V
Even after she was in it, and might, one would think, have been left there in peace, the dead woman was not allowed to rest quietly in her grave. Some years later her mantle was impudently assumed by an alleged actress, who, dubbing herself "Countess of Landsfeld," undertook a lecture tour in America. If she had no other gift, this one certainly had that of imagination. "I was born," she said to a reporter, "in Florence, and my mother, Lola Montez, was really married to the King Ludwig of Bavaria. This marriage was strictly valid, and my mother's title of countess was afterwards conferred on myself. The earliest recollections I have are of being brought up by some nuns in a convent in the Black Forest. But for the help of the good Dr. Döllinger, who assisted me to escape, I should still have been kept there, a victim of political interests."
This nonsense was eagerly swallowed; and for some time the pseudo-"Countess" attracted a following and reaped a rich harvest. It was not until diplomatic representations were made that her career was checked.
On Christmas Day, 1898, a New York obituary announced the death of a woman, Alice Devereux, the wife of a carpenter in poor circumstances. It further declared that she was the "daughter of the notorious Lola Montez, and may well have been the grand-daughter of Lord Byron." To this it added: "Society has maintained a studious and charitable reserve as to the parentage of Lola Montez. All that is definitely known on the subject is that a fox-hunting Irish squire, Sir Edward Gilbert, was the husband of her mother." Thus is "history" written.
Nor would the "Spirits" leave poor Lola in peace. In the year 1888 a woman "medium," calling herself Madam Anna O'Delia Diss DeBar (but, under pressure, admitting to several aliases) claimed to be a daughter of Lola Montez. As such, she conducted a number of séances, and, in return for cash down, evoked the spirit of her alleged mother. Some of the cash was extracted from the pocket of a credulous lawyer, one Luther Marsh. Thinking he had not had fair value for his dollars, he eventually prosecuted Madam for fraud, and had her sent to prison.
She was not disturbed again until the winter of 1929, when an Austrian "medium," Rudi Schneider, with, to adopt the jargon of his craft, a "trance-personality" called Olga (who professed to be an incarnation of Lola Montez), gave some séances in London. The extinguishing of the lights and the wheezing of a gramophone were followed by the usual "manifestations." Thus, curtains flapped, books fell off chairs, tambourines rattled in locked cupboards, and bells jangled, etc. But Lola Montez herself was too bashful to appear. None the less, a number of "scientists" (all un-named) afterwards announced that "everything was very satisfactory."
Thinking that these claims to get into touch with the dead should be subjected to a more adequate test, Mr. Harry Price, director of the National Laboratory of Psychical Research, arranged for Rudi Schneider to give a sample of his powers to a committee of experts. As a convincing test, Major Hervey de Montmorency (a nephew of the Mr. Francis Leigh with whom Lola had once lived in Paris) suggested that the accomplished "Olga" should be asked the name of his uncle (which was different from his own) and the circumstances under which they had parted. This was done, and "Olga" promised to give full details at the next sitting. But the promise was not kept. "She conveniently shelved every question," says the official report. Altogether, Rudi Schneider's stock fell.