It was from Lindeau that, disguised as a boy (then a somewhat more difficult job than now), Lola, greatly daring, ventured back to the arms of Ludwig. But she only stopped with him a couple of hours, for she had been followed, and was still being hunted by the rabble of the town. Before, however, resuming her journey, she endeavoured to get into touch with her faithful Alemannia. "I beg you," she wrote to the proprietor of the café they frequented, "to tell me where Herr Peissner has gone." The landlord, fearing reprisals, withheld the knowledge. If he had given it, he would probably have had his premises wrecked. Safety first!
In this juncture, Ludwig, acting like a mental deficient, announced that there was only one adequate explanation for Lola's conduct. This was that she was "possessed of an evil spirit" which had to be exorcised before things should get worse. Lending a ready ear to every quack in Bavaria, he sent her under escort to Weinsberg, to the clinic of a Dr. Justinus Kerner, who had established himself there as a mesmerist.
"You are to drive the devil out of her," were the instructions given him.
Fearing that his spells and incantations might, after all, not prove effective, and thus convict him for a charlatan, the man of science felt uneasy. Still, an order was an order, especially when it came from a King, and he promised to do his best. On the day that his patient arrived, he wrote to his married daughter, Emma Niendorf. A free translation of this letter, which is given in full by Dr. von Tim Klein (in his Der Vorkamfdeutscher Einheit und Freiheit), would read:
Yesterday there arrived here Lola Montez; and, until further instructions come from Munich, I am detaining her in my tower, where guard is being kept by three of the Alemannia. That the King should have selected me of all people to send her to is most annoying. But he was assured that she was possessed of a devil, and that the devil in her could be driven out by me at Weinsberg. Still, the case is one of interest.
As a preliminary to my magneto-magic treatment, I am beginning by subjecting her to a fasting-cure. This means that every day all she is to have is a quarter of a wafer and thirteen drops of raspberry juice.
"Sage es aber niemanden! Verbrenne diesen Brief!" ("But don't tell anybody about it; burn this letter") was the exorcist's final injunction.
To live up to his reputation for wonder-working, the mystic had an Æolian harp in each of the windows of his house, so arranged that Ariel-like voices would float through the summer breezes.
"It is magic," said the peasants, crossing themselves devoutly when they heard the sound.
But the harp-obligato proved no more effective than the reduced dieting and early attempt to popularise slimming. After a couple of days, accordingly, the regime was varied by the substitution of asses' milk for the raspberry juice. Much to his annoyance, however, the specialist had to report to another correspondent, Sophie Schwab, that his patient was not deriving any real benefit, and that the troublesome "devil" had not been dislodged.