During the summer, Ludwig, divesting himself of the cares of state, retired to his castle at Bruckenau, picturesquely situated in the Fulda Forest; and Lola, attended by a squadron of Cuirassiers, accompanied him to this retreat. There, as in the Nymphenburg Park, Ludwig dreamed dreams, while Lola amused herself with the officers of the escort. Halcyon days—and nights. They inspired His Majesty with yet another "poem":
SONG OF WALHALLA
Through the holy dome, oh come,
Brothers, let us roam along;
Let from thousand throats the hum
Rise, like rivers, swift and strong!
When the notes have died away
Let us clasp each other's hand;
And, to high Heaven, let us pray
For our dearest Fatherland!
While she accorded it full value, Lola Montez did not depend on mere beauty for her power. She had a markedly sadistic vein in her composition; and, when annoyed, was not above laying about her right and left with a dog-whip that she always carried. An impudent lackey would be flogged into submission, or set upon by a fierce mastiff that she kept at her heels. High office, too, meant nothing to her. She boxed the ears of Baron Pechman; and, because he chanced to upset her, she encouraged her four-coated companion to tear the best trousers of Professor Lasaulx, the nephew of Görrez, a Cabinet Minister.
Her English bulldog (with apparently a strain of Presbyterian blood in him) had an unerring scent for Jesuits. He seemed to disapprove of their principles as much as his mistress did, and would attack them at sight. This animal would also appear to have been something of a prohibitionist. At any rate, he once bit a brewer's carman, delivering goods to a bierkeller. When the victim expostulated, Lola struck him with her whip. This infuriated the crowd to such an extent that she had to take refuge in a shop. There she happened to jostle a lieutenant, who, not recognising her, ventured on a protest. The next morning he received a challenge from a fire-eating comrade, alleging that he had "insulted a lady." Because the challenge was refused, a "court of honour" had him deprived of his commission.
III
What a distressed commentator has dubbed the "equivocal position" of Lola Montez at Munich also stuck in the gullet of the Cabinet, and heads were shaken. Public affronts were offered her. When she visited the Odéon Theatre, the stalls adjoining the one she occupied were promptly emptied. "Respectable women drew back, exhibiting on their countenances disgust and terror." But the masculine members of the audience were less exclusive, or perhaps made of sterner material, for they displayed eagerness to fill up the vacant stalls. "A new chivalry was born," says a chronicler of town gossip, "and paladins were anxious to act as a buckler."
With the passage of time the infatuation of the Wittelsbach Lovelace became so marked that it could not be ignored in places beyond Munich. The Countess Bernstorff grew seriously perturbed. "There has long been talk," she confided to a friend, "as to whether King Ludwig would so far presume on the kindness and indulgence of the Queen of Prussia as to bring Lola Montez to Court during Her Majesty's forthcoming stay in Munich." The problem, however, was solved by the tactful action of Lola herself, who gave the palace a wide berth until the visit had come to an end.
In his Memoirs of Madam Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt shocked horror is similarly expressed by Canon Scott Holland at the possibility of the Swedish Nightingale, who was arranging to give a concert there, encountering Lola in her audience: