XXX In Australia
Even to the antipodes—in the ’fifties unconnected by the telegraph with the rest of the world, and distant a three months’ journey from England—the fame of the Countess of Landsfeld had extended. Her name had travelled completely round the world, and was as familiar to the people of Sydney as to those of London and Paris. Lola found that her prolonged rest cure had weakened in no way her hold on public curiosity. The moment for her arrival in New South Wales was not, however, well chosen. Commerce and agriculture were alike depressed, and the mind of the Colonists was preoccupied with the business of constitution-making. The city lay, too, under the spell of a celebrated Irish singer, Miss Catherine Hayes, “the sweet swan of Erin.” It is, perhaps, worth noting that this vocalist was born at the same town as Lola, was married at the same church (St. George’s, Hanover Square), and was to die the same year; that she made her début under the same manager (Benjamin Lumley), at the same theatre, and that the two women had for the last year or two trodden undeviatingly in each other’s footsteps. Miss Hayes had been in possession of the Prince of Wales’s Theatre nearly a fortnight, when Lola’s arrival startled the eldest Australian city. The newcomer was engaged by Tonning of the Victoria Theatre, and was announced to appear, together with Mr. Lambert, Mr. Falland, and Mr. C. Jones, on 23rd August 1855, in the four-act drama, Lola Montez in Bavaria. The theatre was crowded to excess.
“The Countess looked charming, and acted very archly. She was cheered vociferously, and recalled before the curtain, when she delivered a short address. Mr. Lambert (well known in London) created quite a sensation in the King of Bavaria (by which name he is now known), and at the end of the performance the Countess presented him with a handsome bundle of cigarettes—a very great compliment, as she is an inveterate smoker, and seldom gives any cigars away.
“The excitement about her immediately empties the Prince of Wales’s Theatre, and Miss Hayes is then taken suddenly ill. Two nights after the Countess of Landsfeld is seriously indisposed, and Miss Hayes recovers. Her recovery restores Lola Montez to perfect health.”27
On 27th August she appeared in Yelva, or the Orphan of Russia, “a new and exciting drama” she had herself translated from the French. On Wednesday, 6th September, she took a benefit, playing in The Follies of a Night, and two farces. Into one of these she introduced her “Spider Dance,” which seems to have outraged colonial opinion. We need not condemn it on that account as immodest, for in our own day we have seen a performance interdicted as offensive to public morals in Manchester, and pronounced (rightly) to be the quintessence of mobile grace and the truest poetry of motion in the not less considerable city of London. Immodesty in the minds of many people definitely connotes that which pleases the eyes and the senses.
Business continued dull at Sydney, and Lola departed in the second week of September for Melbourne. A dispute had arisen between her and another member of her company, Mrs. Fiddes, who issued a writ of attachment against her. Brown, the sheriff, went aboard the steamer to apprehend Lola, who retired to her cabin till the vessel was well under weigh. She then sent word that the officer could arrest her if he would, but she was obliged to tell him that she was quite naked. The bold expedient was, of course, successful. “Poor Brown,” we are told, “blushed and retired, and was put on shore at the Heads, about twenty miles from Sydney, and was greeted on his return to the city with roars of laughter.” The sheriff evidently did not object to repeating a good story, even at his own expense.
At Melbourne, Lola must have been vividly reminded of California. The gold fever was at its height. The population of the Port Philip district had swollen in five years from 76,000 to 364,000, of which number at least two-thirds were men. Men, too, they were, of every nationality under the sun, and of every class, though the more criminal and dangerous elements were in the ascendant. In ’55 life and property were, notwithstanding, somewhat more secure here than in California, thanks to the firmer, less corrupt administration of British officials. Prices were, it need not be said, extravagantly high, though the barest necessities of decent life were hardly obtainable outside Melbourne and Geelong. A goldfield would seem to be one of the most brutalising environments to which a human being can adapt himself.
For our knowledge of Lola’s doings in the Victorian capital, we are indebted to the Era’s local correspondent. He writes:—
“Lola Montez made her début on 21st September, in a short drama allusive to her own Bavarian transactions, but the piece might well have borne curtailment. There was a very crowded audience. The ci-devant Countess of Landsfeld seemed determined to preserve her notoriety intact by the selection, but entrenched so far upon decorum in the ‘Spider Dance’ on a subsequent evening, that she did not face the clamour raised in consequence till the objectionable portions were agreed to be omitted. She is certainly a very singular character, but there is an ever lively and brusque style in her action that seems to catch general approbation for the time being.
“After a brief stay, Lola departed for Geelong; but there, I learn, her performances were freely condemned. Indeed, their laxness was also much canvassed with us, and the more staid of the visitors openly enough expressed their censure. Subsequently to the performance, Dr. Milman demanded of the Mayor at the City Court, in the name of an outraged community, that a warrant be issued against all repetition of the performances of Mme. Lola Montez at the Theatre Royal. The Mayor referred the matter to the private room of the magistrates, considering that should be the proper place for its discussion. The bench declared that the law would not sustain them in issuing a warrant unless the Doctor had actually witnessed the performance, and had his information properly attested by witnesses. This he declared he would do.”
The methods of these self-constituted champions of outraged morality are the same in every age. They condemn first, and collect evidence afterwards—if at all.
Opinion in Geelong does not seem to have been as hostile as the Era’s correspondent supposed. In the Geelong Advertiser of 10th October is to be found the following paragraph:—
Illness of Lola Montez
“Owing to severe indisposition, this talented actress is unable to appear before a Geelong audience. When competent to perform, her reappearance will be duly notified. Madame is suffering from severe cold and bronchitis, and is now under the care of Dr. Thompson, of Melbourne. To previous indisposition was superadded a severe attack induced by exposure to the thunderstorm on Saturday.”
Lola’s illness was of a passing character. That it in no way impaired her vigour we shall presently see. From Melbourne she proceeded to the goldfields, moving among the most desperate characters of the two hemispheres undismayed and unafraid, a woman capable of defending herself with whip and tongue. A singular character, in truth was hers, thus equally at home in kings’ courts and miners’ camps, able to parry and to counterplot against the schemes and intrigues of Metternich, able to subdue and to tame the half-savage ex-convicts and desperadoes of the Australian diggings.
At Ballaarat occurred the celebrated fracas with Mr. Seekamp. This man was the editor of the local newspaper (the Times), and upon Lola’s arrival in the town, he published an article, putting the worst construction on the episodes of her past life, and reflecting in uncomplimentary terms on her character. He was, no doubt, another guardian of public morality, which in mining camps is, of course, a very delicate growth. A few evenings afterwards, he was so rash as to call at the United States Hotel, where the woman he had traduced was staying. Being informed that he was below, Lola ran downstairs with a riding-whip, and laid it across his back with right good will. The journalist also held a whip, with which he defended himself lustily. Before long the combatants had each other literally by the hair. The bystanders interposed, and the two were separated, but not before life-preservers and revolvers had been produced. It seems to us an unedifying performance, though a woman, if insulted, has undoubtedly the right to chastise her offender physically, if she is able. Such was the view taken by the miners of Ballaarat. At the theatre that evening she was the object of an ovation, which she acknowledged at the conclusion of the performance.
“I thank you,” she said, “most sincerely for your friendship. I regret to be obliged to refer again to Mr. Seekamp, but it is not my fault, as he again in this morning’s paper repeated his attack upon me. You have heard of the scene that took place this afternoon. Mr. Seekamp threatens to continue his charges against my character. I offered, though a woman, to meet him with pistols; but the coward who could beat a woman, ran from a woman. He says he will drive me off the diggings; but I will change the tables, and make Seekamp decamp (applause). My good friends, again I thank you.”28
This conduct was “unladylike,” no doubt, but courageous; ungracious, but absolutely necessary.
Seekamp, bruised and humiliated, thirsted for revenge. We find him publishing a story of his conqueror’s defeat in the Ballaarat Times. The authority can hardly be regarded as unimpeachable, but with amusing simplicity it has been accepted as such by all who have written about Lola. According, then, to the ungallant Mr. Seekamp, the Countess of Landsfeld was engaged by a manager, named Crosby—of what theatre is not stated. At “treasury” the actress had a misunderstanding with this gentleman, and flew into a violent rage. At this opportune moment a relief force appeared in the person of Mrs. Crosby, armed with a whip. With this she chastised Lola so severely that the weapon broke. The antagonists then threw themselves upon each other, and the rest (says the delicately-minded journalist) may be imagined rather than described. Mr. Seekamp’s recent experience should indeed have enabled him to imagine such a scene without difficulty; in fact, he probably imagined this one. He concludes: “At last this terrible virago has found, not her master, but her mistress, and for many a long day will be incapable of performing at any theatre.”
These words were written, possibly, while Lola was on her way to Europe. She appears to have quitted Australia in March or April 1856. With her arrival in France in August that year, she completed her trip round the world.