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

by Mary S. Lovell

  One wonders why Jane chose to go specifically to Munich at this point. Of course, she had to go somewhere other than England, where her notoriety was such that she could never have been received in society. She was still not yet twenty-five, and beautiful. She had a comfortable income and a zest for life; she could not hide away in a rented cottage for the rest of her days. In Paris there was nothing for her as an unprotected woman with a reputation, and besides she now hated the city where her hopes had turned sour.11 A previous biographer suggests that she chose Munich because the British Ambassador there was Lord Erskine, a good friend of Jane’s grandfather.12 Jane had grown up with the large family of Erskine sons and daughters who might be depended upon not to bar her from their home nor be too critical of the scandal surrounding her name.13 There may have been more than one reason, however.

  Diplomats are not normally at liberty to leave a situation merely because of a disagreement with a mistress (if such were the case, diplomatic legations could hardly continue to function). Since Felix had been openly keeping Jane as his mistress in Paris for over a year, it is doubtful that he was whisked away by his superiors to avoid another ‘incident’, as he had been in London. Clearly the disagreement between Jane and Felix coincided with the end of the prince’s time at the Paris legation anyway; it had only been a temporary assignment for the sake of expediency. He was almost certainly aware that his next posting would be to Germany, and Munich was the most likely base.

  Formerly a stolid provincial town, Munich was at that time enjoying a renaissance. Under the personal direction of the latest scion of the House of Wittelsbach, King Ludwig I of Bavaria, a new era of neo-classicism was in vogue. Determined to break the French stranglehold on German culture, and in a bid to achieve his dream of creating the perfect city, Ludwig ensured that German Gothic and rococo design gave way to Grecian friezes and clean rows of Ionic columns. Narrow tree-lined streets opened into broad thoroughfares and plazas with triumphal Roman arches; quiet squares were crowned with obelisks and monuments. Churches and basilicas, palaces and rotundas, museums, art galleries and libraries, public gardens and theatres sprang up around the city. As a result of this feverish activity Munich increasingly came to be regarded as an important centre for the arts; art galleries and libraries have to be filled.

  However, after a period of seclusion at Krumlov, during which time he wrote his famous treatise on the 1830 Revolution, Prince Felix Schwarzenberg was appointed Legation Counsellor and posted, not to Munich, but to Berlin. But Jane had already rented a house in Munich. She wrote again to Felix begging him to meet her, anywhere, confident that if they could only meet she could convince him of the truth. There was no reason why she should not hope for this, since in his letters Felix insisted that he still loved her and their child, Didi. Presumably her relationship with the Erskine family meant that she was not friendless upon her arrival in the city, and her beauty and personality immediately ensured a number of eager escorts. However, she could not go into what she called ‘society’ – that is, the society of those she regarded as her peers.

  For some weeks she was occupied in furnishing and decorating her new home and designing the garden; these were newly acquired interests that would remain with her for the rest of her life. Munich was exciting, and promised, once the many building projects were completed, to rival any city in Europe for architectural interest. Yet it was Munich’s proximity to Felix’s home, less than 200 miles away, that was its chief attraction for Jane. One of her first purchases must have been a good horse, for the first mention of her at this time is of her beauty and horsemanship.

  Within a remarkably short time of Jane’s arrival in the town, word of her reached the ears of the King. Ludwig was a man who worshipped beauty all his life: beautiful objects, beautiful buildings and beautiful women.14 Either by design or by coincidence a meeting occurred between the two in early October 1832 at an Oktoberfest ball and so began for Jane a wonderful relationship with the man whom as friend, and in her personal estimation, she regarded as second only to the great love of her life, and the latter was as yet many years in the future.

  Born in Strasbourg in 1786, King Ludwig I, a godson of King Louis XVI of France and Marie-Antoinette, and a somewhat unwilling protégé of Napoleon and Josephine, had ascended the Bavarian throne seven years earlier at the age of thirty-five.15 The House of Wittelsbach had ruled Bavaria for almost a thousand years, and its latest head was the same age as Lord Ellenborough. He was an amiable and intelligent man, kind to a fault, and a workaholic.

  At the age of eighteen Ludwig went to Italy. It is said that he saw the Colosseum by moonlight and fell deeply in love. In Venice he was further enthralled. And as he roamed the sun-baked Tuscan hill towns he gave his heart completely to southern lands. It was the one love in his life that was never to fade. As a result of the years he spent in Italy and his later travels in Greece, Ludwig formed a deep interest in ancient civilisations and subsequently became an acknowledged expert on the subject during a period of almost twenty years’ study. His taste in art was, in fact, remarkably similar to that of Jane’s grandfather. The decorations at Holkham and those in Ludwig’s palaces might have been planned by the same person.

  He married the former Princess Theresa of Saxe-Hildburghausen, ‘the best-looking princess in Europe’ according to Ludwig’s biographer. Their wedding celebrations in October 1810 were so well received that the people of Munich repeated them again on the couple’s anniversary; and the celebrations are still being held each year as Munich’s famous Oktoberfest. Ludwig himself was then ‘a fair young man … with soft features, a flushed face, a proud full mouth and wide blue eyes. Allowing for the flattery expected by princes, he still must have been amazingly good-looking.’16 The royal couple had seven children and the marriage was, despite Ludwig’s many love affairs, an affectionate one.

  When he ascended the throne of Bavaria, Ludwig used his classical knowledge and his philhellenism in the design of his new capital. He set in motion, at huge cost, many civic projects designed to turn Munich into the most beautiful city in Europe, a second Athens, a city to rival Florence and Paris. Excavations were commissioned in Italy and Greece to recover ‘lost’ works of art, the cities of Europe were combed to purchase classical treasures originally plundered by Napoleon’s armies. One of his first actions as King was to commission a great art gallery (the Pinakothek) to house the royal art collection and make it available to the public. No expense was to be spared to achieve his objective, even though it reduced the members of his household to petty economies and Ludwig himself wandered around his many building sites dressed like a penniless artist.

  The year that Ludwig met Jane was a landmark for him in that his eighteen-year-old second son, Otto, had been elected King of Greece by a self-selected mini-League of Nations headed by Metternich. Short of being made King of Greece himself, nothing could have pleased Ludwig more than that his son should become ruler of the country which had evolved what he considered to be the ideal culture. Coincidentally, Lord Ellenborough had been involved in the early discussions on a suitable candidate to fill this role,17 and Jane knew something of the political background to the choice of Prince Otto. Although she was never interested in politics Jane still maintained a correspondence with, among others, the Princesses Lieven and Esterhazy and Lord Londonderry, so that she could not help but pick up news which undoubtedly made her an interesting conversationalist. She was an animated talker with a good sense of humour, and this shows in the surviving letters of her later years. From her upbringing at Holkham, Jane retained a basic knowledge of classical art, and she had travelled in Italy – which enabled her to talk on the subjects that most interested Ludwig. Had she been merely a pretty face, she would no doubt have gone the way of most of Ludwig’s numerous beautiful mistresses in a very short time.

  As it was, the two quickly forged a close friendship based on shared confidences, punctuated by a correspondence that would last for six years. In her letters and bi
llets-doux she addressed him as ‘My Dearest Friend’ or ‘Dearest Lewis’, an anglicised version of his given name, Louis, used by his intimates.18 In her diaries and between themselves, however, Jane and the King used names from the ancient world. She was ‘Ianthe’ (the Greek equivalent of the name Jane) while he was ‘Basily’ (from the Greek basileus meaning king).

  Initially, Jane regarded the King as a friend and comforter. Within days of their meeting he had written a poem to her and she was writing to him on intimate terms. At the same time she confessed that she trembled to use his Christian name so freely, despite his insistence that she dispense with all formalities, and hesitated to give him her complete trust ‘lest at some future date you will receive it as another did!’19

  Ludwig was intensely attracted to this charming young woman, who seemed to him at times little more than a hurt child. She was recovering from a mild eye infection when he first met her and seemed fragile and forlorn.20 The King found it difficult to resist the romantic story of Jane’s ultimate sacrifice for love, of her continuing devotion to Felix and her determination to be reconciled to him. Undoubtedly he felt protective towards her. Jane was happy to have such a sympathetic and uncritical ear for her problems, and the King made daily visits to her home to listen and advise. She happily shared Felix’s letters with him, already secure in the knowledge that Basily was her champion.

  Meanwhile Jane was besieged by other admirers, and within several weeks of her arrival in Munich had already received several proposals of marriage, none of which she took seriously.21 She now knew how to handle flirtations with charming expertise, refusing suitors in a manner which left them feeling complimented rather than rejected. Hence she received a diet of admiration which bolstered her spirits and kept about her a court of suitors which did her no disservice in the eyes of Ludwig. He became completely immersed in the romantic story of Jane and her prince, with its haunting Tristan and Isolde theme. The thought of this extraordinarily lovely child-woman, whose passions were apparently as strongly felt as his own, who was desired by so many yet rejected all to remain faithful to her one true love, enchanted him. He swore to do all in his power to help her achieve a reunion with Felix, and meanwhile was happy to dispense advice and offer warm affection.22

  Their daily meetings were augmented by frequent notes, sometimes two or three times a day, hand-delivered by their servants.23 Each evening the King called at Jane’s home, and most days she called on him at the vast Residenz Palace. They exchanged gifts. He gave her an inscribed prayer book, and often sent her posies of violets which she told him were her favourite flowers; she embroidered a cap for him and sent him sketches she made of the countryside around Munich. From the beginning he warned her to be careful of the content of her letters to him, for his position made him vulnerable. His fears were prophetic, for he would ultimately lose his crown through the indiscretion of a mistress. Throughout their correspondence Jane was careful, sometimes advising him she was being so, for his sake.

  One of the proposals of marriage rejected by Jane came from a more than usually attentive and eligible source. Baron Carl Theodore Venningen, whom Jane met one morning while riding in the Hofgarten, fell instantly in love with her, just as Felix Schwarzenberg had done. But in the baron’s case Jane would remain his ideal while there was breath in his body. Unlike Jane’s other suitors, Carl – or Charles as Jane called him – refused to be rebuffed and became too attentive for Ludwig’s liking. This may have been because Ludwig was jealous on his own account, or because it spoiled his dream of a romantic reunion between Felix and Jane, the thought of which the King found irresistible.

  However, it is obvious that Jane could not be singularly dependent upon her royal friend for friendship. She was not received at court, and the time the King could devote to her was, of necessity, limited. So Charles, who pursued her as tirelessly as Felix had once done, was Jane’s diversion from loneliness. He was tall, red-haired and good-looking, an aristocrat of obvious Germanic stock who wore the dashing uniform of a cavalry officer of the King’s Regiment.24 He rode well, and wrote exquisite French in a small, neat hand. He spoke English and indeed had English connections too, for he was first cousin to Lady Granville, the wife of the British Ambassador in Paris during the time that Jane was living there with Felix Schwarzenberg. Left to himself, Charles was inclined to perceive life as a serious business; Jane was like a beautiful butterfly that had fluttered within his grasp. He was utterly fascinated.

  At first she regarded him merely as an amusing and pleasant companion; his constantly repeated proposals became almost a joke between them, prettily parried by Jane. Indeed, Charles’s devotion and frequently professed wish to marry her must have counterbalanced to some extent the pain of rejection by Felix. Yet she loved Felix so utterly that no man could even begin to be a substitute. She explained her feelings to Charles as she had explained them to the King, but Charles continued to press his suit. After all, he must have thought, he was here in Munich; Felix was not.

  Felix continued to write to Jane, however, and though he resisted a meeting his constant declarations of love gave her reason to hope that their relationship could be resuscitated. In an attempt to assist in their reunion, Ludwig suggested that the couple might meet secretly at Schloss Berg, a Wittelsbach hunting lodge on Lake Starnberg, some forty miles south-west of Munich. There in romantic isolation they could discuss their differences and perhaps achieve a rapprochement without inviting further gossip. At the end of October 1831 Jane wrote to Felix telling him of the meeting proposed by the King. She begged him to join her and set out for Schloss Berg.

  Full of anticipation, though Felix had not yet actually agreed to meet her, Jane waited for him. The poem she wrote upon her arrival wondered anxiously whether he would look at her ‘as of old’ or whether she must expect ‘a change I never thought to see’. Convinced that he merely had to see her to know that she loved only him, regardless of what others told him and the deceitful ‘breath of shrilling slander’, she refused to believe he could receive her coldly after all they had meant to each other.

  Her confidence in her ability to win Felix back was undoubtedly due to her experience that where men were concerned one look was all it usually took. Felix possibly knew this too; hence his attitude regarding a meeting. It must not be forgotten, either, that Felix was an unusual man with unique qualities. His official court biographer in Vienna insisted he had mystical powers: ‘The excessive life-force of the Prince is illustrated by the fact that he had a magnetic influence over women – not in the romantic and figurative way, but actually and medically. His sister was supposed to come especially to visit him and touch his hand to acquire more strength.’25 Perhaps this explains, in part, Jane’s obsession.

  Jane remained at Berg for several weeks in October and November 1831, wandering in the glorious woodlands alone, on horseback or on foot, willing her prince to come to her. One day her hopes soared when a visitor arrived, but it was not Felix. The persistent Charles Venningen had pursued her to her secret hideaway. Fearful that his presence might be misinterpreted by both the King and Felix, Jane insisted Charles return to Munich immediately and to ensure he did so made him the bearer of one of her frequent letters to the King. ‘I am so glad, dearest Lewis, to have had this opportunity of sending you these lines by Monsieur de Venningen who came here today. By this means you will receive them sooner … as he returns this evening’ – not, however, before he had made some ardent advances.

  After ten days Felix wrote to advise that he could not meet Jane because of his commitments. As consolation the same post brought two letters from the King, a bouquet of violets and a book of his own poems preceded by the handwritten inscription:

  These poems show you, show you my innermost feelings

  You who became a victim of love, you will understand me

  As I understand you, dearest, whom the world has exiled.

  I will never judge you harshly, even if all the world does!

  I
cannot condemn you, because I understand it all.

  Jane replied: ‘Do you really long for my return? Your wish shall be gratified … My first care shall be to sit for your picture. You are very impatient to have it finished, and that wish is sufficient for your Ianthe.’26 She returned to Munich having written her own dispirited poem of disappointment: ‘He comes not, ’twas but fancy’s dream which mocked my hopes with visions bright.’27

  It is difficult to explain Schwarzenberg’s behaviour. If he did not wish the relationship to continue, why the constantly repeated avowals which kept Jane dancing to his tune? Had he simply told Jane that he no longer loved her it would have set her free, though painfully. The King sought to console his lovely young friend, and during the course of their conversation queried Baron Venningen’s frequent attendance at Jane’s home. When Jane confessed that his advances were becoming pressing, the King was alarmed. He begged her to discourage Charles and to be true to their shared ideal of love in its purest form.

  One of Ludwig’s minor self-indulgences had been to commission the Schönheits-Galerie (Gallery of Beauty) for the Festsaalbau (or assembly rooms) at the Residenz. Similar in concept to the Lely series of Charles II’s ‘Ladies of the Bedchamber’, it consisted of a series of paintings by the court artist, Josef Stieler, of beautiful women. They were mainly members of Ludwig’s court (some were his mistresses), but Ludwig’s appreciation of pulchritude was catholic and women of every social rank were included, from the beautiful daughter of a Munich shoemaker to the wife of the British Minister, Lord Milbanke. In this gallery the royal connoisseur liked to wander each morning to contemplate in an inspirational communion of beauty. Ludwig asked Jane to sit for Stieler as an example of her type of beauty, and was present for most of the sittings.