Lola Montez is a name many people remember without knowing quite why they remember it. I was dimly aware of her as a famous 19th century dancer but was drawn to her recently when I discovered she was Irish. Fellow Irishman Thomas Francis Meagher was also drawn to her when she lived in the mountain mining districts of California in the winter of 1854. Meagher “walked through five feet of snow” to pay respects and found Montez with her arm in a bandage, “her pet grizzly bear having given her a slap of his paw the day before, as she was tenderly helping him to a lump of sugar.” I assumed it was a fanciful story but her biographer confirms it was true. Bruce Seymour’s Lola Montez A Life said Montez’s pet bear tried to maul her before someone clubbed it over the head. A notice later appeared in the local paper announcing “Grizzly for sale.” It was one of many great stories of a most colourful life.
The Australian Dictionary of Biography primly calls Lola Montez a “dancer and courtesan” but she was a lot more besides. When she died in 1861, she was probably the most well known woman of her time after Queen Victoria. Stories swirled about the mysterious woman variously called a beautiful Spanish noblewoman, an Irish slut and a native New Yorker. She was twice a bigamist and constantly fighting with the law. She charmed packed-out theatres in Europe, America and Australia and was loved by kings and composers. She caused a revolution in Bavaria and was made countess. She was a handy shot with a revolver, and armed with a whip and vicious temper, she intimidated more men than any woman of her time. She was the first white woman to be photographed arm in arm with a native American and the first woman to be photographed smoking. She was a brilliant self-publicist and walking headline, and though given to outrageous lies, some extraordinary portion of what she and others said about her was true.
This wild life was a remote possibility for a girl born in Ireland in 1821. Her mother Eliza Oliver was the illegitimate daughter of Protestant MP and sheriff of Cork, Charles Silver Oliver. Her father Edward Gilbert was an ensign in the 25th Foot Regiment when he met and married Eliza. Though Grange in Sligo claims the birth of Eliza Gilbert, Lola told the King of Bavaria she was born on February 14 in Limerick and for once she may not have been lying, Certainly her mother’s brother lived in Limerick.
Gilbert was stationed in Sligo and Boyle for two years before being transferred to the 44th Foot in India. The young family travelled across the ocean and up the Ganges but Ensign Gilbert died of cholera in Patna. The widow returned to Calcutta where she married Scottish lieutenant Patrick Craigie. Craigie was concerned about his stepdaughter growing up wild amid the lushness of India and aged six, Eliza junior went to Scotland to live with his father, a former provost of Montrose. There she gained the reputation of an exotic creature with a love of fun and mischief. Aged 11, she went to Sunderland with Craigie’s sister Catherine Rae and her husband who were establishing a boarding school. A year later Craigie arranged for his old commander General Jasper Nicolls to look after his stepdaughter. Nicolls enrolled her in school in Bath where she received a fine education.
Her mother returned from India in 1836 accompanied by Wexford-born lieutenant Thomas James. She intended to marry 16-year-old Eliza off to a wealthy 64-year-old widower in India. Eliza was horrified and the reunion with her mother was a failure, but Eliza’s budding beauty attracted Lieutenant James and the pair eloped to Ireland. They married at Rathbeggan, Co Meath on July 23, 1837, took lodgings in Dublin and visited the James family seat near Mt Leinster. Eventually James returned to his regiment in India. The marriage unravelled on the long sea voyage and the relationship was rocky by the time they arrived north of Delhi in 1839. She left James and decided to return to Britain.
En route she met Lieutenant George Lennox, nephew of the Duke of Richmond. Ladies aboard were scandalised as Eliza and Lennox openly fraternised and spent evenings in his cabin. They arrived in Portsmouth arm in arm and Eliza established herself in London as Lennox’s mistress. The affair lasted barely a summer but long enough for Lieutenant James in India to find out and sue for divorce.
Eliza decided to go on stage. Lennox gave her contacts in British theatre and, too old to learn ballet, she became a Spanish dancer. She travelled to Spain and learned some of the language, culture and dance. While she was away the Consistory Court granted the divorce but granted neither party the right to remarry. The decision would have consequences but for now the excitement was the emergence of an exotic unknown beauty.
Returning from Spain, Eliza befriended nobleman the Earl of Malmesbury who provided money to get her started. He lobbied for her stage debut, a dance at Her Majesty’s between the acts of the Barber of Seville and began a publicity blitz. She was billed as Spanish noble Lola Montez who would dance El Oleano which had steps called “death to the tarantula.” On stage Montez slowly captivated her audience as she mimed the crushing of the tarantula. It was a sensation in the auditorium which demanded an encore. The press lauded Lola and her “spider dance” as the talk of London. When one paper noted that the supposed Senorita was actually Mrs James, Montez began a tactic she would frequently reuse, an indignant letter to the editor, which claimed she was a native of Seville who never before “set foot in this country.” When the unabashed newspaper threatened to drag in nobles to unmask her, the theatre manager refused to renew her contract. Montez decided to continue her career on the continent.
Her first performance in Dresden was underwhelming, the locals preferring opera to dance, but she charmed many young men who gave her introductions to Berlin. At Berlin’s Royal Theatre she danced El Oleano in front of Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV to mixed acclaim, with flowers on the stage but hisses amid the applause. The King was impressed, however, and when his brother-in-law Czar Nicholas I of Russia arrived in Berlin, Lola privately entertained them at his palace. Lola overstretched a few days later by gatecrashing the VIP section of a grand parade for both monarchs. When a gendarme tried to escort the mounted Lola from the restricted area she lashed out with her whip and was allowed to stay where she was.
Montez was charged with assault of a gendarme but she tore up the legal summons which led to a more serious charge of judicial contempt. The matter never came to trial and proved a goldmine of publicity for the dancer who continued east towards St Petersburg. First she went to Warsaw, then a Russian satrapy, where she charmed critics at the Grand Theatre. However she argued with theatre director and gendarmerie chief Ignacy Abramowicz, who was alarmed at the politics she spoke with new Polish friends. Abramowicz paid infiltrators in the crowd to boo and hiss her and she denounced him from the stage to great applause. Abramowicz expelled her from Warsaw. She then conquered the stage in Stettin, Danzig, Konigsberg and Riga before arriving in St Petersburg where her Polish reputation had preceded her. Though Nicholas I had seen her in Berlin, he forbade his subjects the same privilege and his newspapers refused to mention her. Her plans in disarray she went back to Berlin, where she met Hungarian musical genius Franz Liszt.
Liszt, then 32, was at the height of his powers as a performer and met Lola following one of his concerts. They quickly took up together though for once Lola was not the centre of attention. In Dresden they attended a Richard Wagner opera but Wagner took a dim view of Lola whom he called “a heartless, demonic being.” Lola also introduced a young piano-playing fan of hers named Hans Von Bulow to Liszt and the young Von Bulow would become a lifelong student of Liszt. Like Lola, Von Bulow would run foul of Wagner, who stole his fiance.
Lola was expelled from Dresden for slapping a friend of Liszt on the face. She and Liszt split up though they remained friends. Lola moved to Paris where it was easy for a woman of wit and intelligence to make friends and she was soon bosom buddies with the Jockey Club, a notorious group of wealthy men who attended races and theatre. A theatre critic friend of Liszt began a successful campaign to get her onstage at the Opera where she danced l’Olia (El Oleano). The theatre was packed out with ballet lovers and Jockey Club members. While the latter applauded loudly, those who understood dance found Montez too unorthodox though undeniably beautiful. Lola won a second and third billing but was criticised in the press. One critic who knew Spain said Mme Montez had “nothing Andalusian about her except a pair of magnificent black eyes.”
Lola was lost to the Opera but stayed in Paris. She took dancing lessons and learned to become a top pistol shot. She moved in with wealthy Alexander Dujarier who ran the newspaper La Presse. Dujarier assisted her in getting a new dancing gig. She had wild support from the audience but again critics complained. Unsurprisingly La Presse was an exception, saying she got away with breaking the rules. She was on the verge of success in Paris when tragedy struck. Dujarier got into an angry exchange while gambling and his offended opponent demanded satisfaction. They met in a duel; Dujarier shot first and missed but his opponent did not. Dujarier died. The bullet also killed Montez’s Paris career as the theatre lost interest in her without her patron.
Lola went back on tour. In Bonn she accompanied Liszt to a dinner where a brawl started. When Liszt toasted the English, Dutch and Austrians in the audience, an angry Frenchman screamed that he had forgotten them. An Englishman yelled back sarcastically, “What about the Emperor of China” and although the host Professor Wolff tried to calm matters down, the din of angry voices rose until Lola, the only woman present, climbed on the table and shouted, “Speak, Professor Wolff, I pray you!”
Lola returned to Paris for the Dujarier murder trial. In testimony she called herself “an artiste of the dance” and said she would have stopped the duel had she known. When asked how she would have done that she replied, “I would have sacrificed myself.” Though the murder was obvious, the jury would not convict a duellist. Lola left Paris in the arms of new English lover Francis Leigh and they travelled to fashionable resorts in Belgium and Germany. They parted company and she was seen with a Russian nobleman but that didn’t last long either. In Munich for Oktoberfest she met her next major conquest.
King Ludwig I of Bavaria was 60 years old and had been on the throne for 20 years having turned a near bankrupt kingdom into one of the most financially sound realms of Europe. He was hard of hearing which made him distrust those around him but he was an enthusiastic poet and a patron of culture and turned Munich into a centre of art and design. Though married to Queen Therese with eight children, Ludwig maintained freedom to have affairs and his court artist Joseph Stieler painted all his mistresses. In 1846 a courtier gave him the petition of a Spanish dancer who wanted to perform in Munich but noted her chequered history. Ludwig was intrigued and granted her an audience.
Though Lola dressed to impress, her first meeting with Ludwig was unexceptional. He told her to speak to the theatre director though reserved a final decision for himself. When the director pointed out that Lola’s notoriety might improve box office takings, Ludwig agreed on the condition Lola danced in Spanish costumes. Ludwig was in the royal box as Lola made her debut. Audiences and critics were divided but the king was enchanted, caring less about her technical skill than her fiery spirit, beautiful face and magnificent body. He demanded Stieler do her portrait as an excuse to meet her every day. While the painter worked, the king and the dancer spoke together in Spanish. Ludwig was giddy with love and she promised to stay in Munich with him. Though they had no sex, Lola considered herself his official mistress with gossips believing she was a secret British agent. Her imperiousness added to disquiet especially after Ludwig granted her a permanent seat in the theatre’s royal enclosure. She assembled her own court of young male admirers and she spent Ludwig’s money as quickly as she got it. The king’s friends plotted about how to get him out of her grasp but opposition to her merely stiffened his resistance.
Lola was her own worst enemy and gradually became a pariah in Munich. One day she flew into a rage when one of her young beaux stood her up and she rang every bell in a building looking for him shouting “I am the king’s mistress”. The news scandalised the city. When police investigated, Lola claimed someone had impersonated her to blacken her reputation. Ludwig believed her version. He decided to give his “Lolitta” a large annual income as long as she didn’t marry. His advisors’ fears worsened when she intervened in a pay dispute with teachers and even announced the settlement ahead of the official department.
Officials tried to bribe her to leave Bavaria. She refused, which convinced Ludwig she did not love him merely for his wealth, though he was perturbed by her young male acolytes. Citizens opposed his plan to grant her Bavarian citizenship and graffiti appeared on city walls: “Montez you great whore, your time will come soon.” Her home was surrounded by a mob which police dispersed. After a crown minister called her “the unspeakable female” Ludwig sacked his government. Rumours began that Lola was now the power behind the throne. Mobs attacked the palace leaving Ludwig shaken but when the dowager empress of Austria suggested he abandon Lola, Ludwig told the grand dame to mind her own business.
When London papers unmasked Lola’s past she sent letters to papers across Europe saying she was from Seville, “my mother a lady of Irish extraction…which I suppose is the cause of my being called Irish.” In Wurzburg she attacked a sentry who tried to pick up her lapdog, leading to more hostility. Ludwig remained hopelessly in love and made her the Countess of Landsfeld. The British Ambassador told London that the King was now deeply unpopular.
Lola’s hopes to become a dignified countess were undermined by drunken young male friends who lifted her on their shoulders before she crashed into chandeliers and fell to the ground unconscious. Stories of half-naked men flooded Munich. She was whistled and jeered in the streets and chased into a church while her acolytes were attacked. The military guarded her house and the palace while the King shut down the university. Rioters became more violent shouting “We want Lola Montez out of Munich”. The King’s sister begged him to comply. Finally Lola stormed out of her house armed with a pistol and fled in a carriage, the news greeted with jubilation. They cheered Ludwig but he was heart-broken. He ordered Lola to seek safety in Switzerland and considered abdication.
In February 1848 uprisings spread across Europe from Paris. The unrest continued in Bavaria despite Lola’s departure with people demanding liberal government. Not having heard from Ludwig, Lola disguised herself as a man and returned to Munich. Someone saw through her false beard and she was arrested. Ludwig hurried to police headquarters. They talked alone for three hours before he convinced her to return to Switzerland. Word spread that Lola was back, many believing Ludwig had connived her return.
Officials proposed a constitutional monarchy. When Ludwig could not agree, he abdicated in favour of his son Maximilian. Lola asked him to join her and also asked for money to finance her extravagant lifestyle. With unrest growing, Ludwig worried he would be barred from returning. He stayed in Munich, reluctantly paying Lola’s bills. At year’s end she moved to London, her spell on the king broken. In 1849 she met 21-year-old barrister’s son George Trafford Heald, eight years her junior. He proposed marriage and once Lola was satisfied with his family wealth, she accepted. She asked for Ludwig’s permission (and continuation of her allowance) though the king was angered to find out she did not wait for the answer.
Lola signed the marriage register as Maria de los Dolores de Landsfeld, a widow from Seville. Heald’s sister considered her a shameless gold digger and found out Captain Thomas James was still alive. On August 6, police arrested Lola for bigamy. She gained bail at a packed court hearing and immediately left for Italy with Heald. Facing the possibility of jail, Lola skipped bail. Their relationship quickly unravelled and he returned to England alone. Moving to France, Lola regained Heald’s affection while continuing to soak Ludwig’s purse. With mounting bills Heald abandoned her a second time. Lola lived alone in Paris and wrote a very unreliable memoir.
Lola decided to go back on stage. She made a successful return at Boulogne then Brussels before heading to Prussia where the police director banned her as a dangerous liberal. She returned to France before taking her tour to America, sharing a liner with Hungarian revolutionary Lajos Kossuth, whose celebrity status outshone her own on arrival in New York. There she met impresario Thomas Barry who prepared her to perform. They reworked the spider dance to become a pas de deux with American dancer George Washington Smith. The Broadway Theatre was packed on December 29 for her debut in a Tyrolean opera that lasted only 40 minutes. While some critics panned her dancing even they admitted Lola held her audience. She did great business for three weeks. She moved to Philadelphia and posed for a photo with Cheyenne chief Light in the Clouds who had just met the president. She was also photographed in Boston smoking a cigarette and though unflattering, it is probably the first ever photo of a woman smoking.
Her tour moved to Richmond, where her support for states’ rights was popular. In some towns there were protests at her “indecency” and the publicity usually added to the box office takings. On May 25, 1852 she made her acting debut in “Lola Montez in Bavaria”, a loose rendition of her time with Ludwig, which was successful though one critic called it full of “unsubstantial puffs”. It led to other dramatic roles which she took south, including a long run in New Orleans. There she was arrested for assaulting her servant over a wages row and Lola drew a dagger and kicked police. After she dramatically attempted suicide by drinking from a vial labelled poison, police reluctantly let her go though she faced charges a month later. There she took over from her lawyer and harangued attorneys and witnesses alike. Once again she jumped bail to Panama, bound for California.
Montez arrived in San Francisco in May 1853 and played to packed houses, though ladies were not recommended to attend as her dance obliged her to search for the spider “rather higher in her skirts than was proper”. Believing Heald was dead and James didn’t count, Lola re-married again; this time as “Maria Dolores Eliza Rosana Landsfeld” to Patrick Hull, a San Francisco newspaper editor whom she befriended at sea. In Sacramento, she stormed off stage when the audience laughed at her. The following night police threatened to arrest unruly theatregoers. She made a speech where she said she loved America and was loudly applauded.
Lola then fell in love with a place, Grass Valley, a mining community in the mountains, where the air was similar to Simla in India. She and Hull soon parted, possibly after she found out Heald was not dead. She made Grass Valley home. Admirers came to visit, including Thomas Francis Meagher, and she was free of the need to pretend she was Spanish, though the grizzly had to go. She heard about Australia’s gold rush (Meagher may have listed its attractions) and decided on a tour down under with a company of California stage veterans.
Lola arrived in Sydney in August 1855. Although the Sydney Morning Herald primly ignored her, another paper The Empire assured readers her play would not affect public morals. After her first performance mainly to men, she appealed for women to attend, which they did in increasing numbers. Sydney was a success though she was plagued with ill health. She sacked her California support crew who tried to slap a writ on her as she left the city, a row which finally got the Herald‘s attention. There was more success in Melbourne, Geelong and Adelaide and an inevitable letter to the editor after criticism of the spider dance. There was more free publicity when a pastor demanded her arrest for indecency. She inaugurated a new theatre in Ballarat though she threatened to whip local newspaper editor Henry Seekamp after he published a critical letter. Seekamp grabbed his own whip and the two traded blows in a hotel and pulled each other’s hair before being dragged apart. Lola’s latest whip exploits quickly sped around the globe and did nothing to dampen theatre crowds. Her run in Ballarat came to an end when a woman, incensed at Lola’s criticism of her tour manager husband, whipped her without warning causing severe bruises. Lola appeared next in Melbourne “against medical advice” as the promotion material put it. Lola abandoned plans for an Asian tour and decided to retire again to America. On the way home her actor lover Frank Folland disappeared off the boat into the ocean, with rumors that it was suicide over endless quarrels with Lola. His death deeply affected Lola and she found spirituality.
She returned to New York where she took to the lecture platform charming audiences with her wit and style. She reminisced on her life and praised Ludwig as “refined and high toned.” The Boston Post wrote “she talks vastly better than she dances.” Being Lola, there was more drama when she travelled to France to marry an Austrian nobleman only to find out he was married with five children. She returned to America to continue her career as a respected lecturer. In 1860 there was time for one last tour of Britain and Ireland (she was due to perform in Meagher’s Waterford but went to Manchester instead). She took a pro-Democrat position and defended slavery which did not go down well and she fell ill in London before returning to New York. As America edged towards war she suffered a stroke. Though papers reported she was dying she lived on until January 17, 1861 when her lungs finally failed her. She was buried in New York’s Green-Wood cemetery where Meagher’s wife would join her in 1906 as would a statue of Meagher himself a century later, though Lola’s own epitaph is illegible. In Bavaria, Ludwig had outlived her and took “great consolation to hear her dying as a Christian.” Not regarded as a feminist hero, Lola Montez fought primarily to free her life from prejudice and restrictions. But as her biographer Seymour says, that meant “blazing trails other women could follow.”
Woolly Days 