But, just as Lola had staunch friends in Munich, so had she pronounced enemies. Conspicuous among them was Johann Görres, a leading Ultramontane who held the position of professor of history at the University. He could not say anything strong enough against the King's mistress, and did all he could to upset her influence with him. As he had a "following," some measure of success attended his efforts. It was on his death, in January 1848, that matters came to a head. The rival factions dividing the various students' corps made his funeral the occasion of a free fight among themselves. The mob joined in, and clamoured for the dismissal of the "Andalusian Woman." A hothead suggested that she should be driven from the town. The cry was taken up, and a rush set in towards her house in the Barerstrasse. As there was an agreeable prospect of loot, half the scum of the city swelled the mob. Bricks were hurled through the windows; and, until the police arrived, things began to look ugly.
Lola, as cool as a cucumber, appeared on the balcony, a glass of champagne in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other.
"I drink to your good healths," she said contemptuously, as she drained her glass and tossed bon-bons among the crowd.
Not appreciating this gesture, or regarding it as an impertinence, the temper of the rabble grew threatening. They shouted vulgar insults; and there was talk of battering in the doors and setting the house on fire. This might have happened, had not Ludwig himself, who never lacked personal courage, plunged into the throng and, offering Lola his arm, escorted her to the Residenz.
The disturbances continued, for tempers had reached fever pitch. Troops hastily summoned from the nearest barracks patrolled the streets. A furious crowd assembled in front of the Rathaus; the burgomaster, fearing for his position, talked of reading the Riot Act; a number of arrests were made; and it was not until the next afternoon that the coast was sufficiently clear for Lola to return to the Barerstrasse, triumphantly escorted by some members of the Alemannia. When, however, they left her there, they were set upon by detachments of the Palatia Corps, who still cherished a grudge against them.
Lola's own account of these happenings, and written as if by a detached onlooker, is picturesque, if somewhat imaginative: "They came with cannons and guns and swords, with the voices of ten thousand devils, and surrounded her little castle. Against the entreaties of her friends, she presented herself before the infuriated mob which demanded her life.... A thousand guns were pointed at her, and a hundred fat and apoplectic voices fiercely demanded that she should cause the repeal of what she had done. In language of great mildness--for it was no time to scold--she answered that it was impossible for her to accede to such a request; and that what had been done by her had been done for the good of the people and the honour of Bavaria."