The leader of the old Catholic party, Joseph Görres, worked actively against her, and the press was not slow to fan the flame. Libels and lampoons were spread broadcast throughout the city, enraging the dancer, who in revenge forced the King to gratify all her wishes and drew him ever deeper into her toils. To annoy her enemies, and at the same time obtain entrance for herself into the highest circles, she persuaded the King to make her a countess. This he could not do, however, without the consent of his ministers, who positively refused to agree to such an act; furthermore they sent a memorandum to the King urging that Lola be expelled from the kingdom. Ludwig replied to this request by dismissing not only the entire ministry, but many of their adherents, among whom were several professors in the university; and from this time on “the Bavarian Pompadour,” as Lola Montez has been called, became an important factor in politics. The university was now like the glowing crater of a volcano whence issued all the pent-up hatred and discontent, and on the ninth of February, 1848, came the first great eruption. Lola, whose southern blood craved excitement, attempted to show herself among the riotous throngs, but was forced to take refuge in a church, thoroughly frightened for once. The King was furious when he heard of this, and as the students had been at the bottom of the demonstration, he ordered the university closed and all non-resident students sent away from Munich. The next day the whole body of students marched through the Karlstrasse to the house of their distinguished chaplain, Professor Thiersch, singing songs of farewell, and greeted with cheers from every window they passed. There was a close bond of sympathy between the university and the citizens, who held a meeting at once, protesting against the severity of the King’s order and petitioning him to open the university again. Ludwig promised to take the matter into consideration, and after a conference with his ministers agreed to yield to the wishes of the citizens, furthermore proclaiming that the Countess Landsfeld, as Lola was now called, should be requested to leave Munich. “No one shall come between me and my people,” he declared. This news was received with great rejoicing and the house in which the hated favorite lived was surrounded day and night by curious throngs, anxiously awaiting her departure. At last, on the morning of the eleventh of February, the doors were suddenly thrown open by a squad of police, and before the crowd outside realized what was happening, the coach containing the Countess had started off at a furious gallop on the road to Blutenburg. From there she fled to Lindau and thence to England, subsequently making her way to the United States and later to Australia, where she died in 1861 at the age of forty, after a varied and adventurous career.