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 week later Jane set out for Paris with her baby daughter. It is clear, from a poem written in December 1830, when fresh tragedy struck, that she was distressed about Arthur’s death. She was also depressed after the birth of Mathilde, and worried about her future. Just as her father had warned, Felix had confirmed that his religion would not allow him to marry her and, further, her reputation could damage his career. Jane optimistically believed that once she joined Felix their former love would reassert itself and he might find a way. Meanwhile, at least they would be together.
In England, Ellenborough too was concerned for the future. The forthcoming divorce hearings would, he knew, be extremely unpleasant. Jane would not – could not – contest the charge of adultery. However, it was important that his own behaviour did not come under close scrutiny, for under the prevailing laws a divorce could not be granted if both he and Jane were found equally guilty to adultery. Yet with the death of his son and heir it was even more important, now, for him to obtain a divorce in order to remarry.
Jane decided to keep the name of Madame Einberg when she arrived in Paris. Felix had rented an apartment for her in the fashionable quarter of the Fauberg Saint-Germain,20 and she lived there for some weeks while she searched for something more suitable for herself and her child. Primarily, though, simply being with Felix was all she asked. It was perhaps just as well that she chose to live quietly under an assumed name. Within weeks she was to become the most notorious woman in England.
Until comparatively recent years The Times newspaper was renowned for its front page which consisted of classified advertisements. In May 1966, when the front page was changed to a news format, there was an outcry of protest. However, there was a precedent: 136 years earlier, in April 1830, the editor broke with tradition and placed the Ellenborough divorce case on the front pages.
On 1 April the entire right-hand column of the first page and two-thirds of the second page were given over to the story. It was a sell-out. On 2 April virtually the entire front page and part of page 2 were given over to a complete transcript of the Ellenborough divorce hearing. For weeks the name of Lady Ellenborough was in every newspaper and Jane’s misdemeanours became the breakfast-table tittle-tattle of the entire country, causing her name to become a byword for scandalous behaviour for generations. Indeed, for decades small news items continued to appear (they were often incorrect) about her adventures, always referring to her as Lady Ellenborough, though after 1834 she never again used this name.
The preliminary hearing by the Consistory Court, held in relative privacy on 22 February, readily established from the assembled evidence that Jane was guilty of adultery. That was the easy part. But Ellenborough’s application for his marriage to be dissolved then had to be examined, under law, by both Houses of Parliament, in public. Divorce was a difficult and highly complicated legal matter. As a lawyer Ellenborough knew that only too well. The social ignominy and sheer cost of obtaining a divorce meant that few were applied for.
On 9 March 1830, in the House of Lords, the Clerk read out the Order of the Day:
being the Second Reading of the Bill entitled, ‘An Act to dissolve the marriage of the Right Honourable Edward Baron Ellenborough with the Right Honourable Jane Elizabeth Baroness Ellenborough his now Wife, and to enable him to marry again; and for other purposes therein mentioned’, and for hearing Counsel for and against the same, and for the Lords to be summoned.1
The witnesses were called, gave their evidence and were cross-questioned at length by Lord Ellenborough’s counsel and subsequently by any member of the House who wished to query the facts. Jane was not represented and offered no defence; no attempt was made to mitigate her actions. Ellenborough’s counsel, Mr Wigram, began calling staff from the Norfolk Hotel, who detailed the couple’s movements during their overnight stay in Brighton. Robert Hepple, the night porter on the evening of 7 February 1828, was questioned minutely about what he had heard after watching the prince go into Lady Ellenborough’s room at midnight:
Q: Did he lock the door after him?
A: He did.
Q: Did you still watch him?
A: I waited a short time at the door … a quarter of an hour the first time: then I went again … and remained there, I daresay, nearly an hour …
Q: How near to the door?
A: Quite close … I heard two persons talking, a man and a woman in the room … the language was foreign to me, it was not a language I understood at all.
Q: Did you hear anything more?
A: I heard him get into bed … and I heard them kissing.
The entire performance was repeated again in early April in the House of Commons, where radical members were not inclined to allow an easy passage of the reading to accommodate Lord Ellenborough. Not surprisingly, Jane’s grandfather did not take his seat for the hearing. On this occasion Robert Hepple was constrained to take his answer at the same point in the proceedings a step further:
Q: What did you hear then?
A: I could hear them kissing, and a noise that convinced me that the act of cohabitation was taking place.
A word-for-word transcript of the Commons hearing was reproduced in The Times. Thus respectable ladies might sit in their own drawing-rooms or boudoirs and learn the shocking nature of Lady Ellenborough’s guilt from Mr John Ward, the prince’s neighbour in Harley Street. Mr Ward testified that Jane was a frequent visitor to the house opposite, disguised with a white veil. Sometimes he saw her in the upper-floor room which faced this drawing-room:
Q: Have you ever observed anything in particular passing between them?
A: On one occasion I saw Prince Schwarzenberg assisting in dressing the lady.
Q: In what state was the lady at this time?
A: The Prince was lacing her stays.
Jane’s groom, William Carpenter, was as economical with his answers as could possibly be while remaining truthful under oath. For his loyalty to his mistress he was told that he was the most difficult and unwilling witness it had ever been counsel’s misfortune to examine. Yet even young William had to admit that he had accompanied Lady Ellenborough when she went to the Castle Hotel, Richmond, one afternoon with the prince. Yes, he had put the horses up there, and yes, he had lied to the head groom about where he had been that afternoon. Was there another similar occasion at Highgate? Yes. And yes, he had ridden out with his mistress on many other occasions when she met the prince. Yes, he had looked after her horse on many occasions while she visited a house in Harley Street. No, he did not know which house; he presumed it was her father’s house. Why should she ask him to wait so far from her father’s door? He did not know the reason why. Yes, she had left him in charge of her carriage after they left the Countess St Antonio’s house; Lady Ellenborough travelled with the prince in his closed chaise until they were within sight of Elm Grove at Roehampton where she transferred back to her own carriage again.
As William Carpenter stood down, a Member of the House intervened in the hearing. Mr Joseph