V
After a few months among them, Lola, tiring of the Swiss cantons, thought she might as well discover if England, which she had not visited for six years, could offer any fresh attractions. Accordingly, resolved to make the experiment, on December 30, 1848, she arrived in London.
The Satirist, hearing the news, suggested that the managers of Drury Lane and Covent Garden should engage her as a "draw." But she did not stop in England very long, as she returned to the Continent almost at once.
In the following spring, she made a second journey to London, and sailed from Rotterdam. Unknown to her, the passenger list was to have included another fallen star. This was Metternich, who, with the riff-raff of Vienna thundering at the doors of his palace, was preparing to seek sanctuary in England. Thinking, however, that the times were not altogether propitious, he decided to postpone the expedition.
"If," he wrote, "the Chartist troubles had not prevented me embarking yesterday at Rotterdam, I should have reached London this morning in the company of the Countess of Landsfeld. She sailed by the steamer in which I was to have travelled. I thank heaven for having preserved me from such contact!"
All things considered, it is perhaps just as well that the two refugees did not cross the Channel together. Had they done so, it is probable that one of them would have found a watery grave.
Metternich had worsted Napoleon, but he found himself worsted by Lola Montez. On April 9, he wrote from The Hague:
"I have put off my departure for England, because I wished to know first what was happening in that country as a result of the Chartists' disturbance. I consider that, for me who must have absolute rest, it would have been ridiculous to have arrived in the middle of the agitation."
Louis Napoleon, however, was made of sterner stuff; and it is to his credit that, as a return for the hospitality extended him, he was sworn in as a special constable.
CHAPTER XII
A "LEFT-HANDED" MARRIAGE
I
n arriving in London, and (thanks to the bounty of Ludwig) being well provided with funds, Lola took a house in Half Moon Street, Piccadilly. There she established something of a salon, where she gave a series of evening receptions. They were not, perhaps, up to the old Barerstrasse standard; still, they brought together a number of the less important "lions," all of whom were only too pleased to accept invitations.
Among the hangers-on was Frederick Leveson-Gower, a son of Earl Granville. He had met the great Rachel in Paris and was ecstatic about her. "Not long after," he says, "I got to know another much less gifted individual, but who having captivated a King, upset two Ministries, and brought about a revolution in Bavaria, was entitled to be looked upon as celebrated. This was Lola Montez."
In his character of what is still oddly dubbed a "man-about-town," Serjeant Ballantine was also among those who attended these Half Moon Street gatherings. "His hostess," he says, "had certain claims to celebrity. She was, I believe, of Spanish origin, and certainly possessed that country's style of beauty, with much dash of manner and an extremely outré fashion of dress." Another occasional visitor was George Augustus Sala, a mid-Victorian journalist who was responsible for printing more slipshod inaccuracies than any two members of his craft put together. He says that he once contemplated writing Lola's memoirs. He did not, however, get beyond "contemplating." This, perhaps, was just as well, since he was so ill-equipped for the task that he imagined she was a sister of Adah Isaacs Menken.
"About this time," he says, "I made the acquaintance, at a little cigar shop under the pillars in Norreys Street, Regent Street, of an extremely handsome lady, originally the wife of a solicitor, but who had been known in London and Paris as a ballet-dancer under the name of Lola Montez. When I knew her, she had just escaped from Munich, where she had been too notorious as Countess of Landsfeld. She had obtained for a time complete mastery over old King Ludwig of Bavaria; and something like a revolution had been necessary to induce her to quit the Bavarian capital."
A ridiculous story spread that Lord Brougham (who had witnessed her ill-starred début in 1843) wanted to marry her. The fact that there was already a Lady Brougham in existence did not curb the tongues of the gossipers. "She refused the honourable Lord," says a French journalist, "in a manner that redounded to her credit."
Journalists, anxious for "copy," haunted Half Moon Street all day long. They were never off her doorstep. "Town gossip," declared one of them, "is in full swing; and the general public are all agog to catch a glimpse of the latest 'lioness.' Lola Montez is on every lip and in everybody's eye. She is causing an even bigger sensation than that inspired by the Swedish Nightingale, Madame Jenny Lind."
Notwithstanding the ill-success of a former attempt to exploit her personality behind the footlights, Mrs. Keeley produced a sketch at the Haymarket written "round" Lola Montez. This, slung together by Stirling Coyne, was called: Pas de Fascination. The scene was laid in "Neverask-where"; and among the characters were "Prince Dunbrownski," "Count Muffenuff," and "General von Bolte."
It scarcely sounds rib-rending.
Mrs. Charles Kean, who attended the first performance, described Pas de Fascination as "the most daring play I ever witnessed." Lola Montez herself took it in good part. She sat in a box, "and, when the curtain fell, threw a magnificent bouquet at the principal actress." Coals of fire.
Not to be behindhand in offering tit-bits of "news," an American correspondent informed his readers that: "During the early part of 1849, Lola Montez, arrayed in the Royal Bavarian jewels, crashed into one of the Court balls at Buckingham Palace. Needless to remark," he added, "the audacity has not been repeated." From this, it would appear that the Lord Chamberlain had been aroused from his temporary slumbers.
The Satirist had assured his readers "the public will soon be hearing more of Madame Montez." They did. What they heard was something quite unexpected. This was that she had made a second experiment in matrimony, and that her choice had fallen on a Mr. George Heald, a callow lad of twenty, for whom a commission as Cornet in the Life Guards had been purchased by his family.