her guests, as Isabel Burton, confident that her way was best, had done. Isabel expected men to rise when she entered a room or stood up, to be waited upon with refreshments by men at dinner and could not resist telling Arab wives how ‘it was done’ in England. Eventually she was told courteously but firmly by a male visitor, ‘Pray, Mrs Burton, do not teach our women things they do not know and never saw.’1

  By October 187
1 the extensions to Jane’s house were complete. Additional fountains and a further piece of land extended the gardens around the house, which impressed a constant stream of visitors from Europe. She heard several times from the Burtons, with details of their new appointment in Trieste. But one letter brought back a ghost of the past.

  Thursday 18th January 1872. I received a letter from Isabel confirming Lord Ellenborough’s death on the 23rd December last, on dear Madre’s birthday. She would have been 95 if still alive, and Lord Ellenborough was 82!!!! This news moved me with all kinds of sad remembrances. I felt sad and low as days and years long past, rose up before me …

  In the late spring of 1872 Medjuel was summoned to Homs by the Wali but after several months of negotiations he was at stalemate. The Wali tore up a petition regarding territory that Medjuel, his brothers and several other sheikhs presented, although it had been at the Wali’s instigation and invitation that they presented it. When, by August, the matter still detained Medjuel in Horns, Jane set off alone to join him. Better to face the danger of the roads in the heat of high summer than be parted from him, she concluded. He was at the tents near Hamah when she arrived at their house, but she sent a message and on 20 August he ‘suddenly arrived back looking ill and worn, and his beard quite grey. Nothing is finished of his affairs with Daas and the Hessienne.’

  Jane was annoyed when shortly afterwards the Wali, who had caused Medjuel such trouble, cast his eyes longingly upon Midjioumah. The mare was Jane’s favourite horse, still one of the fastest horses in the desert, and showy. But a request from the Wali was almost a royal command, and Jane had no option but to treat with his dragoman for what was little more than an enforced sale at £120. ‘Midjioumah, dear Midjioumah is gone! And for twenty pounds less than promised on account of her little spavin. I am very vexed.’ A few days later, when the Wali summoned Medjuel, for the first time holding out hope that he might look upon Medjuel’s tribal business with favour, Jane wrote resignedly that ‘dear Midjioumah has accomplished her mission’. Some weeks later, when the Wali left for Constantinople, Midjioumah was part of his train, but Medjuel’s problem was still not resolved.