“Maîtresse DU ROI”

I

The rôle for which Lola cast herself was that of La Pompadour to the Louis XV of Ludwig I. She had been a coryphée. Now she was a courtesan. History was repeating itself. Like an Agnes Sorel or a Jane Shore before her, she held in Munich the semi-official and quite openly acknowledged position of the King’s mistress. It is said of her that she was so proud of the title and all it implied, that she would add “Maîtresse du Roi” to her signature when communicating with understrappers at the palace. Ludwig, however, thought this going too far, and peremptorily forbade the practice. Lola gave way. Perhaps the only time on record. In return, however, she advanced a somewhat embarrassing demand.

“My position as a king’s favourite,” she said, “entitles me to the services of a confessor and a private chapel.”

Ludwig was quite agreeable, and instructed Count Reisach, the Ultramontane Archbishop of Munich, to select a priest for this responsible office. His Grace, however, reported that all the clergy in a body had protested to him that, “fearing for their virtue, they could not conscientiously accept the post.”

Disappointed at the rebuff, Lola herself then applied to Dr. Windischmann, the Vicar-General, telling him that if he would undertake the office she would reciprocate by securing him a bishopric. This dignitary, however, was not to be tempted. “Madame,” he said, “my confessional is in the Church of Notre-Dame; and you can always go there when you want to accuse yourself of any of the numerous sins you have committed.”

Nor would His Eminence, the Primate of Poland, give any help. All he would do was to get into his carriage and set off to expostulate with the King. But it was a wasted effort, for Ludwig insisted that his relations with the conscience-stricken postulant were “nothing more than platonic.” Thereupon, “the superior clergy announced that the designs of Providence were indeed inscrutable to mere mortals, but they trusted that His Majesty would at any rate change his mistress.” Ludwig, however, brooking no interference with his amours, refused to do anything of the kind.

“What are you thinking about?” he stormed. “How dare you hint that I am the man to roll myself in the mud of the gutter? My feelings for this lady are of the most lofty and high-minded description. If you drive me to extremes, heaven alone knows what will happen!”

His Eminence met the outburst by whispering in the ear of the Bishop of Augsburg that the King was “possessed.” As for the Bishop of Augsburg, he “wept every day.” A leaky prelate.

“It is a paradox,” was the expert opinion of Archbishop Diepenbrock, “that the more shameful she is, the more beautiful is a courtesan.” A “Day of Humiliation,” with a special prayer composed by himself, was his suggestion for mending matters; and Madame von Kruedener, not to be outdone in coming to the rescue, preached the necessity of “public penance.” Thus taken to task, Ludwig solemnly declared in writing that he had “never exacted the last favours” from Lola Montez, and furnished the entire episcopal bench with a copy of this declaration.

“That only makes his folly the greater,” was the caustic comment of Canitz, who was not to be deluded by eye-wash of this description.

With the passage of time, Lola’s influence at the Palace grew stronger. Before long, it became abundantly clear to the Ministry that she was the real channel of approach to the King and, in fact, his political Egeria. “During that period,” says T. Everett Harre, “when she was known throughout the world as the ’Uncrowned Queen of Bavaria,’ Lola Montez wielded a power perhaps enjoyed by no woman since the Empress Theodora, the circus mime and courtesan, was raised to imperial estate by the Emperor Justinian.” Well aware of this fact, and much as they objected to it, the Cabinet, headed by von Abel, began by attempting to win her to their side. When they failed, they put their thick heads together, and, announcing that she was an emissary of Palmerston just as La Paiva was credited with being in Bismarck’s employ they hinted that her room was preferable to her company. The hints having no effect, other measures were adopted. Thus, Ludwig’s sister offered her a handsome sum (for the second time) to leave the country, and Metternich improved on it; the Bishop of Augsburg, drying his tears, composed another and longer special prayer; the Cabinet threatened to resign; and caricatures and scurrilous paragraphs once more appeared in Munich journals. But all to no purpose. Lola refused to budge. Nothing could shake her resolve, J’y suis, j’y reste, might well have been her motto.

“I will leave Bavaria,” she said, “when it suits me, and not before.”

II

For ten years Ludwig had been under the thumb of the Ultramontanes and the clerical ministry of Carl von Abel. He was getting more than a little tired of the combination. The advance of Lola Montez widened the breach. To get rid of him, accordingly, he offered von Abel the appointment of Bavarian Minister at Brussels. The offer, however, was not accepted. Asked for his reason, von Abel said that he “wanted to stop where he was and keep an eye on things.”

At this date Bavaria was Catholic to a man and a woman and the Ultramontanes held the reins of government. While one would have been enough, they professed to have two grievances. One was the “political poison” of the Liberal opposition; and the other was the “moral perversion” of the King. In March matters came to a crisis. A number of University professors, headed by the rigid Lasaulx, held an indignation meeting in support of the Ultramontane Cabinet and “their efforts to espouse the cause of good morals.” This activity on the part of a secular body was resented by the clergy, who considered that they, and not the University, were the official custodians of the public’s “morals.” But if it upset the clergy, it upset Ludwig still more; and, to mark his displeasure, he summarily dismissed four of the lecturers he himself had appointed. As the general body of students sided with them, they “demonstrated” in front of the house of Lola Montez, whom they held responsible.

What began as a very ordinary disturbance soon developed into something serious. Tempers ran high; brickbats were thrown, and windows smashed; there were collisions with the police, who endeavoured to arrest the ringleaders; and finally the Karolinen Platz had to be cleared by a squadron of Cuirassiers. The Alemannia, joining arms, forced a passage through which Lola managed to slip to safety and reach the gates of the Residenz. But it was, as she said, “a near thing.”

The crowd relieved their feelings by breaking a few more windows; and a couple of Alemannia, detached from their comrades, were ducked in the Isar.

“Vivat, Lola!” bellowed one contingent.

“Pereat, Lola!” bellowed the opposition.

Accounts of the disturbance filtered through to England. There they attracted much attention and acid criticism.

“A lady,” remarked the Examiner, “has overthrown the Holy Alliance of Southern Germany. Lola Montez, whose affecting testimony during the trial of those who killed Dujarier in a duel cannot but be remembered, was driven by that catastrophe to seek her fortunes in other realms. Chance brought her to Munich, the Sovereign of which capital has divided his time between poetry and the arts, gallantry and devotion.”

“What Paphian cestus,” was another sour comment, “does Lola wind round the blade of her poniard? We all remember how much the respectable Juno was indebted to the bewitching girdle of a less regular fair one, but the properties of that talisman are still undescribed.”

The Thunderer, in its capacity as a European watch-dog, had its eye on Ludwig and his dalliance along the primrose path. Disapproval was registered. “The King of Bavaria,” solemnly announced a leading article, “has entirely forgotten the duties and dignities of his position.”

Freiherr zu Canitz, however, who had succeeded von Buelow as Minister for Foreign Affairs, looked upon Ludwig’s lapse with more indulgence. “It is not,” he wrote from the Wilhelmstrasse, “the first time by any means that kings have chosen to live with dancers. While such conduct is not, perhaps, strictly laudable, we can disregard it if it be accompanied by a certain measure of decorum. Still, a combination of ruler-ship and dalliance with a vagrant charmer is a phenomenon that is as much out of place as is an attempt to govern a country by writing sonnets.”

Availing herself of what was then, as now, looked upon as a natural safety-valve, Lola herself wrote to the Times, giving her own version of these happenings:

I left Paris in June last on a professional trip; and, among other arrangements, decided upon visiting Munich where, for the first time, I had the honour of appearing before His Majesty and receiving from him marks of appreciation, which is not a very unusual thing for a professional person to receive at a foreign Court.

I had not been here a week before I discovered that there was a plot existing in the town to get me out of it, and that the party was the Jesuit Party.... When they saw that I was not likely to leave them, they tried what bribery would do; and actually offered me 50,000 fcs. a year if I would quit Bavaria and promise never to return. This, as you may imagine, opened my eyes; and, as I indignantly refused their offer, they have since not left a stone unturned to get rid of me.... Within this last week a Jesuit professor of philosophy at the university here, named Lasaulx, was removed. Thereupon, the party paid and hired a mob to insult me and break the windows of my house.

... Knowing that your columns are always open to protect anyone unjustly accused, and more especially when that one is an unprotected female, makes me rely upon you for the insertion of this; and I have the honour to subscribe myself, your obliged servant,

LOLA MONTEZ.

A couple of weeks later Printing House Square was favoured with a second epistle:

To the Editor of “The Times."

MUNICH,

March 31.

SIR: In consequence of the numerous reports circulated in various papers regarding myself and family, I beg of you, through the medium of your widely circulated journal, to insert the following:

I was born at Seville in the year 1833; my father was a Spanish officer in the service of Don Carlos; my mother, a lady of Irish extraction, born at the Havannah, and married to an Irish gentleman, which, I suppose, is the cause of my being called sometimes Irish and sometimes English, and “Betsy Watson,” and “Mrs. James,” etc.

I beg leave to say that my name is Maria Dolores Porres
Montez, and I have never changed that name.

As for my theatrical qualifications, I never had the presumption to think I had any. Circumstances obliged me to adopt the stage as a profession, which profession I have now renounced for ever, having become a naturalised Bavarian, and intending in future making Munich my residence.

Trusting that you will give this insertion, I have the
honour to remain, Sir,

Your obedient servant,

LOLA MONTEZ.

The assumption that she had ever been known as “Betsy Watson” was due to the fact that she was said at one period to have lived under this name in Dublin, “protected there by an Irishman of rank and fortune.” With regard to the rest of the letter, this was much the same as the one she had circulated after her London fiasco. It was very far from being well founded. Still, she had repeated this story so often that she had probably come to believe in it herself.

As The Times at that period was not read in Munich to any great extent, Lola, wanting a larger public, sent a letter to the Allegemeine Zeitung. This, she thought, would secure her a measure of sympathy not accorded her elsewhere:

“I object to being made a target for countless malicious attacks public and private, written and printed some whispered in secret, and others uttered to the world. I therefore now stigmatise as a wicked liar and perverter of the truth any individual who shall, without proving it, disseminate any report to my detriment.”

The letter was duly published. The attacks, however, did not end. On the contrary, they redoubled in virulence. All sorts of fresh charges were brought against her. Many of them were quite unfounded, and deliberately ignored much that might have been put to her credit. Lola had not done nearly as much harm as some of Ludwig’s lights o’ love. Her predecessors, however, had made themselves subservient to the Jesuits and clericals. When her friends sent protests to the editor, refuge was taken in the stereotyped reply: “pressure on our space does not permit us to continue this correspondence.”

By those who wished her ill, any stick was good enough with which to beat Lola Montez. Thus, when a dignitary died no matter what the medical diagnosis it was announced in the gutter press that he died of “grief, caused by the national shame.” The alleged last words of a certain politician were declared to be: “I die because I cannot continue living under the orders of a strumpet who rules our dear Bavaria as if she were a princess.” Ludwig took it calmly. “The real trouble with this poor fellow,” he said, “is that he never experienced the revivifying effects of the love of a beautiful woman.” A popular prescription. The local doctors, however, were coy about recommending it to their patients.

That the Munich disturbances had an aftermath is clear from a news item that appeared in the Cologne Gazette of July, 3, 1847. Lola, wanting a change of air and scene, had gone on a tour, travelling incognita and without any escort. Still, as she was to discover, it was impossible for her to move without being recognised:

According to letters from Bavaria, it is obvious that the animosities excited against Lola Montez earlier in the year are far from having subsided. On passing through Nuremberg, she was received with coldness, but decency. At Bamberg, however, it was very different. At the railway station she was hissed and hooted, and, stones being thrown at her carriage, she presented her pistols and threatened to punish her assailants. The upper classes were thoroughly ashamed of such excesses; and the chief magistrate has been instructed to appoint a deputation of the leading citizens to apologise to Mademoiselle.

In a letter to his brother, dated July 7, 1847, a University student says: “Lola Montez was near being assassinated three days ago,” but he gives no particulars. Hence, it was probably gossip picked up in a beer hall.

III

A grievance felt by Lola was that she was not accorded recognition among the aristocracy. But there was an obvious remedy. This was to grant her a coronet. After all, historic examples were to hand by the dozen. In modern times the mistress of Frederick William III had been made a duchess. Hence, Lola felt that she should be at least a countess.

“What special services have you rendered Bavaria?” bluntly demanded the minister to whom she first advanced the suggestion.

“If nothing else, I have given the King many happy days,” was Lola’s response.

Curiosity was then exhibited as to whether she was sufficiently hoch-geboren, or not. The applicant herself had no doubts on the subject. Her father, Ensign Gilbert, she said, had the blood of Coeur-de-Lion in his veins, and her mother’s ancestors were among the Council of the Inquisition.

When the matter was referred to him, Ludwig was sympathetic and readily promised his help. But as she was a foreigner, she would, he pointed out, have to start by becoming naturalised as a Bavarian subject; and, under the constitution, the necessary indigenate certificate must bear the signature of a Cabinet Minister. For this purpose, and never thinking that the slightest difficulty would be advanced, he had one drawn up and sent to Count Otto von Steinberg. Much to his annoyance and surprise, however, that individual, “suddenly developing conscientious objections,” excused himself. Thereupon, von Abel, as head of the Government, was instructed to secure another signature.

“Do not worry. It will be settled to-morrow,” announced Ludwig, when Lola enquired the reason of the hitch.

He was, however, speaking without his book. The Ministry, Ultramontane to a man, could swallow a good deal, in order to retain their portfolios (and salaries), but this, they felt, was asking too much of them. In unctuous terms, and taking refuge in offended virtue, they declared they would resign, rather than countenance the grant of Bavarian nationality for “the foreign woman.” Neither pressure nor threats would shake them. Ludwig could do what he pleased; and they would do what they pleased.

The manifesto in which the Cabinet’s decision was delivered is little short of an historic document:

MUNICH.

February 11, 1847.

Sir: Public life has its moments when those entrusted by their Sovereign with the proper conduct of public affairs have to make their choice between renouncing the duties to which they are pledged by loyalty and devotion, and, by discharging those duties in conscientious fashion, incurring the displeasure of their beloved Sovereign. We, the faithful servants of Your Majesty, have now found ourselves in this situation owing to the decision to grant Bavarian nationality to Senora Lola Montez. As we cannot forget the duties that our oath compels us to observe, we cannot flinch in our resolve....

It is abundantly clear that reverence for the Throne is becoming weakened in the minds of your subjects; and little is now heard in all directions but blame and disapproval. National sentiment is wounded, because the country considers itself to be under the dominion of a foreign woman of evil reputation. The obvious facts are such that it is impossible to adopt any other view.... The public journals print the most shocking anecdotes, together with the most degrading attacks on your Royal Majesty. As a sample of this, we append a copy of N of the Ulner Chronic. The vigilance of the police is powerless to check the circulation of these journals, and they are read everywhere.... Not only is the Government being jeopardised, but also the very existence of the Crown. Hence, the delight of such as wish ill to the Throne, and the anguish of such as are loyal to Your Majesty. The fidelity of the army, too, is threatened. Ere long, the forces of the Crown will become a prey to profound disaffection; and where could we look for help, should this occur and this last bulwark totter?

The hearts of the undersigned loyal and obedient servants are torn with grief. This statement they submit to you is not one of visionaries. It is the melancholy result of observations made by them during the exercise of their functions for several months past. Each of the undersigned is ready and willing to surrender everything to his Sovereign. They have given you repeated proofs of their fidelity; and it is now nothing less than their sacred duty to direct the attention of your Majesty to the dangers confronting him. Our humble prayer, to which we beg you to listen, is not governed by any desire to run counter to your Royal will. It is put forward solely with a view to ending a condition of affairs which is inimical to the well-being and happiness of a beloved monarch. Should, however, your Majesty not think fit to grant their petition, we, your Ministers, will then have no alternative but to tender the resignation of the portfolios with which you have entrusted them.

The signatories to this precious “manifesto” were von Abel, von Gumpenberg (Minister of War), von Schrenk, and von Seinsheim (Councillors of State). Much to their hurt astonishment, their resignations were accepted. Nor was there any lack of candidates for the vacant portfolios. Ludwig, prompted by Lola, filled up the gaps at once. Georg von Maurer (who reciprocated by signing her certificate of naturalisation) was appointed Minister of Justice and Foreign Affairs, and Freiherr Friederich zu Rhein was the new Minister of Public Worship and Finance.

The students, not prepared to let slip a chance of asserting themselves, paraded the streets with a fresh song:

Da kam Senorra Lolala, Sturzt Abel und Consorten; Ach war sie doch jetz wieder da, Und jagte fort den

Despite the fact that he was indebted for his appointment to her, Maurer attempted to snub Lola and refused to speak to her the next time they met. For his pains, he found himself, in December, 1847, dismissed from office. There was, however, joy in the ranks of the clerical party, for, to their horror, he happened to be a Protestant.

“I have now a new ministry, and there are no more Jesuits in Bavaria,” announced Ludwig with much complacence. As was his custom when a national crisis occurred, he was also delivered of a sonnet, commencing:

You who have wished to hold me in thrall, tremble!
Greatly do I esteem the important affair
Which has ever on divested you of your power!

But the fallen ministers had the sympathy of Vienna. Count Senfft, the Austrian envoy at Munich, gave a banquet in their honour. Lola reported this to Ludwig, and Ludwig gave Senfft his congé.

What had annoyed the Wittelsbach Lovelace more than anything else about the business was that the memorandum in which von Abel and his colleagues had expressed their candid opinion of Lola Montez found its way into the Augsburger Zeitung and a number of Paris journals. This was regarded by him as a breach of confidence. Enquiries revealed the fact that von Abel’s sister had been surreptitiously shown a copy of the document, and, not prepared to keep such a tit-bit of gossip to herself, had disclosed its contents to a reporter. After this, the fat, so to speak, was in the fire; and nothing that Ludwig could do could prevent the affair becoming public property. As a result, it formed the basis of innumerable articles in the press of Europe, and the worst possible construction was put on it.

The erudite Dr. Doellinger, between whom and Lola Montez no love was lost, was much upset by the situation and wrote a long letter on the subject:

The existing ministry were fully awake to the encroachments of the notorious Lola Montez; and in view of the destruction which menaced both the throne and the country, they secretly resolved to address a petition to Ludwig I, humbly praying him to dismiss his favourite, and setting forth the grounds on which they based their request.

Rumours of this business soon got afloat. People began to whisper; and one fine day a sister of one of the ministers, goaded by curiosity, discovered the petition. She imparted the news in the strictest confidence to her most intimate friends; and they, in their turn, secretly read the memorial, with the result that, some time after the important document had been safely restored to its hiding-place, its contents appeared, nobody knew how, in the newspapers.

The panic of the ministers was great; the King’s displeasure was still greater. He suspected treachery, and considered the publication of such a petition treasonable. Remonstrances were of no avail; the ministers were dismissed, and their adherents fled in every direction. I, who had been nominated a member of the Chamber by the University, but against my will, had to resign office at the bidding of the King. His Majesty was greatly incensed, and meanwhile the excited populace were assembling in crowds before the house of Lola Montez.

Doellinger was a difficult man to cross. He had doubts serious doubts concerning a number of matters. Among them was one of the infallibility of the Pope. What was more, he was daring enough to express these doubts. The wrath of the Vatican could only be appeased by ex-communicating him from the Church. He, however, added to his contumacy by surviving until his ninety-second year.

IV

Appreciating on which side its bread was buttered, the new ministry had no qualms as to the eligibility of Lola Montez for the honour of a coronet in the Bavarian peerage. This having been granted her, the next step was to select a suitable territorial title.

Ludwig ran an exploring finger down the columns of a gazetteer. There he saw two names, Landshut and Feldberg, that struck him as suggestive. Combined, they made up Landsfeld. Nothing could be better.

“I have it,” he said. “Countess of Landsfeld, I salute you!”

Thereupon the Court archivist was instructed to prepare the necessary document:

“We, Ludwig, King of Bavaria, etc., hereby make public to all concerned that We have resolved to raise Maria von Porres and Montez, of noble Spanish descent, to the dignity of Countess of Landsfeld of this Our kingdom. Whilst we impart to her the dignity of a Countess, with all the rights, honours and prerogatives connected therewith, it is Our desire that she have and enjoy the following escutcheon on a German four-quartered shield: In the first field, red, an upright white sword with golden handle; in the second, blue, a golden-crowned lion rampant; the third, blue, a silver dolphin; and in the fourth, white, a pale red rose. This shield shall be surmounted by the coronet of a Countess.

“Be this notified to all the authorities and to Our subjects in general, with a view to not only recognising the said Maria as Countess of Landsfeld, but also to supporting her in that dignity; and it is Our will that whoever shall act contrary to these provisions shall be summoned by Our Attorney-General and there and then be condemned to make public and private atonement.

“For Our confirmation of the above we have affixed Our royal
name to this document and placed on it the seal of Our
kingdom.

“Given at Aschaffensberg, this 14th of August, in the 1847th
year after the birth of Christ, our Lord, and in the 22nd
year of Our Government.”

This did not miss the eagle eye of Punch, in whose columns appeared a caustic reference:

“The armorial bearings of the new COUNTESS OF LANDSFELD, the ex-coryphée of Her Majesty’s Theatre, have been designed, but we think they are hardly so appropriate as they might have been. We have therefore made some slight modifications of the original, which we hope will prove satisfactory.”

The suggested “modifications” were to substitute a parasol for the sword, a bulldog for the lion, and a pot of rouge for the rose. Were such an adjunct of the toilet table then in existence, a lipstick would probably have been added.

V

With her title and heraldic honours complete, plus a generous allowance on which to support them, and a palace in which to live, Lola Montez cut a very considerable dash in Munich. Two sentries marched up and down in front of her gate, and two mounted orderlies (instead of one, as had previously been the case) accompanied her whenever she left the house in the Barerstrasse.

While by far the most important of them, Ludwig was not by any means the only competitor for Lola’s favours. Men of wealth and position the bearers of high-sounding titles with politicians and place-hunters, fluttered round her. It is to her credit that she sent them about their business.

“The peculiar relations existing between the King of Bavaria and the Countess of Landsfeld,” remarked an apologist, “are not of a coarse or vulgar character. His Majesty has a highly developed poetic mind, and thus sees his favourite through his imagination, and regards her with affectionate respect.”

This found a responsive echo in another quarter, and some sharp raps on the knuckles were administered to the Bavarian moralists by a Paris journal:

“Why do you interfere with the amours of your good Ludwig? We don’t say he should not have observed rather more discretion or have avoided compromising his dignity. Still, a monarch, like a simple citizen, is surely free to love where he pleases. In selecting Lola Montez, the amorous Ludwig proves that he loves equality and, as a true democrat, can identify himself with the public. Let him espouse his servant girl, if he wants to. Personally, we would rather see the Bavarians excite themselves about their constitution than about the banishment of a royal favourite. The King of Bavaria turns his mistress into a Countess; his subjects refuse to recognise her; and a section of the students clamour for her head. Happy days of Montespan, of Pompadour, of Dubarry, of Potemkin, of Orloff, where have you gone?”

In the summer of 1847 the Paris Courts were occupied with a long outstanding claim against Lola Montez. This was to the effect that, when she was appearing at the Porte St. Martin, she had run up a bill for certain intimate undergarments and had neglected to settle the account. The result was, she received a solicitor’s letter in Munich. She answered it in the following terms:

MUNICH,

September 25, 1847.

MONSIEUR BLOQUE,

As I have never given any orders to Messrs. Hamon and Company, tailors, rue de Helder, they have no claim on me; and I am positively compelled to repudiate the bill for 1371 francs which you have the effrontery to demand in the name of this firm.

Last spring Monsieur Leigh made me a present of a riding-habit and certain other articles which he ordered for me, and I consider that it is to him you should now address yourself.

Accept, Monsieur, etc.,

COUNTESS DE LANDSFELD.

Not being prepared to accept this view, the Paris firm’s next step was to bring an action for the recovery of the alleged debt. Once more, Lola repudiated liability, this time on the grounds that the creditors had kept back some dress material belonging to herself. The defence to this charge was that, “on being informed by their representative that real ladies could not wear such common stuff, she had said she did not want it back.” The court, however, held that the debt had been incurred; and, “as she considered it beneath her dignity to appear, either in person or by counsel,” judgment for 2,500 francs was given against her.

Count Bernstorff, a not particularly brilliant diplomatist, had an idea (shared, by the way, with a good many others) that Frederick William IV, King of Prussia, was at one time under Lola’s spell. He was allowed to think so by reason of a letter that the King had sent him from Sans Souci in the autumn of 1847:

“I am charging you, my dear Count, with a commission, the performance of which demands a certain degree of that measure of delicacy which I recognise you to possess. The commission is somewhat beyond the accepted limits of what is purely diplomatic in character.... It is a matter of handing a certain trinket to a certain lady. The trinket is of little value, but, from causes you will be able to appreciate, the lady’s favour is of very high value to myself. All depends on the manner in which the gift is presented. This should be sufficiently flattering to increase the value of the offering and to cause its unworthiness to be overlooked. My acquaintance with the lady, and my respect for her, should be adroitly described and made the most of, as must also be my desire to be remembered at her hands.

“You will, of course, immediately perceive that I am
alluding to Donna Maria de Dolores de los Montez, Countess
of Landsfeld.”

It was not until he turned over the page that the horror-struck Bernstorff saw that the King was playing a characteristic jest on him; and he realised that the intended recipient of the gift was his wife, the Countess von Bernstorff, “as a souvenir of my gratitude for the many agreeable hours passed under your hospitable roof last month.”