. It was impossible to sing at
Court, for the reigning spirit in the household of King
Ludwig I was the notorious Lola Montez, who was then at the
climax of her ill-gotten power. To have been brought into
contact with such a person would have been intolerable. An
invitation to Court would have rendered such contact
inevitable.

But if Jenny Lind adopted a lofty attitude and refused to fulfil an
engagement in the Bavarian capital, lest she should have chanced to
rub shoulders with Ludwig's mistress, other visitors did not share
these qualms. They arrived in battalions, and evinced no
disinclination to make her acquaintance. "To the shame of the
aristocracy and the arts," says a rigid commentator, "every day there
were to be found at the feet of this Cyprian intruder a throng of
princes and philosophers, authors and painters, and sculptors and
musicians."

Fresh tactics to get her out of Munich were then adopted. When,
however, somebody remarked that Ludwig was old enough to be her
grandfather, she sent him away with a flea in his ear.

"It is ridiculous to talk like that," she said. "My Ludwig's heart is
young. If you knew the strength of his passion, you would not credit
him with being more than twenty!"

As for Ludwig himself he was bombarded with anonymous letters and
warnings, calling Lola by every evil name that occurred to the
writers. She was La Pompadour and the Sempronia of Sallust in one, a
"voluptuous woman," and a "flame of desire." There were also tearful
protests from the higher clergy, who, headed by Archbishop
Diepenbrock, were positive that the "dancing woman" was an emissary of
Satan (sometimes they said of Lord Palmerston) sent from England to
destroy the Catholic religion in Bavaria.

Ludwig was curt with His Grace. "You stick to your _stola_," he said,
"and let me stick to my Lola."

A soft answer, perhaps; but not a very satisfactory one.

"It is all very well for kings to have mistresses," was the opinion of
the more broad-minded, "but they should select them from their own
countrywomen. This one is a foreigner. Why should our hard-earned
money be lavished on her?" The grievance was, as it happened, well
founded, for Lola was drawing 20,000 marks a year, wrung from the
pockets of the tax-payers.

Baron Pechman, the Chief of Police, had a bad reception when he
suggested that the populace might get out of control.

"If you can't manage the mob," said Ludwig,