The newspapers had their say too. The Times stated that there was little doubt about Jane’s adultery. However, it pointed out that there were other facts to be proven before a divorce might be granted. The editor hoped that there was no ‘collusion or connivance with the wife, [or] gross negligence of her morals or comforts … or gross profligacy on his part which might prevent the divorce going through’2 – especially, said the editorial suspiciously, in view of the fact that Lady Ellenborough had made no attempt to contest the divorce, nor offer any defence for her behaviour.
Denying the rumour that Prince Schwarzenberg had offered marriage to Lady Ellenborough if she obtained a divorce, the editor pointed out that in Austria, a Catholic country, such a thing was impossible. However,
as there has been no opposition by Lady Ellenborough or her family to this bill, we must conclude that neither she nor they have any objection to let the divorce be completed
Now this is a state of things which naturally begets the idea of collusion between the parties … the party seeking relief must come into court with clean hands. An adulteress cannot lawfully divorce her profligate husband. Nor can an adulterer his adulterous wife.
… it seems to us, from reports that are current that an enquiry might be advantageously directed to what might be called ‘the Brighton affair’.3
The open reference to the ‘Brighton affair’ – widespread reports of Ellenborough’s affair with the daughter of a confectioner from Brighton – was astonishing unless there was some evidence to back up the accusations. Yet it was mentioned in several papers, including The Times, and the word ‘collusion’ was raised a great deal by many in the debate.4 At one point it looked as though George Anson’s name might be brought into the proceedings, but to the relief of the family this dangerous ground was skated over.5
The cheaper papers were less circumspect than The Times. The Age, having questioned a former servant, claimed that Jane had found a portrait of Ellenborough’s current mistress ‘within six months of their marriage’ which ‘insulted the delicate sensibility of an affectionate wife’. Openly accusing Ellenborough of neglecting Jane not because of his work, but because of other women, the editor asked his lordship to answer publicly certain statements being made by many people, namely:
you have been an adulterer yourself, you have seduced and intrigued with females, more than one or two in humble life, one of whom has a child of which you are the father, and whom you refused to aid in her poverty and misery until fear of exposure tempted you to grant her a pittance …
The Times says boldly that there was an affair with a confectioner’s daughter at Brighton. Now this is downright slander or downright truth. Lord Ellenborough is bound, in justice to the public, to deny in toto the verity of such a charge.6
The same paper continued the attack a week later, referring also to an alleged relationship with another young woman, which led to a ‘recontre in Portland Place and even to a personal conflict’ between Ellenborough and a young doctor.7
Ellenborough loftily ignored the press, and so apparently did his peers, for after a third reading in the week of Jane’s twenty-third birthday, on 7 April, the bill was passed. Royal Assent was duly granted and the Clerk of the House gravely announced, in time-honoured fashion, ‘Soit fait comme il est désiré.’8 The Times, seeing the end of its best lead story since the King’s attempt to brand Queen Caroline an adulteress in order to divorce her, contented itself with a huffy statement:
As we hinted yesterday, such a result was all but inevitable; seeing in the first place that the chief opponent of the bill proceeded on the absurd ground that adultery was not proved, and secondly that nobody had the courage to take the true ground – the alleged conduct of Lord Ellenborough with respect to other women.9
There was a beneficiary of the publicity surrounding the Ellenborough divorce case. Advertised in The Times, as often as not alongside the daily reports of the hearings, was ‘A Satirical Novel of Fashionable Life’, entitled The Exclusives. The publisher’s blurb proclaimed: ‘This extraordinary production continues to be the leading topic of conversation among the higher circles. The astonishment felt at the details connected with a certain system of London Society is indescribable.’10 Although appearing under the shelter of anonymity this book was written by a lady-in-waiting to Queen Adelaide, and the leading character was unmistakably Lady Ellenborough. Just to ensure that her readers were not left wondering, the author boldly plagiarised the name ‘Lady Glenmore’, the same name as that used for the character based on Jane in Almack’s. The Exclusives ran to three editions in a month while the hearings lasted, and the publishers could not keep it in print. Covering the period 1827–8 the story told how Lord Glenmore, a Minister of the Crown, was cuckolded by a man bearing a remarkable resemblance to Colonel George Anson. It was the second of eight novels that would be written, during Jane’s lifetime, using her character or story.
Given the weight of evidence against Jane – publicly self-admitted, one might say, through Miss Steele – one might have expected some sympathy for Ellenborough. After all, he was the proven injured party and had recently been bereaved of his only son and heir. However, virtually no one believed that he had not behaved badly himself on the two counts of adulterous behaviour and neglect of Jane.
There is no doubt from the surviving evidence that an agreement was reached between Admiral Digby and Lord Ellenborough, which appears to be that, in return for Jane’s matrimonial freedom and a financial settlement, no defence evidence would be offered. However, if blame must be apportioned for what happened to the Ellenborough marriage, and despite the decision of Parliament, it was clearly not one-sided. Jane was guilty of adultery, on two previous occasions as well as her affair with Schwarzenberg, but it was well known in their circles that Ellenborough was as guilty as Jane of marital infidelity. At that time, however, it was not possible for a woman to divorce a man on the grounds of his adultery.
Ellenborough’s relationship with the Countess St Antonio terminated abruptly, and the Princesses Lieven and Esterhazy’s activities were sharply curtailed by their respective husbands after The Times hinted broadly that they were the undesirable persons to whom Margaret Steele had alluded. Lady Holland, at whose home all those most involved had often met, openly stated that Jane had been corrupted by the Esterhazys. Count Apponyi claims that Prince Esterhazy locked his wife in her bedchamber for a week11 and, according to Lord Clare, he ‘threatened her with divorce if she did not mend her ways’. In the same letter, Clare touched on the current widespread rumour that Ellenborough was to marry Clare’s sister Isabella. This ‘absurd story’ was swiftly denied: ‘You who know her will acquit her of the indelicacy of forming an engagement with a married man. But in truth the [two] parties, which by the way have not met for more than a year, have not and never have had any thought of being mated.’12
In fact, Ellenborough was never to marry again. After a brilliant career during which he became a highly successful Governor-General of India, he died without a legitimate son to inherit his title, which then passed to another branch of his family. He was never socially ostracised as Jane was, but, though his career was never affected by the divorce, few decent families were prepared to risk a daughter to the dubious protection of a man over whose reputation so many questions hung. Instead, as the years passed, Edward lived with several mistresses (not of his own class), by whom he had a number of children, one of whom is said to have