The Magnificent Montez | Page 8

There they took the packet
and crossed over to Ireland, where James had relatives, who, he
promised, would look after her until their marriage should be
accomplished.
"Elopement in High Life!" A tit-bit of gossip for the tea-tables and for
the bucks at the clubs. No longer a sleepy hollow. Bath was in the
"news."
It was not until they were gone that Mrs. Craigie discovered what had
happened. Her first reaction was one of furious indignation. This,
however, was natural, for not only had her ambitious project gone
astray, but she had been deceived by the very man she had trusted. It
was more than enough to upset anybody, especially as she was also
confronted with the unpleasant task of writing to Sir Abraham Lumley,
and telling him what had happened. As a result, she announced that she
would "wash her hands" of the pair of them.
While it was one thing to run away, it was, as Lola soon discovered,
another thing to get married. An unexpected difficulty presented itself,
as the parish priest whom they consulted refused to perform the
ceremony for so young a girl without being first assured of her mother's
consent. Mrs. Craigie, erupting tears and threats, declined to give it.

Thereupon, James's married sister, Mrs. Watson, sprang into the breach
and pointed out that "things have gone so far that it is now too late to
draw back, if scandal is to be avoided." The argument was effective;
and, a reluctant consent having been secured, on July 23, 1837, the
"position was regularised" by the bridegroom's brother, the Rev. John
James, vicar of Rathbiggon, County Meath. "Thomas James, bachelor,
Lieutenant, 21st Bengal Native Infantry, and Rose Anna Gilbert,
condition, spinster," was the entry on the certificate.
[Illustration: Her Majesty's Theatre, Haymarket, where Lola Montez
made her début]
After a short honeymoon in Dublin, first at the Shamrock Hotel, and
then in rather squalid lodgings (for cash was not plentiful), Lola was
taken back to her husband's relatives. They lived in a dull Irish village
on the edge of a peat bog, where the young bride found existence very
boring. Then, too, when the glamour of the elopement had dimmed, it
was obvious that her action in running away from Bath had been
precipitate. Thomas, for all his luxuriant whiskers and dash, was, she
reflected sadly, "nothing but the outside shell of a man, with neither a
brain that she could respect nor a heart she could love." A sorry
awakening from the dreams in which she had indulged. As a matter of
fact, they had nothing in common. The husband, who was sixteen years
his wife's senior, cared for little but hunting and drinking, and Lola's
tastes were mainly for dancing and flirting.
It was in Dublin, where, much to her satisfaction, her spouse was
ordered on temporary duty, that she discovered a ready outlet for these
activities.
"Dear dirty Dublin" was, to Lola's way of thinking, a vast improvement
on Rathbiggon. At any rate, there was "society," smart young officers
and rising politicians, instead of clodhopping squireens and village
boors, to talk to, and shops where the new fashions could be examined,
and theatres with real London actors and actresses. If only she had had
a little money to spend, she would have been perfectly happy. But Tom
James had nothing beyond his pay, which scarcely kept him in cheroots
and car fares. Still, this did not prevent him running up debts.

The Lord Lieutenant of Ireland at that period was the Earl of Mulgrave
("the Elegant Mulgrave"), afterwards Marquess of Normanby. A great
admirer of pretty women, and fond of exercising the Viceregal
privilege of kissing attractive débutantes, the drawing-rooms at the
Castle were popular functions under his regime. He showed young Mrs.
James much attention. The aides-de-camp, prominent among whom
were Bernal Osborne and Francis Sheridan, followed the example thus
set them by their chief; and tickets for balls and concerts and
dinner-parties and drums and routs were showered upon her.
Thinking that these compliments and attentions were being overdone,
Lieutenant James took them amiss and elected to become jealous. He
talked darkly of "calling out" one of his wife's admirers. But before
there could be any early morning pistol-play in the Phoenix Park, an
unexpected solution offered itself. Trouble was suddenly threatened on
the Afghan frontier; and, in the summer of 1837, all officers on leave
from India were ordered to rejoin their regiments. Welcoming the
prospect of thus renewing her acquaintance with a country of which she
still had pleasant memories, Lola set to work to pack her trunks.
If she had followed the advice of a certain "travellers' handbook,"
written by Miss Emma Roberts, that was then very popular, she must
have had a considerable amount of baggage. Thus,