BURSTING OF THE STORM
I
The beauty of Lola Montez was a lever. As such, it disturbed the
equilibrium of the Cabinet; for the time being, it even checked the
dominion of Rome. But the odds were against her. The Jesuits were
still a power, and would not brook any interference.
Metternich's wife, the Princess Mélanie, who had the family _flair_
for politics, marked the course of events.
"Lola Montes," she wrote, "has actually been created Countess of
Landsfeld. She is really a member of the Radical Party.... Rechberg,
who has just arrived from Brazil, was alarmed on his journey at Munich
by the events of which this town is the theatre. The shocking conduct
of Lola Montes will finish by plunging the country into revolution."
This was looking ahead. Still, not very far ahead. The correspondent
of a London paper in the Bavarian capital did not mince his words.
"The indignation," he wrote, "against the King on account of his
scandalous conduct, has been roused to the highest pitch.... King
Ludwig, who possesses many good qualities, is, unfortunately, a very
licentious old man.... Neither the tears of the Queen, nor the
entreaties of his sons, nor the public's indignation, could influence
the old monarch, who has become the slave of his silly passion and of
the caprices of a Spanish dancer and Parisian lorette."
Once more, Ludwig "dropped into verse," and relieved his feelings
about his enemies. This time, however, the verse was blank:
You have driven me from my Paradise,
You have closed it for ever with iron grilles.
You have turned my days into bitterness.
You would even like to make me hate you
Because I have loved too much to please your withered spirits.
The perfume of my spring-time is dissipated,
But my courage still remains.
Youth, always bounding in my dreams, rests there,
Embracing my heart with fresh force!
You who would like to see me covered with shame,
Tremble!
You have committed sins against me and vomited injuries.
Your wicked acts have judged you.
There has never been anything to equal them!
Already the clouds disappear;
The storm passes;
The sky lights up;
I bless the dawn.
Ungrateful worms, creep back to your darkness!
There were repercussions across the Atlantic, where the role played by
Lola Montez in Bavarian circles was arousing considerable interest.
American women saw in it a message of encouragement for the
aspirations they themselves were cherishing. "The moral indignation
which her political opponents exhibited," said a leading jurist, "was
unfortunately a mere sham. They had not only tolerated, but had
actually patronised, a female who formerly held the equivocal position
which the Countess of Landsfeld recently held, because the former made
herself subservient to the then dominant party."
But, just as Lola had staunch friends in Munich, so had she pronounced
enemies. Conspicuous among them was Johann Görres, a leading
Ultramontane who held the position of professor of history at the
University. He could not say anything strong enough against the King's
mistress, and did all he could to upset her influence with him. As he
had a "following," some measure of success attended his efforts. It
was on his death, in January 1848, that matters came to a head. The
rival factions dividing the various students' corps made his funeral
the occasion of a free fight among themselves. The mob joined in, and
clamoured for the dismissal of the "Andalusian Woman." A hothead
suggested that she should be driven from the town. The cry was taken
up, and a rush set in towards her house in the Barerstrasse. As there
was an agreeable prospect of loot, half the scum of the city swelled
the mob. Bricks were hurled through the windows; and, until the police
arrived, things began to look ugly.
Lola, as cool as a cucumber, appeared on the balcony, a glass of
champagne in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other.
"I drink to your good healths," she said contemptuously, as she
drained her glass and tossed bon-bons among the crowd.
Not appreciating this gesture, or regarding it as an impertinence, the
temper of the rabble grew threatening. They shouted vulgar insults;
and there was talk of battering in the doors and setting the house on
fire. This might have happened, had not Ludwig himself, who never
lacked personal courage, plunged into the throng and, offering Lola
his arm, escorted her to the Residenz.
The disturbances continued, for tempers had reached fever pitch.
Troops hastily summoned from the nearest barracks patrolled the
streets. A furious crowd assembled in front of the Rathaus; the
burgomaster, fearing for his position, talked of reading the Riot Act;
a number of arrests were made; and it was not until the next afternoon
that the coast was sufficiently clear for Lola to return to the
Barerstrasse, triumphantly escorted by some members of the Alemannia.
When, however, they left her there, they were set upon by detachments
of the Palatia Corps, who still cherished a grudge against them.
Lola's own account of these happenings, and written as if by a
detached onlooker, is picturesque, if somewhat imaginative:
"They came with cannons and guns and swords, with the voices
of ten thousand devils, and surrounded her little castle.
Against the entreaties of her friends, she presented herself
before the infuriated mob which demanded her life.... A
thousand guns were pointed at her, and a hundred fat and
apoplectic voices fiercely demanded that she should cause
the repeal of what she had done. In language of great
mildness--for it was no time to scold--she answered that it
was impossible for her to accede to such a request; and that
what had been done by her had been done for the good of the
people and the honour of Bavaria."
After this "demonstration," there was a calm. But not for long. On the
evening of February 10, a rabble assembled in front of the Palace,
raising cries of: "Down with Lola Montez!" "Down with the King's
strumpet!" As the protestors consisted largely of students (whom
Thiersch, the rector, being no disciplinarian, could not keep in
check), Ludwig's response was drastic. He ordered the University to be
shut, and all its members who did not live in Munich to leave the town
within twenty-four hours. This was a tactical blunder, and was in
great measure responsible for the more serious repercussions of the
following month. Apart, too, from other considerations, the edict hit
the pockets of the local tradesmen, since the absence of a couple of
thousand hungry and thirsty customers had an adverse effect on the
consumption of sauerkraut and beer.
As she was still "news" in Paris, a gossiping columnist suggested her
return there:
Lola Montez laments the Notre-Dame de Lorette district, the
joyous little supper-parties at the Café Anglais, and the
theatrical first nights viewed from stage boxes. "Ah," she
must reflect, as she looks upon her coronet trodden
underfoot and hears the sinister murmurs of the Munich mob,
"how delightful Paris would be this evening! What a grand
success I would be in the new ballet at the Opera or at a
ball at the Winter Garden!" Alas, my poor Lola, your whip is
broken; your prestige is gone; you have lost your talisman.
Do not battle against the jealous Bavarians. Come back to
Paris, instead. If the Porte St. Martin won't have you, you
can always rejoin the corps de ballet at the Opera.
Lola, however, did not accept the invitation. She was virtually a
prisoner in her own house, where, the next afternoon, a furious
gathering assembled, threatening to wreak vengeance on her. Never
lacking a high measure of courage, she appeared on the balcony and
told them to do their worst. They did it and attempted to effect an
entrance by breaking down the door. But for the action of the
Alemannia, rallying to her help, she might have been severely handled.
One of her bodyguard managed to make his way to the nearest barracks
and summon assistance. Thereupon, the bugles rang out the alarm; the
drums beat a warning call. In response, a squadron of Cuirassiers
clattered up the Barerstrasse; sabres rattled; and the rioters fled
precipitously.
Prince Wallerstein, who combined the office of Minister of Public
Worship with that of Treasurer of the Royal Household, leaping into
the breach, harangued the mob; and Prince Vrede, a strong adherent to
the "whiff of grapeshot" remedy for a disturbance, suggested firing on
the ringleaders. Although the suggestion was not accepted, hundreds of
arrests were made before some semblance of order was restored. But the
rioting was only checked temporarily. A couple of days later it
started afresh. The temper of the troops being upset, Captain Bauer (a
young officer whom Lola had patronised) took it upon himself to give
them the word to charge. Sabres flashed, and there were many broken
heads and a good deal of bloodshed.
The Alemannia, thinking discretion the better part of valour,
barricaded themselves in the restaurant of one Herr Rothmanner, where
they fortified themselves with vast quantities of beer. Becoming
quarrelsome, their leader, Count Hirschberg, drew his sword and was
threatened with arrest by a schutzmannschaft. Thereupon, his comrades
sent word to Lola. She answered the call, and rushed to the house. It
was a characteristic, but mad, gesture, for she was promptly
recognised and pursued by a furious mob. Nobody would give her
sanctuary; and the Swiss Guards on duty there shut the doors of the
Austrian Legation in her face. Thereupon, she fled to the Theatiner
Church, where she took refuge. But she did not stop there long; and,
for her own safety, a military escort arrived to conduct her to the
main guard-room. As soon as the coast was comparatively clear, she was
smuggled out by a back entrance and making her way on foot to the
Barerstrasse, hid in the garden.
In the meantime fresh attempts were being made to storm her house.
Suddenly, a figure, dishevelled and bare-headed, appeared on the
threshold and confronted the rioters.
"You are behaving like a pack of vulgar blackguards," he exclaimed,
"and not like true Bavarians at all. I give you my word, the house is
empty. Leave it in peace."
A gallant gesture, and a last act of homage to the building that had
sheltered the woman he loved. The mob, recognising the speaker,
uncovered instinctively. _Heil, unserm König, Heil!_ they shouted. A
chorus swelled; the troops presented arms.
"It is an orgy of ingratitude," said Ludwig, as he watched the rabble
dancing with glee before the house. "The Jesuits are responsible. If
my Lola had been called Loyala, she could still have stopped here."
To Dr. Stahl, Bishop of Wurzburg, who had criticised his conduct, he
addressed himself more strongly. "Should a single hair of one I hold
dear to me be injured," he informed that prelate, "I shall exhibit no
mercy."
Palmerston, who stood no nonsense from anybody, wrote a very snappy
letter to Sir John Milbanke, British Minister at Munich:
"Pray tell Prince Wallerstein that, if he wishes the British
and Bavarian Governments to be on good terms, he will
abstain from any attempt to interfere with our diplomatic
arrangements, as such attempts on his part are as offensive
as they will be fruitless."
II
As Ludwig had said, the Barerstrasse nest was empty, for its occupant
had managed to slip out of it and reach Lindeau. From there, on
February 23, she wrote a long letter to a friend in England, giving a
somewhat highly coloured (and not altogether accurate) version of
these happenings:
In the morning, the nobles, with Count A.--V--[Arco Valley]
and a number of officers, were mixed up with the commonest
people. The Countess P [Preysing] I saw myself, with other
women--I cannot call them _ladies_--actually at their head.
Hearing that the entire city--with nobles, officers, and
countesses--were making for my residence, I looked upon
myself as already out of the land of the living. I had all
my windows shuttered, and hid all my jewels; and then,
having a clear conscience and a firm trust in God, calmly
awaited my fate. The ruffians, egged on by a countess and a
baroness, had stones, sticks, axes, and firearms, all to
frighten and kill one poor inoffensive woman! They
positively clamoured for my blood.
I must tell you that all my faithful and devoted servants,
with some others of my real friends, were in the house with
me. I begged them to leave by the garden, but they said,
poor fellows, they would die for me.
... Seeing the eminent danger of my friends, and not
thinking of myself, I ordered my carriage while the
blackguards were endeavouring to break down the gates. My
good George, the coachman, helped me to rush through the
door and we set off at a furious gallop. Many pistol shots
were fired at me, but I was in God's care and avoided the
bullets.
My escape was most miraculous. At a distance of two hours
from Munich I left my carriage and in Bluthenberg sought the
protection of a brave honest man, by whom I was given
shelter. Presently, some officers galloped up and demanded
me. My benefactor declared I was not there, and his
daughters said my carriage had passed. When they were gone,
his good wife helped me to dress as a peasant girl, and I
rushed out of the house, across fields, ditches, and
forests. Being so well disguised, I resolved to return to
Munich. It was a dreadful spectacle. The Palace blockaded;
buildings plundered; and anarchy in all directions. Seeing
nothing but death if I stopped there, I left for Lindeau,
from whence I am writing to you.
... Count Arco Valley has been distributing money like dirt
to all classes, and the priests have stirred up the mob.
Nobody is safe in Munich. The good, noble King has told
everyone he will never leave me. Of that he is quite
determined. The game is not up. I shall, till death, stick
to the King; but God knows what will happen next.
I forgot to tell you that my enemies have announced in the
German papers that the students are my _lovers_! They could
not credit them with the loyal devotion they have ever had
for the King and myself.
MARIE DE LANDSFELD.
Writing in his diary on March 14, 1848, Frederick Cavendish, a budding
diplomatist, whom Palmerston had appointed as attaché at Vienna,
remarks:
"There has been the devil of a disturbance in Munich; and
the King's mistress, Lola Montez, has been forced to fly for
her life. She has been the curse of Bavaria, yet the King is
still infatuated with her."
Scarcely diplomatic language. Still, not far from the truth.
A rigorous press censorship was exercised. The Munich papers had to
print what they were told, and nothing else. As a result, an inspired
article appeared in the _Allegemeine Zeitung_, of Augsburg, declaring
that the Ultramontanes were responsible for the _émeute_. "Herr von
Abel," in the opinion of a colleague, Heinrich von Treitsche, "took
advantage of the opportunity to espouse a sudden championship of
morals, and made _les convenances_ an excuse for resigning what had
long been to him a dangerous office."
Döllinger himself always declared that he became an Ultramontane
against his will, and that he only joined the Ministry at the earnest
request of von Abel. This was probably true enough, for he was much
happier among his books than among the politicians. With his nose
decidedly out of joint, he relieved his feelings in a lengthy epistle
to his friend, Madame Rio. Years afterwards this letter came into the
hands of Dom Gougaud, O.S.B., who published it in the _Irish
Ecclesiastical Record_. Among the more important passages were the
following:
Since you left M[unich] the impudence of L[ola] M[ontez] and
the infatuation of her admirers have been constantly
increasing. Our Members of Parliament, which have been
convocated to an extraordinary session on account of a
railway loan, did not dare, or did not deem it expedient, to
interfere. The only thing that was done, but without
producing any effect in high quarters, was that the Chamber
of Deputies unanimously voted a protestation against the
deposition of the professors. Then came the change of
Ministers. Prince Wallerstein, who is a sort of Bavarian
Thiers, selfish and unprincipled, only bent upon maintaining
himself in the possession of the _portefeuille_, which is
the glorious end that in his estimation sanctifies the
means--this man of unscrupulous memory came in again,
together with an obscure individual, a mere creature of
L[ola] M[ontez], M. Berks.
[Illustration: _King of Bavaria. "Ludwig the Lover"_]
... Meanwhile the crisis was brought about by the students
of the University. L[ola] M[ontez] had succeeded in seducing
a few of these, who, finding themselves immediately shunned
and rejected by their fellow-students, formed a separate
society or club, calling itself _Alemannia_, which from its
beginning was publicly understood to be distinguished by
the King's special favour and protection. In the course of
two or three months they rose to the number of nineteen or
twenty, easily recognised by the red caps and ribbons they
wore. For L[ola] M[ontez] they formed a sort of male harem,
and the particulars which have since transpired, and which,
of course, I must not pollute your ears with, leave no doubt
that she is a second Messalina.
The indignation of the students, who felt all this as a
degradation of the University and an affront cast upon their
character, was general. The _Alemanni_ were treated as
outcasts, whose very presence was pollution.
... L[ola] M[ontez] had already been heard threatening that
if the students continued to show themselves hostile to her
favourites she would have the University closed. At last, on
the 10th February, a royal mandate came forth, declaring the
University to be suspended for the entire year.
Next morning it was evident that a decisive crisis was
coming on; the students paraded in procession through the
streets, when, suddenly, the _gendarmerie_, commanded by one
of L. M.'s favourites, made an attack upon them and wounded
two of them. This, of course, served only to kindle the
flames of general indignation. The citizens threatened to
appear in arms, and the people made preparations for
storming the house of L[ola] M[ontez].
Towards 8 o'clock in the morning of the 11th, the appalling
intelligence was communicated to the K[ing] that L. M.'s
life was in imminent danger. Meanwhile several members of
the royal family had tried to make an impression on the K.'s
mind. When his own tools, who, up to that moment, had been
pushing him on, told him that L.'s life was in jeopardy, and
that the regiments refused to fight, he began to yield. But
even then his behaviour left no doubt that the personal
safety of L[ola] M[ontez] was his paramount motive. He
himself ran to her house, which the mob had begun to pluck
down; regardless of all royal dignity, he exposed his person
to all the humiliation which the intercourse with an
infuriated mob might subject him to.... Certainly, that day
was the most disgraceful royalty has yet had in Bavaria.
... You will find it natural that the first announcement of
L.M.'s forced departure begot universal exultation. In the
streets one met only smiling countenances; new hopes were
kindled. People wished, and therefore believed, that the
K[ing] having at last become aware of the true state of the
nation's mind, had made a noble sacrifice. A few days were
sufficient to undeceive them. The K.'s mind was in a sort of
fearful excitement, alternating between fits of depression
and thoughts of vengeance.... It is impossible to foresee
what things will lead to, and where the persecution is to
stop. The opinion gains credit that his intention is to
bring L[ola] M[ontez] back. Evidently he is acting, not only
from a thirst for vengeance, but also under the fatal
influence of an irresistible and sinister passion for that
woman.
A few days later, Ludwig, to test public opinion, went to the Opera.
"I have lost my taste for spectacles," he said to his companion, "but
I wish to see if I am still King in the hearts of the people I have
served."
He was not long in doubt, for the moment he entered his box the
audience stood up and cheered him vigorously. This was enough; and,
without waiting for the curtain to rise, he returned to the Palace.
"After all, my subjects still trust me," he said. "I was sure of
them."
III
There was another display of loyalty elsewhere. The Munich garrison,
under Ludwig's second son, Prince Luitpold, took a fresh oath _en
masse_, swearing fidelity to the new constitution. It was, however, a
little late in the day. Things had gone too far; and Lola, who had
merely gone a few leagues from the capital, had not gone far enough.
That was the trouble. She was still able to pull strings, and to make
her influence felt in various directions. Nor would she show the white
feather or succumb to the threats of rowdies.
It was from Lindeau that, disguised as a boy (then a somewhat more
difficult job than now), Lola, greatly daring, ventured back to the
arms of Ludwig. But she only stopped with him a couple of hours, for
she had been followed, and was still being hunted by the rabble of the
town. Before, however, resuming her journey, she endeavoured to get
into touch with her faithful _Alemannia_. "I beg you," she wrote to
the proprietor of the café they frequented, "to tell me where Herr
Peissner has gone." The landlord, fearing reprisals, withheld the
knowledge. If he had given it, he would probably have had his premises
wrecked. Safety first!
In this juncture, Ludwig, acting like a mental deficient, announced
that there was only one adequate explanation for Lola's conduct. This
was that she was "possessed of an evil spirit" which had to be
exorcised before things should get worse. Lending a ready ear to every
quack in Bavaria, he sent her under escort to Weinsberg, to the clinic
of a Dr. Justinus Kerner, who had established himself there as a
mesmerist.
"You are to drive the devil out of her," were the instructions given
him.
Fearing that his spells and incantations might, after all, not prove
effective, and thus convict him for a charlatan, the man of science
felt uneasy. Still, an order was an order, especially when it came
from a King, and he promised to do his best. On the day that his
patient arrived, he wrote to his married daughter, Emma Niendorf. A
free translation of this letter, which is given in full by Dr. von Tim
Klein (in his _Der Vorkamfdeutscher Einheit und Freiheit_), would
read:
Yesterday there arrived here Lola Montez; and, until further
instructions come from Munich, I am detaining her in my
tower, where guard is being kept by three of the
_Alemannia_. That the King should have selected me of all
people to send her to is most annoying. But he was assured
that she was possessed of a devil, and that the devil in her
could be driven out by me at Weinsberg. Still, the case is
one of interest.
As a preliminary to my magneto-magic treatment, I am
beginning by subjecting her to a fasting-cure. This means
that every day all she is to have is a quarter of a wafer
and thirteen drops of raspberry juice.
"_Sage es aber niemanden! Verbrenne diesen Brief!_" ("But don't tell
anybody about it; burn this letter") was the exorcist's final
injunction.
To live up to his reputation for wonder-working, the mystic had an
Æolian harp in each of the windows of his house, so arranged that
Ariel-like voices would float through the summer breezes.
"It is magic," said the peasants, crossing themselves devoutly when
they heard the sound.
But the harp-obligato proved no more effective than the reduced
dieting and early attempt to popularise slimming. After a couple of
days, accordingly, the regime was varied by the substitution of asses'
milk for the raspberry juice. Much to his annoyance, however, the
specialist had to report to another correspondent, Sophie Schwab, that
his patient was not deriving any real benefit, and that the
troublesome "devil" had not been dislodged.
As was to be expected, Lola, having a healthy appetite and objecting
to short rations, gave the mesmerist the slip and hurried back to her
Ludwig. After a few words with him, she left for Stahrenberg.
Ludwig sat down and wrote another "poem." Appropriately enough, this
was entitled "Lamentation."