Political Disturbances in Bavaria
This idyllic life at Possenhofen was interrupted for a time, however, by
the political agitations in Munich. All over Europe the spirit of
revolution was stirring, a spirit that was soon to find expression in a
general outbreak. Nowhere did the royal power seem more secure than in
Bavaria. No monarch was more beloved than Ludwig the First, no people so
universally loyal to the crown as his good-natured, easy-going subjects.
Nevertheless the popular upheaval was here, too, bearing fruit, and a
demand for more share in the government, with a freer constitution, was
becoming general, although the immediate cause of the outbreak in Munich
and the King’s subsequent abdication had seemingly little to do with
politics.
About this time a very beautiful and fascinating public dancer, called
Lola Montez, made her appearance there and created a great sensation.
Her origin was obscure and uncertain; but the best authorities seem to
make her the daughter of an Irish officer and a beautiful Spanish woman
of Moorish descent. She was born in Ireland in 1820 and at the age of
seventeen married one Lieutenant James, with whom she went to the West
Indies. She soon left her husband, however, and returned to England,
where she prepared herself to become a dancer. While hardly a regular
beauty, Lola Montez seems to have possessed in the highest degree what
the French call _la beauté du diable_. She had wonderful black hair,
fiery eyes that could change in an instant to melting warmth, a perfect
figure, with hands and feet so small and beautifully shaped that a
duchess might have envied them.
Her first appearance in London met with no great success—a marked
contrast to the enthusiasm she afterward excited everywhere she went.
After a season in Paris she obtained a permanent position at the royal
theatre in Dresden, where she created a tremendous sensation and was
shown great favor by the court. From there she went to Berlin, Warsaw,
and St. Petersburg, making a succession of conquests and also many
enemies by her violent temper and the frequent use she made of her
riding-whip or dagger.
On the tenth of October, 1846, she appeared for the first time at the
court theatre in Munich and immediately became the subject of violent
discussion, some raving over her beauty, her adventures, and her
triumphs, others denouncing her manners and behavior and creating
prejudice against her by reports which even went so far as to call her a
political spy. Instead of the traditional ballet skirts, Lola presented
herself on this occasion in a Spanish costume of silk and lace, diamonds
sparkling here and there upon it, her wonderful blue eyes flashing as
she curtsied low before the King, who was seated in the royal box. She
danced several Spanish dances and all sat spellbound as one charming
pose followed another, fascinated by her supple grace of motion and the
art with which she could suddenly change from glowing passion to the
roguish smiles of an innocent young girl. As soon as she stopped
dancing, however, the charm was broken and hisses were mingled with the
applause.
It was Ludwig’s custom to receive all foreign artists in person, before
they could appear at the court theatre. At his interview with Lola
Montez the old man had been completely fascinated by her beauty and
lively conversation, and was soon desperately in love with the clever
dancer, who knew so well how to amuse and entertain him. He was
constantly seen in her company and at all her evening parties, an
intimacy which was not long in arousing the displeasure of his family
and subjects to the highest degree. Public feeling against the hated
dancer soon began to display itself, and in the following Spring she
retired with the King to Würzburg, where she behaved with the same
boldness and indiscretion as in the capital.
One day she made a frightful scene because the guard would not allow her
dog to enter the park where she wished to walk. The officer on duty was
hastily summoned and tried to make her understand that the soldier was
in the right, whereupon she struck him across the face with her
riding-whip. Out of respect for the King, no one ventured to arrest her,
but the officers and citizens of Würzburg were so infuriated she was
forced to leave the city secretly.
The leader of the old Catholic party, Joseph Görres, worked actively
against her, and the press was not slow to fan the flame. Libels and
lampoons were spread broadcast throughout the city, enraging the dancer,
who in revenge forced the King to gratify all her wishes and drew him
ever deeper into her toils. To annoy her enemies, and at the same time
obtain entrance for herself into the highest circles, she persuaded the
King to make her a countess. This he could not do, however, without the
consent of his ministers, who positively refused to agree to such an
act; furthermore they sent a memorandum to the King urging that Lola be
expelled from the kingdom. Ludwig replied to this request by dismissing
not only the entire ministry, but many of their adherents, among whom
were several professors in the university; and from this time on “the
Bavarian Pompadour,” as Lola Montez has been called, became an important
factor in politics.
The university was now like the glowing crater of a volcano whence
issued all the pent-up hatred and discontent, and on the ninth of
February, 1848, came the first great eruption. Lola, whose southern
blood craved excitement, attempted to show herself among the riotous
throngs, but was forced to take refuge in a church, thoroughly
frightened for once. The King was furious when he heard of this, and as
the students had been at the bottom of the demonstration, he ordered the
university closed and all non-resident students sent away from Munich.
The next day the whole body of students marched through the Karlstrasse
to the house of their distinguished chaplain, Professor Thiersch,
singing songs of farewell, and greeted with cheers from every window
they passed. There was a close bond of sympathy between the university
and the citizens, who held a meeting at once, protesting against the
severity of the King’s order and petitioning him to open the university
again. Ludwig promised to take the matter into consideration, and after
a conference with his ministers agreed to yield to the wishes of the
citizens, furthermore proclaiming that the Countess Landsfeld, as Lola
was now called, should be requested to leave Munich. “No one shall come
between me and my people,” he declared. This news was received with
great rejoicing and the house in which the hated favorite lived was
surrounded day and night by curious throngs, anxiously awaiting her
departure. At last, on the morning of the eleventh of February, the
doors were suddenly thrown open by a squad of police, and before the
crowd outside realized what was happening, the coach containing the
Countess had started off at a furious gallop on the road to Blutenburg.
From there she fled to Lindau and thence to England, subsequently making
her way to the United States and later to Australia, where she died in
1861 at the age of forty, after a varied and adventurous career.
The revolution of February, which had already taken place in Paris, was
followed by similar uprisings throughout Europe, and added fuel to the
fire in Bavaria. The citizens of Munich again rose in revolt, and the
Government could no longer remain deaf to their just demands for a more
liberal constitution. The King made some concessions which partially
appeased the loyal Bavarians, and the disturbance seemed about to
subside, when a report that Lola Montez had returned to Munich caused a
fresh outbreak. Official notices were posted that evening on every
street corner, affirming that the Countess Landsfeld had left Karlsruhe
on the fourteenth of March for Frankfort, and had been forbidden ever to
set foot again on Bavarian soil; but the people laughed this to scorn.
The placards were torn down and the insurgents continued their work of
destruction.
On the eighteenth of March, Munich found itself in a state of siege. Ten
thousand troops were in arms to put an end, if possible, to the
uprising. Many deputations waited on the King and on the States
Assembly, which had convened in the meantime, while the greater part of
the people who had taken no part in the disturbance waited anxiously for
developments. But King Ludwig was unable to crush the rebellion; neither
was he able to reconcile himself to a new system of government. Two days
later Munich was startled by an unexpected event. A proclamation was
issued by the sovereign, announcing his abdication, after a reign of
twenty-three years, in favor of his eldest son, to whom he left the task
of carrying out the reforms demanded by the people. Dumbfounded at this
unforeseen step, the Bavarians, loyal still to the house of Wittelsbach,
were much affected, and many felt remorseful at having rebelled against
their King, who, in spite of his faults, had been a good sovereign and
done much for his country. After his abdication, Ludwig spent the
remainder of his life as a private citizen, partly in Bavaria, partly in
Italy and the south of France, interesting himself still in art and
plans for the further improvement of Munich. He soon regained all his
old popularity, and felt no regrets for the rank and honors he had
renounced. He died in February, 1868; but some years before that event,
an equestrian statue of him was erected in Munich by the grateful people
of that city.