ODYSSEY
I
Notwithstanding the tie of alleged parenthood, domestic relations
between them did not improve, and the couple soon parted. The
knowledge that she was still "wanted" there kept Lola out of England.
Instead, she went to Paris, where such unpleasantnesses as warrants
could not touch her. There she was given a warm welcome, by old
friends and new.
During this visit to Paris an unaccustomed set-back was experienced.
She received it from Émile de Girardin, of whom she endeavoured to
make a conquest. But this "wild-eyed, pale-faced man of letters," as
she called him, would have none of her. Perhaps he remembered what had
befallen Dujarier.
As was to be expected, the coming among them of Lola Montez attracted
the attention of the _courrierists_, who earned many welcome francs by
filling columns with details of her career. What they did not know
about it they invented. They knew very little. Thus, one such article
(appropriately signed "Fantasio") read as follows:
"Madame Lola Montez, who is now happily returned to us, is
the legitimate spouse of Sir Thomas James, an officer of the
English Army. Milord Sir James loved to drink and the
beautiful Lola loved to flirt. A wealthy Prince of Kabul was
willing to possess her for her weight in gold and gems. Up
till now, her principal love affairs have been with Don
Enriquez, a Spaniard, Brûle-Tout, a well-developed French
mariner, and John, a phlegmatic Englishman. One day Sir
James bet that he could drink three bottles of brandy in
twenty minutes. While he was thus occupied, the amorous Lola
made love to three separate gallants."
"It will doubtless," added a second, "be gratifying to her
pride to queen it again in Paris, where she was once hissed
off the stage. There she will at any rate now be received at
the Bavarian Embassy, and exhibit the Order of Maria
Theresa. She was invested with this to the considerable
scandal of the Munich nobility, who cannot swallow the idea
of such a distinction being bestowed on a dancer."
This sort of thing and a great deal more in a similar strain, was
accepted as gospel by its readers. But for those who wished her ill,
any lie was acceptable. Thus, although there was not a scrap of
evidence to connect her with the incident, a paragraph, headed "Lola
Again?" was published in the London papers:
Yesterday afternoon an extraordinary scene was witnessed by
the promenaders in the Champs Elysées. Two fashionably
attired ladies, driving in an elegant equipage, were heard
to be employing language that was anything but refined. From
words to blows, for suddenly they began to assault one
another with vigorous smacks. The toilettes and faces of the
fair contestants were soon damaged; and, loud cries of
distress being uttered, the carriage was stopped, and,
attracted by the fracas, some gentlemen hurried to render
assistance. As a result of their interference, one of the
damsels was expelled from the vehicle, and the other ordered
the coachman to drive her to her hotel. This second lady is
familiar to the public by reason of her adventures in
Bavaria.
Albert Vandam, a singularly objectionable type of journalist, who
professed to be on intimate terms with everybody in Paris worth
knowing, has a number of offensive and unjustifiable allusions to Lola
Montez at this period of her career. He talks of her "consummate
impudence," of her "pot-house wit," and of her "grammatical errors,"
and dubs her, among other things, "this almost illiterate schemer."
"Lola Montez," says the egregious Vandam, "could not make friends." He
was wrong. This was just what she could do. She made many staunch and
warm-hearted friends. It was because she snubbed him on account of his
pushfulness that Vandam elected to belittle her.
Lola Montez chose her friends for their disposition, not for their
virtue. One of them was George Sand, "the possessor of the largest
mind and the smallest foot in Paris." She also became intimate with
Alphonsine Plessis, and constantly visited the future "Lady of the
Camelias" in her _appartement_ on the Boulevard de la Madeleine.
Another _habitué_ there at this period was Lola's old Dresden flame,
the Abbé Liszt, who, not confining his attentions to the romanticists,
had no compunction about poaching on the preserves of Dumas _fils_,
or, for that matter, of anybody else. As for the fair, but frail,
Alphonsine, she said quite candidly that she was "perfectly willing to
become his mistress, if he wanted it, but was not prepared to share
the position." As Liszt had other ideas on the subject, the suggestion
came to nothing.
Some years afterwards, one of his pupils, an American young woman, Amy
Fay, took his measure in a book, _Music-study in Germany_:
"Liszt," she wrote, "is the most interesting and striking-looking man
imaginable. Tall and slight, with deep-set eyes, shaggy eyebrows and
long iron-grey hair which he wears parted in the middle. His mouth
turns up at the corners, which gives him a most crafty and
Mephistophelean expression when he smiles, and his whole appearance
and manner have a sort of Jesuitical elegance and ease."
Before she set out on this journey, Lola wrote to an acquaintance:
"What makes men and women distinguished is their individuality; and it
is for that I will conquer or die!" Of this quality, she had enough
and to spare. Her Paris life was hectic; or, as the Boulevardiers put
it, _elle faisait la bombe_.
Among the tit-bits of gossip served up by a reporter was the
following:
"Lola is constantly giving tea-parties in her Paris flat. A
gentleman who is frequently bidden to them tells us that her
masculine guests are restricted to such as have left their
wives, and that the feminine guests consist of ladies who
have left their husbands."
An Englishman whom she met at this time was Savile Morton, a friend of
Thackeray and Tennyson. One night when she was giving a supper-party,
a fellow-guest, Roger de Beauvoir, happened to read to the company
some verses he had written. The hostess, on the grounds of their
alleged "coarseness," complained to Morton that she had been insulted.
As a result, Morton, being head over ears in love with her, sent de
Beauvoir a challenge. Lola, however, having had enough of duels, took
care that nothing should come of it; and insisted that an apology
should be given and accepted.
At one time she was optimistic enough to take a villa at Beaujon on a
fifteen years' lease, and had it refurnished in sumptuous fashion on
credit. The first two instalments of the rent were met. When, however,
the landlord called to collect the third one, he was put off with the
excuse that: "Mr. Heald was away and had forgotten to send the money,
but would be back in a week." This story might have been accepted, had
not the landlord discovered that his tenant was planning to leave
surreptitiously and that some of the furniture had already been
removed. As a result, a body of indignant tradesmen, accompanied by
the Maire of the district, in tricoloured sash and wand of office
complete, betook themselves to the villa and demanded a settlement of
accounts for goods delivered. This time they were told that the money
had arrived, but that the key of the box in which it had been
deposited for safety was lost. Assuring them that she would fetch a
locksmith, Lola slipped out of the house, and, stepping into a
waiting cab, drove off to a new address near the Étoile. This was the
last that the creditors saw of her.
In January, 1851, Lola, setting an example that has since then become
much more common among theatrical ladies, compiled her "memoirs." When
the editor of _Le Pays_ undertook to publish them in his columns, a
rival editor, jealous of the "scoop," referred to their author as
"Madame James, once Madame Heald, formerly Mlle Lola Montez, and for
nearly a quarter of an hour the Countess of Landsfeld."
The work was dedicated to her old patron, King Ludwig, with a florid
_avant-propos_:
Sire: In publishing my memoirs, my purpose is to reveal to a
world still engulfed in a vulgar materialism Your Majesty's
lofty thoughts about art, poetry, and philosophy. The
inspiration of this book, Sire, is due to yourself, and to
those other remarkable men whom Fortune--always the
protector of my younger years--has given me as councillors
and friends.
Lola must have written with more candour than tact. At any rate, after
the first three chapters had appeared, the editor of _Le Pays_, on the
grounds that they would "shock his purer readers," refused to continue
the series. "We positively decline," he announced, "to sully our
columns further."
II
Authorship having thus proved a failure, Lola, swallowing her
disappointment, directed her thoughts to her old love, the ballet. To
this end, she placed herself in the hands of a M. Roux; and, a number
of engagements having been secured by him, she began a provincial tour
at Bordeaux. By the time it was completed the star and her manager
were on such bad terms that, when they got back to Paris, the latter
was dismissed. Thereupon, he hurried off to a notary, and brought an
action against his employer, claiming heavy damages.
According to Maître Desmaret, his client, M. Roux, had been engaged in
the capacity of _pilote intermédiare_ during a prospective tour in
Europe and America. For his services he was to have 25 per cent of the
box-office receipts. On this understanding he had accompanied his
principal to a number of towns. He then returned to Paris; and while
he was negotiating there for the defendant's appearance at the
Vaudeville, he suddenly discovered that she was planning to go to
America without him. As a result, he was now claiming damages for
breach of contract. These he laid at the modest figure of 10,000
francs.
M. Blot-Lequesne, on behalf of Lola Montez, had a somewhat different
story to tell. The plaintiff himself, he declared, wanted to get out
of the contract and had deliberately disregarded its terms. His
client, he said, had authorised him to accept an engagement for her to
dance six times a week; but, in his anxiety to make additional profit
for himself, he had compelled her to dance six times a day. Apart from
this, he had "signally failed to respect her dignity as a woman, and
had invented ridiculous stories about her career." He had even done
worse, for, "without her knowledge or sanction, he had compiled and
distributed among the audiences where she appeared an utterly
preposterous biography of his employer." This, among other matters,
asserted that she had "lived and danced for eleven years in China and
Persia; and that she had been befriended by the dusky King of Nepaul,
as well as by numerous rajahs."
The concluding passage from this effort was read to the judge:
"Ten substantial volumes would be filled with the chronicle of the
eccentricities of Mlle Lola Montez, and much of them would still be
left unsaid. In the year 1847 a great English lord married her in
London. Unfortunately, they found themselves not in sympathy, and in
1850 she returned to the dreams of her spring-time. The Countess has
now completed one half of her projected tour. In November she leaves
France for America and--well--God only knows what will happen
then!"
[Illustration: _A "Belle of the Boulevards." Lola Montez in Paris_]
"As long," said counsel, "as the amiable Mlle Montez was treated by M.
Roux like a wild animal exhibited at a country fair, she merely
shrugged her shoulders in disgust. When, however, she saw how this
abominable pamphlet lifted the curtain from her private life, it was
another thing altogether. She expressed womanly indignation, and made
a spirited response."
"What was that?" enquired the judge, with interest.
"She said: 'It is lucky for you, sir, that my husband is not here to
protect me. If he were, he would certainly pull your nose!'"
As was inevitable, this expression of opinion shattered the _entente_,
and the manager returned to Paris by himself. Hearing nothing from
him, Lola Montez thought that she was at liberty to make her own
plans, and had accordingly arranged the American tour without his
help.
On November 6, 1851, continued counsel, Lola Montez arrived in Paris,
telling M. Roux that she would leave for America on November 20, but
that she would fulfil any engagement he secured during the interval.
Just before she was ready to start he said he had got her one, but he
would not tell her where it was or produce any written contract.
Accepting this version as the correct one, the Court pronounced
judgment in favour of Lola Montez.
III
M. Roux having thus been dismissed with a flea in his ear, Lola, on
the advice of Peter Goodrich, the American consul in Paris, next
engaged Richard Storrs Willis (a brother of N. P. Willis, the American
poet) to look after her business affairs, and left Europe for America.
As the good ship _Humbolt_, by which she was sailing, warped into
harbour at New York, a salute of twenty-one guns thundered from the
Battery. Lola, mightily pleased, took this expenditure of ammunition
as a tribute to herself. When, however, she discovered that it was
really to herald the coming of Louis Kossuth, who also happened to be
on board, she registered annoyance and retired to her cabin, to nurse
her wrath. A Magyar patriot to be more honoured than an English
ex-favourite of a King! What next?
"A gentleman travelling with her informed our representative," said
the _New York Herald_, "that Madame had declared Kossuth to be a great
humbug. The Countess was a prodigious favourite among the masculine
passengers during the voyage, and continually kept them in roars of
laughter."
But, if disappointed in one respect, Lola derived a measure of
compensation from the fact that the bevy of reporters who met the
vessel found her much more interesting than the stranger from Hungary.
"Madame Lola Montez," remarked one of them, who had gone off with a
bulging note-book, crammed with enough "copy" to fill a column, "says
that a number of shocking falsehoods about her have been published in
our journals. Yet she insists she is not the woman she is credited (or
discredited) with being. If she were, her admirers, she thinks, would
be still more plentiful than they are. She expresses herself as
fearful that she will not have proper consideration in New York; but
she trusts that the great American public will suspend judgment until
they have made her acquaintance."
"The Countess of Landsfeld, who is now among us," adds a second
scribe, "owes more to the brilliancy of intellect with which Heaven
has gifted her than to her world-wide celebrity as an artiste. Her
person and bearing are unmistakably aristocratic. If we may credit the
stories which from time to time have reached us, she can, if
necessary, use her riding-whip in vigorous fashion about the ears of
any offending biped or quadruped. In America she is somewhat out of
her latitude. Paris should be her real home."
For the present, however, Lola decided to stop where she was.
While she was in America on this tour, Barnum wanted to be her
impresario, and promised "special terms." Despite, however, the lure
of "having her path garlanded with flowers and her carriage drawn by
human hands from hotel to theatre," the offer was not accepted.
The New York début of Lola Montez was made on December 29, 1851, in a
ballet: _Betly, the Tyrolean_. Public excitement ran high, for
appetites had been whetted by the sensational accounts of her "past"
with which the papers were filled.
"Scandal does not necessarily create a great dancer," declared one
rigid critic; and a second had a long column, headed: "MONTEZ _v._
RESPECTABILITY," in which he observed (thoughtfully supplying a
translation): "_Parturiunt_ MONTEZ, _nascitur ridiculus mus_." All the
same, the box-office reported record business. As a result, prices
were doubled, and the seats put up to auction.
If she had her enemies in the press, Lola also had her champions
there. Just before she arrived, one of them, a New York paper, took up
the cudgels on her behalf in vigorous fashion:
The most funny proceeding that is going on in this town is
the terrible to-do that is being made about Lola Montez. If
this state of things continues we will guarantee a
continuance of the fun after Lola makes her advent among us,
for if she doesn't properly horse-whip those squeamish
gentlemen we are much mistaken in her character.
Now we want to call the attention of our fair-minded readers
to a few other matters that are sure to occur. Here are the
various papers pouring out a torrent of abuse on Lola. What
will it all amount to? In a few weeks she will land. In a
few weeks a popular theatre will be occupied by her, and
tens of thousands will throng that theatre. The manager will
reap a fortune, and so will Lola Montez; and those
short-sighted conductors of the Press will be begging for
tickets and quarrelling among themselves as to who can say
the most extravagant things in her favour. Public curiosity
will be gratified at any price; and if Lola Montez is a
capital dancer she will soon dance down all opposition. With
what grace can the public talk about virtue in a public
actress, when they have followed in the wake of an ELSSLER?
If the private character of a public actress is to be the
criterion by which to judge of her professional merit, then
half the theatres would be compelled to shut their doors.
We are as independently correct as any other paper that
exists. We don't care a straw whether we go on with or
without the other newspapers. We will do justice and say
what is true, regardless of popularity. We detest hypocrisy;
and we have no disposition to make a mountain out of a
molehill, or to see a mote in the eye of Lola Montez, and
not discover a beam in the eye of Fanny Elssler, or of any
of the other great dancers or actresses.
"What is Lola Montez?" enquire the public. A good dancer,
says the manager of a theatre. She is also notorious. The
public will crowd the theatre to see her and to judge
whether she is not also a good actress; and if they get
their money's worth, they are satisfied. They do not pay to
judge of the former history of Lola Montez.... A few
squeamish people cannot prevent Lola Montez from creating a
sensation here, or from crowding from pit to dome any house
where she may appear; and, as they will be the first to
endorse her success, they would be more consistent were they
to let her alone until she secures it.
None the less, there was competition to meet. A great deal of
competition, for counter-attractions were being offered in all
directions. Thus, "Professor" Anderson was conjuring rabbits out of
borrowed top hats; Thackeray was lecturing on "The English
Humourists"; Macready was bellowing and posturing in Shakespeare;
General Tom Thumb was exhibiting his lack of inches; and Mrs. Bloomer
was advancing the cause of "Trousers for Women!" Still, Lola more than
held her own as a "draw."
In January the bill was changed to _Diana and the Nymphs_. The fact
that some of the "Nymphs" supporting the star adopted a costume a
little suggestive of modern nudism appears to have upset a feminine
critic.
"When," was her considered opinion, "a certain piece first presented a
partly unclothed woman to the gaze of a crowded auditory, she was met
with a gasp of astonishment at the effrontery which dared so much. Men
actually grew pale at the boldness of the thing; young girls hung
their heads; a death-like silence fell over the house. But it passed;
and, in view of the fact that these women were French ballet-dancers,
they were tolerated."
To show that she was properly qualified to express her views on such a
delicate matter, this censor added: "Belonging, root and branch, to a
theatrical family, I have not on that account been deemed unworthy to
break bread at an imperial table, nor to grasp the hand of friendship
extended to me by an English lordly divine."
By the way, on this subject of feminine attire (or the lack of it) a
rigid standard was also applicable to the audience's side of the
curtain, and any departure from it met with reprisals. This is made
clear by a shocked paragraph chronicling one such happening at another
theatre:
"During the evening of our visit there transpired an
occurrence to which we naturally have some delicacy in
alluding. Since, however, it indicates a censorship in a
quarter where refinement is perhaps least to be expected, it
should not be suffered by us to pass unnoticed. In the
stalls, which were occupied by a number of ladies and
gentlemen in full evening costume, and of established social
position, there was to be observed a woman whose remarkable
lowness of corsage attracted much criticism. Indeed, it
obviously scandalised the audience, among the feminine
portion of which a painful sensation was abundantly
perceptible. At last, their indignation found tangible
expression; and a voice from the pit was heard to utter in
measured accents a stern injunction that could apply to but
one individual. Blushing with embarrassment, the offender
drew her shawl across her uncovered shoulders. A few minutes
later, she rose and left the house, amid well merited hisses
from the gallery, and significant silence from the outraged
occupants of the stalls and boxes."
Decorum was one thing; _décolletage_ was another. In the considered
opinion of 1851 the two did not blend.
A certain Dr. Judd, who, in the intervals of his medical practice, was
managing a Christy Minstrels entertainment at this period, has some
recollections of Lola Montez. "Many a long chat," he says, "I had with
her in our little bandbox of a ticket-office. Thackeray's _Vanity
Fair_ was being read in America just then, and Lola expressed to me
great anger that the novelist should have put her into it as Becky
Sharp. 'If he had only told the truth about me,' she said, 'I should
not have cared, but he derived his inspiration from my enemies in
England.'"
This item appears to have been unaccountably missed by Thackeray's
other historians.
IV
Lola's tastes were distinctly "Bohemian," and led her, while in New
York, to be a constant visitor at Pfaff's underground _delicatessen_
café, then a favourite haunt of the literary and artistic worlds of
the metropolis. There she mingled with such accepted celebrities as
Walt Whitman, W. Dean Howells, Commodore Vanderbilt, and that other
flashing figure, Adah Isaacs Menken. She probably found in Pfaff's a
certain resemblance to the Munich beer-halls with which she had been
familiar. A bit of the Fatherland, as it were, carried across the
broad Atlantic. German solids and German liquids; talk and laughter
and jests among the company of actors and actresses and artists and
journalists gathered night after night at the tables; everybody in a
good temper and high spirits.
Walt Whitman, inspired, doubtless, by beer, once described the place
in characteristic rugged verse:
The vaults at Pfaff's, where the drinkers and laughers meet
to eat and drink and carouse,
While on the walk immediately overhead pass the myriad feet
of Broadway.
There was a good deal more of it, for, when he had been furnished with
plenty of liquid refreshment, the Muse of Walt ran to length.
From New York Lola set out on a tour to Philadelphia, St. Louis, and
Boston. While in this last town, she "paid a visit of ceremony" to one
of the public schools. Although the children there "expressed surprise
and delight at the honour accorded them," the _Boston Transcript_
shook its editorial head; and "referred to the visit in a fashion that
aroused the just indignation of the lady and her friends."
The cudgels were promptly taken up on her behalf by a New York
journalist:
"Lola Montez," he declared, "owes less of her strange fascination and
world-wide celebrity to her powers as an _artiste_ than to the
extraordinary mind and brilliancy of intellect with which Heaven has
thought fit to endow her. At one moment ruling a kingdom, through an
imbecile monarch; and the next, the wife of a dashing young English
lord.... Her person and bearing are unmistakably aristocratic. In her
recent visit to one of our public schools she surprised and delighted
the scholars by addressing them in the Latin language with remarkable
facility."
It would be of interest to learn the name of the "dashing young
English lord." This, however, was probably a brevet rank conferred by
the pressman on Cornet Heald.
On April 27, 1852, Lola Montez appeared at the Albany Museum in
selections from her repertoire. On this occasion she brought with her
a "troupe of twelve dancing girls." As an additional lure, the bills
described these damsels as "all of them unmarried, and most of them
under sixteen."
But the attraction which proved the biggest success in her repertoire
was a drama called _Lola in Bavaria_. This was said to be written by
"a young literary gentleman of New England, the son of a somewhat
celebrated poetess." The heroine, who was never off the stage for more
than five minutes, was depicted in turns as a dancer, a politician, a
countess, a revolutionary, and a fugitive; and among the other
characters were Ludwig I, Eugéne Sue, Dujarier, and Cornet Heald,
while the setting offered "a correct representation of the Lola Montez
palace at Munich." It seemed good value. At any rate, the public
thought it was, and full houses were secured. But the critics
restrained their raptures. "I sympathise," was the acid comment of one
of them, "with the actresses who were forced to take part in such
stuff"; and Joseph Daly described the heroine as "deserting a royal
admirer to court the sovereign public." The author of this balderdash
was one C. P. T. Ware, "a poor little hack playwright, who wrote
anything for anybody."
March of 1853 found Lola Montez fulfilling an engagement at the
Variétés Theatre, St. Louis. Kate Field, the daughter of the
proprietor, wrote a letter on the subject to her aunt.
"Well, Lola Montez appeared at father's theatre last night
for the first time. The theatre was crowded from parquet to
doors. She had the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. I liked
her very much; but she performed a dumb girl, so I cannot
say what she would do in speaking characters."
During this engagement Lola apparently proved a little _difficile_,
for her critic adds: "She is trying to trouble father as much as
possible."
Lola certainly was apt to "trouble" people with whom she came into
contact. As an accepted "star," she had a high sense of her own
importance and considered herself above mere rules. Once, when
travelling from Niagara to Buffalo by train, she elected to sit in the
baggage car and puff a cigarette. "While," says a report, "thus
cosily ensconced, she was discovered by the conductor and promptly
informed by him that such behaviour was not permitted. Thereupon,
Madame replied that it was her custom to travel where and how she
pleased, and that she had frequently horse-whipped much bigger men
than the conductor. This settled the matter, for the company's officer
did not care to challenge the tigress."
The visit to Buffalo was crowned with success. "Lola Montez," declared
the _Troy Budget_, "has done what Mrs. McMahon failed to
accomplish--she positively charmed the Buffaloes. This can perhaps be
attributed to her judicious choice of the ex-Reverend Chauncey Burr,
by whom she is accompanied on her tour in the capacity of
business-manager."
The choice of an "ex-Reverend" to conduct a theatrical tour seems,
perhaps, a little odd. Still, as Lola once remarked: "It is a common
enough thing in America for a bankrupt tradesman or broken-down jockey
to become a lawyer, a doctor, or even a parson." Hence, from the
pulpit to the footlights was no great step.