returning from the newly-found Ophir of the Occident. Though the first
headlong rush to California was over, it still drew its thousands every
month, and Greeley's famous advice to the young man was followed without
having been asked. Lola became infected with the fever. There was much of
the gambler in her nature, and her zest for adventure was keener than of
old. At this time, too, a positive distaste for civilisation appears to
have possessed her. It may have been the vision of a wild, unfettered life
in a virgin land that dispelled the sickly hankerings for the cloister.
She sailed across the Gulf of Mexico to San Juan del Norte, or Greytown,
as it is now called, the newly opened halfway-house to the gold-fields.
Thence the route lay across the beautiful savannahs of Nicaragua to the
Pacific shore. She passed the white-walled towns of Leon and Rivas, which
Walker and his filibusters two years later harried with fire and sword.
This was an alternative route to that across the isthmus of Panama, which
she was fabled to have followed in a book by Russell, the
war-correspondent, called the "Adventures of Mrs. Seacole." Lola refers
to this mendacious romance in her little autobiography, and quotes the
following passage in order to characterise it at the finish as a base
fabrication from beginning to end:--
"Occasionally some distinguished passengers passed on the upward and
downward tides of ruffianism and rascality that swept periodically
through Cruces. Came one day Lola Montez, in the full zenith of her
evil fame, bound for California with a strange suite. A good-looking,
bold woman, with fine, bad eyes and a determined bearing, dressed
ostentatiously in perfect male attire, with shirt collar turned down
over a velvet lapelled coat, richly worked shirt-front, black hat,
French unmentionables, and natty polished boots with spurs. She
carried in her hand a handsome riding-whip, which she could use as
well in the streets of Cruces as in the towns of Europe; for an
impertinent American, presuming, perhaps not unnaturally, upon her
reputation, laid hold jestingly of the tails of her long coat, and, as
a lesson, received a cut across his face that must have marked him for
some days. I did not see the row which followed, and was glad when the
wretched woman rode off on the following morning."
The incident is a spicy little bit of fiction, such as is so easily
invented by the fertile journalistic brain. The adjectives applied to Lola
also illustrate, in a mildly diverting manner, the strictly orthodox
notions of morality entertained by the newspaper press, and the pontifical
confidence with which journalists pronounce on questions of conduct.[25]
On the long journey to the golden gate, Lola had as a fellow-passenger a
young man named Patrick Purdy Hull, a native of Ohio, and editor of the
_San Francisco Whig_. The acquaintance thus formed soon ripened into an
attachment. Though, upon her arrival in California, the Countess
immediately went on tour among the mining camps, her new victim did not
lose sight of her. For the third time Lola went through the ceremony of
wedlock. On 1st July 1853 she married Hull at the Church of the Mission
Dolores, "in presence," runs the report, "of a select party, among whom
were Beverly C. Saunders, Esq., Judge Wills, James E. Wainwright, Esq., A.
Bartol, Esq., Louis R. Lull, S. A. Brinsmade, and other prominent
citizens"--all among the most remarkable men in that country, no doubt.
"The bride and groom have since visited Sacramento, and are now in
domestic retirement at San Francisco."[26]
From the reports of remarkable men and prominent citizens shooting each
other in the public streets, of bandits raiding the suburbs, of fires and
floods, that accompany this announcement, we should imagine that domestic
retirement in San Francisco was at that time subject to frequent and
unpleasant interruption. On this account, perhaps, Mr. and Mrs. Hull spent
much of their time hunting in the valley of the Sacramento. Lola was in
search of new sensations, and for the moment the bear seemed a more
attractive quarry than the man. But before long a German medical man,
named Adler, himself a mighty hunter, came across her path. His prowess
excited her admiration, and he at once fell a victim to the shafts from
her quiver. Hull was discarded and the German reigned in his stead.
In these American _amours_ we seem to detect the last flickerings of the
flame of passion--the woman's last strenuous efforts to find a real and
lasting interest in life. But Lola had played too much with love. That
mighty force which she had so often exploited and exerted to the
furtherance of her ambitions was no longer at her command. Her capacity
for love was exhausted; by passion she was no more to rule or to be ruled.
She had hardly time to tire of her German lover, who accidentally shot
himself while following the chase--no bad death for a hunter. It might
have been expected that Lola would now quit California and return to more
congruous surroundings. But a distaste for men and cities, for the
restraints of civilisation, had grown strong within her. Just then she was
sick of love and sick of the world. At her best, a splendid animal, with
fierce elemental passions, she turned almost instinctively, to draw fresh
supplies of vitality from "the green, sweet-hearted earth." She made
herself a home in a cabin at Grass Valley, a lawless mining camp, among
the foot-hills of the Sierra Nevada. All her life she had loved animals,
and these she now made her special friends and companions, finding in
their marvellous stores of affection and devotion ample compensation for
the muddy evanescent emotion that men call love. She did not, of course,
lead the life of a hermit. We catch glimpses of her in a despatch from
Nevada City, dated 20th January 1854:--
"The merry ringing of sleigh bells has been heard for several days
past in our city. Several sleighs have been fitted up, and the young
gentlemen have treated the ladies to some dashing turn-outs. On
Tuesday last, Lola Montez paid us a visit by this conveyance and a
span of horses, decorated with impromptu cowbells. She flashed like a
meteor through the snowflakes and wanton snowballs, and after a tour
of the thoroughfares, disappeared in the direction of Grass Valley."
There she continued to dwell during the rest of that year, her liking for
the simple life unabated. A correspondent of the _San Francisco Herald_,
who visited her on 13th December, describes her as--
"living a quiet, and apparently cosy life, surrounded by her pet
birds, dogs, goats, sheep, hens, turkeys, pigs, and her pony. The
latter seems to be a favourite with Lola, and is her companion in all
her mountain rambles. Surely it is a strange metamorphosis to find the
woman who has gained a world-renowned notoriety, and has played a part
upon the stage of life with powerful potentates, and with whose name
Europe and the world is familiar, finally settled down at home in the
mountain wilds of California."
A strange change, indeed, but no unpleasant life it could have been. What
memories, what scenes, must have supplied food for the lonely woman's
musings, as she galloped over the hills, or, seated with her dogs, gazed
into her great fire of resinous logs! In communion thus with our great
mother, treading these virgin forests, and breathing an air hardly yet
inhaled by man, she might have attained to a higher, truer plane of
existence than that which she finally took to be firm ground. But luck was
against her here, as always. A fire swept away the township of Grass
Valley, and with it Lola's little homestead--the only home that she had
ever known. Her animals were dispersed, she was without funds. But she had
renewed her stock of vitality at Nature's fountains. She went on her
travels again, reinvigorated: a coarser woman, no doubt, thanks to her
contact with miners and hunters, but, perhaps, a better one. She still
loved the new auriferous lands. In the track of the sun she would continue
to journey, and in June sailed from California across the ocean to
Australia.
XXX
IN AUSTRALIA
Even to the antipodes--in the 'fifties unconnected by the telegraph with
the rest of the world, and distant a three months' journey from
England--the fame of the Countess of Landsfeld had extended. Her name had
travelled completely round the world, and was as familiar to the people of
Sydney as to those of London and Paris. Lola found that her prolonged rest
cure had weakened in no way her hold on public curiosity. The moment for
her arrival in New South Wales was not, however, well chosen. Commerce and
agriculture were alike depressed, and the mind of the Colonists was
preoccupied with the business of constitution-making. The city lay, too,
under the spell of a celebrated Irish singer, Miss Catherine Hayes, "the
sweet swan of Erin." It is, perhaps, worth noting that this vocalist was
born at the same town as Lola, was married at the same church (St.
George's, Hanover Square), and was to die the same year; that she made her
_debut_ under the same manager (Benjamin Lumley), at the same theatre, and
that the two women had for the last year or two trodden undeviatingly in
each other's footsteps. Miss Hayes had been in possession of the Prince of
Wales's Theatre nearly a fortnight, when Lola's arrival startled the
eldest Australian city. The newcomer was engaged by Tonning of the
Victoria Theatre, and was announced to appear, together with Mr. Lambert,
Mr. Falland, and Mr. C. Jones, on 23rd August 1855, in the four-act drama,
_Lola Montez in Bavaria_. The theatre was crowded to excess.
"The Countess looked charming, and acted very archly. She was cheered
vociferously, and recalled before the curtain, when she delivered a
short address. Mr. Lambert (well known in London) created quite a
sensation in the King of Bavaria (by which name he is now known), and
at the end of the performance the Countess presented him with a
handsome bundle of cigarettes--a very great compliment, as she is an
inveterate smoker, and seldom gives any cigars away.
"The excitement about her immediately empties the Prince of Wales's
Theatre, and Miss Hayes is then taken suddenly ill. Two nights after
the Countess of Landsfeld is seriously indisposed, and Miss Hayes
recovers. Her recovery restores Lola Montez to perfect health."[27]
On 27th August she appeared in _Yelva, or the Orphan of Russia_, "a new
and exciting drama" she had herself translated from the French. On
Wednesday, 6th September, she took a benefit, playing in _The Follies of a
Night_, and two farces. Into one of these she introduced her "Spider
Dance," which seems to have outraged colonial opinion. We need not condemn
it on that account as immodest, for in our own day we have seen a
performance interdicted as offensive to public morals in Manchester, and
pronounced (rightly) to be the quintessence of mobile grace and the truest
poetry of motion in the not less considerable city of London. Immodesty
in the minds of many people definitely connotes that which pleases the
eyes and the senses.
Business continued dull at Sydney, and Lola departed in the second week of
September for Melbourne. A dispute had arisen between her and another
member of her company, Mrs. Fiddes, who issued a writ of attachment
against her. Brown, the sheriff, went aboard the steamer to apprehend
Lola, who retired to her cabin till the vessel was well under weigh. She
then sent word that the officer could arrest her if he would, but she was
obliged to tell him that she was quite naked. The bold expedient was, of
course, successful. "Poor Brown," we are told, "blushed and retired, and
was put on shore at the Heads, about twenty miles from Sydney, and was
greeted on his return to the city with roars of laughter." The sheriff
evidently did not object to repeating a good story, even at his own
expense.
At Melbourne, Lola must have been vividly reminded of California. The gold
fever was at its height. The population of the Port Philip district had
swollen in five years from 76,000 to 364,000, of which number at least
two-thirds were men. Men, too, they were, of every nationality under the
sun, and of every class, though the more criminal and dangerous elements
were in the ascendant. In '55 life and property were, notwithstanding,
somewhat more secure here than in California, thanks to the firmer, less
corrupt administration of British officials. Prices were, it need not be
said, extravagantly high, though the barest necessities of decent life
were hardly obtainable outside Melbourne and Geelong. A goldfield would
seem to be one of the most brutalising environments to which a human
being can adapt himself.
For our knowledge of Lola's doings in the Victorian capital, we are
indebted to the _Era's_ local correspondent. He writes:--
"Lola Montez made her _debut_ on 21st September, in a short drama
allusive to her own Bavarian transactions, but the piece might well
have borne curtailment. There was a very crowded audience. The
_ci-devant_ Countess of Landsfeld seemed determined to preserve her
notoriety intact by the selection, but entrenched so far upon decorum
in the 'Spider Dance' on a subsequent evening, that she did not face
the clamour raised in consequence till the objectionable portions were
agreed to be omitted. She is certainly a very singular character, but
there is an ever lively and brusque style in her action that seems to
catch general approbation for the time being.
"After a brief stay, Lola departed for Geelong; but there, I learn,
her performances were freely condemned. Indeed, their laxness was also
much canvassed with us, and the more staid of the visitors openly
enough expressed their censure. Subsequently to the performance, Dr.
Milman demanded of the Mayor at the City Court, in the name of an
outraged community, that a warrant be issued against all repetition of
the performances of Mme. Lola Montez at the Theatre Royal. The Mayor
referred the matter to the private room of the magistrates,
considering that should be the proper place for its discussion. The
bench declared that the law would not sustain them in issuing a
warrant unless the Doctor had actually witnessed the performance, and
had his information properly attested by witnesses. This he declared
he would do."
The methods of these self-constituted champions of outraged morality are
the same in every age. They condemn first, and collect evidence
afterwards--if at all.
Opinion in Geelong does not seem to have been as hostile as the _Era's_
correspondent supposed. In the _Geelong Advertiser_ of 10th October is to
be found the following paragraph:--
ILLNESS OF LOLA MONTEZ
"Owing to severe indisposition, this talented actress is unable to
appear before a Geelong audience. When competent to perform, her
reappearance will be duly notified. Madame is suffering from severe
cold and bronchitis, and is now under the care of Dr. Thompson, of
Melbourne. To previous indisposition was superadded a severe attack
induced by exposure to the thunderstorm on Saturday."
Lola's illness was of a passing character. That it in no way impaired her
vigour we shall presently see. From Melbourne she proceeded to the
goldfields, moving among the most desperate characters of the two
hemispheres undismayed and unafraid, a woman capable of defending herself
with whip and tongue. A singular character, in truth was hers, thus
equally at home in kings' courts and miners' camps, able to parry and to
counterplot against the schemes and intrigues of Metternich, able to
subdue and to tame the half-savage ex-convicts and desperadoes of the
Australian diggings.
At Ballaarat occurred the celebrated fracas with Mr. Seekamp. This man was
the editor of the local newspaper (the _Times_), and upon Lola's arrival
in the town, he published an article, putting the worst construction on
the episodes of her past life, and reflecting in uncomplimentary terms on
her character. He was, no doubt, another guardian of public morality,
which in mining camps is, of course, a very delicate growth. A few
evenings afterwards, he was so rash as to call at the United States Hotel,
where the woman he had traduced was staying. Being informed that he was
below, Lola ran downstairs with a riding-whip, and laid it across his back
with right good will. The journalist also held a whip, with which he
defended himself lustily. Before long the combatants had each other
literally by the hair. The bystanders interposed, and the two were
separated, but not before life-preservers and revolvers had been produced.
It seems to us an unedifying performance, though a woman, if insulted, has
undoubtedly the right to chastise her offender physically, if she is able.
Such was the view taken by the miners of Ballaarat. At the theatre that
evening she was the object of an ovation, which she acknowledged at the
conclusion of the performance.
"I thank you," she said, "most sincerely for your friendship. I regret
to be obliged to refer again to Mr. Seekamp, but it is not my fault,
as he again in this morning's paper repeated his attack upon me. You
have heard of the scene that took place this afternoon. Mr. Seekamp
threatens to continue his charges against my character. I offered,
though a woman, to meet him with pistols; but the coward who could
beat a woman, ran from a woman. He says he will drive me off the
diggings; but I will change the tables, and make Seekamp _de_camp
(applause). My good friends, again I thank you."[28]
This conduct was "unladylike," no doubt, but courageous; ungracious, but
absolutely necessary.
Seekamp, bruised and humiliated, thirsted for revenge. We find him
publishing a story of his conqueror's defeat in the _Ballaarat Times_. The
authority can hardly be regarded as unimpeachable, but with amusing
simplicity it has been accepted as such by all who have written about
Lola. According, then, to the ungallant Mr. Seekamp, the Countess of
Landsfeld was engaged by a manager, named Crosby--of what theatre is not
stated. At "treasury" the actress had a misunderstanding with this
gentleman, and flew into a violent rage. At this opportune moment a relief
force appeared in the person of Mrs. Crosby, armed with a whip. With this
she chastised Lola so severely that the weapon broke. The antagonists then
threw themselves upon each other, and the rest (says the delicately-minded
journalist) may be imagined rather than described. Mr. Seekamp's recent
experience should indeed have enabled him to imagine such a scene without
difficulty; in fact, he probably imagined this one. He concludes: "At last
this terrible virago has found, not her master, but her mistress, and for
many a long day will be incapable of performing at any theatre."
These words were written, possibly, while Lola was on her way to Europe.
She appears to have quitted Australia in March or April 1856. With her
arrival in France in August that year, she completed her trip round the
world.
XXXI
LOLA AS A LECTURER
We have no knowledge of the business that took Lola once more to France on
this occasion. She probably went there to spend, in the most agreeable way
possible, the considerable sums she had amassed in her Australian tour. It
may be supposed that she spent some time at Paris, renewing the
acquaintance of her old friends. Dumas, Mery, De Beauvoir, were all
living, and death had made few gaps in her circle of friends during the
past ten years. In August, Lola followed the fashionable crowd to the
southern watering-places, and stayed at St. Jean de Luz, within easy reach
of the imperial court at Biarritz. Hence she addressed this extraordinary
letter to the _Estafette_:--
"ST. JEAN DE LUZ, HOTEL DU CYGNE,
"_2nd September, 1856_.
"The Belgian newspapers, and some French ones, have asserted that the
suicide of the actor, Mauclerc, who, it is reported, has thrown
himself from the summits of the Pic du Midi, was caused by domestic
troubles for which I was responsible. This is a calumny which M.
Mauclerc himself will be ready to refute. We separated amicably, it is
true, after eight days of married life, but urged only by our common
and imperious need of personal liberty. It is probable that the
tragedy of the Pic du Midi exists only in the imagination of some
journalist on the look-out for sensational news. Trusting to your
sense of fairness to insert this explanation in your excellent
journal, I remain, yours, etc.,
LOLA MONTEZ."
This letter was copied by _La Presse_, which De Girardin still edited, and
was presently noticed by the person most interested. His reply was duly
published:--
"BAYONNE, _9th September, 1856_.
"SIR,--I read in your issue of the 7th. inst. a letter from Lola
Montez, wherein there is talk of a suicide of which I have been the
victim, and a marriage in which I have been principal actor. I am a
complete stranger to such catastrophes. I have never had the least
intention of throwing myself from the Pic du Midi, or from any other
peak, and I do not recollect having had the advantage of
marrying--even for eight days--the celebrated Countess of
Landsfeld,--Yours, etc.,
MAUCLERC."[29]
The simplest and most probable explanation of this affair is to set it
down as a hoax. Bayonne and St. Jean de Luz are neighbouring towns, and it
is possible that the actor had (perhaps unwittingly) incurred the anger of
the Countess, who devised this rather elaborate means of revenge.
Soon after, Lola returned to the United States, a country for which she
had conceived a strong liking. She considered it her home, says the Rev.
F. L. Hawks, and had a sincere admiration for its institutions. Lola was
by nature a republican, and intimacy with sovereigns had not much awakened
her distaste for them.
"To Freedom ever true, true, true,
All his long life was Harlequin!"
On 2nd February 1857 we find her fulfilling a week's engagement at the
Green Street Theatre at Albany, acting in _The Eton Boy_, _The Follies of
a Night_, and _Lola in Bavaria_. She was not unknown at the state capital,
having appeared there, with a _troupe_ of twelve dancers, at the Museum,
in May 1852. On the present occasion she gave another proof of her
dare-devil courage, by crossing the Hudson River in an open skiff among
the floating ice.
"She got over in safety, but part of her wardrobe was carried down
stream. By going to Troy she could have avoided all danger, but her
love of notoriety led her to offer a hundred dollars to be carried
across here."[30]
This recklessness may have proceeded from that want of interest in life,
that utter sense of desolation, which assailed her whenever she was not
distracted by travel and adventure. A lonely, disenchanted woman, without
any ties or hold on life, she found herself now on the verge of forty. Her
days for adventure had passed. At times she must have sighed for her home
among the Californian foothills. Surely it was wise and dignified, for one
who had exhausted her strength and vitality in the struggles of an
artificial society, to throw herself on the placid bosom of our common
mother? There, in time, she would have awakened to fuller comprehension of
man's place in the universe, and have learned at once the true value of
all her past actions, and the futility of remorse. But in New York no one
listened for the whisperings of Nature; instead, they fancied they heard
voices from some other world. Women who have lost their hold on life
readily give ear to visionaries: having exhausted the joys of this world,
they wish to test those of another. Lola became a believer in
spiritualism. The imagined touch of some fatuous phantom would thrill her
as no man's had power to do. One day she announced that the spirits had
directed her to abandon the stage, and to become a lecturer. Apparently,
however, she had no confidence in their ability to inspire her on the
platform, for she caused her lectures to be written by the Rev. C. Chauncy
Burr. At the _seances_ she seems to have been brought into touch (in two
senses) with several of the clergy of various Protestant denominations.
Her first lecture was delivered at a place of worship called the Hope
Chapel, 720 Broadway, New York, on 3rd February 1858.
"Lola Montez at Hope Chapel is good," chuckles a reporter. "It is
plain that the scent of the roses hangs round her still. We have heard
some queer things in that conventicle in our time, and have now and
then assisted at an entertainment there twice as funny, but not half
so intellectual nor half so wholesome, as the lecture our desperado in
dimity gave us last night."