After this "demonstration," there was a calm. But not for long. On the evening of February 10, a rabble assembled in front of the Palace, raising cries of: "Down with Lola Montez!" "Down with the King's strumpet!" As the protestors consisted largely of students (whom Thiersch, the rector, being no disciplinarian, could not keep in check), Ludwig's response was drastic. He ordered the University to be shut, and all its members who did not live in Munich to leave the town within twenty-four hours. This was a tactical blunder, and was in great measure responsible for the more serious repercussions of the following month. Apart, too, from other considerations, the edict hit the pockets of the local tradesmen, since the absence of a couple of thousand hungry and thirsty customers had an adverse effect on the consumption of sauerkraut and beer.
As she was still "news" in Paris, a gossiping columnist suggested her return there: Lola Montez laments the Notre-Dame de Lorette district, the joyous little supper-parties at the Café Anglais, and the theatrical first nights viewed from stage boxes. "Ah," she must reflect, as she looks upon her coronet trodden underfoot and hears the sinister murmurs of the Munich mob, "how delightful Paris would be this evening! What a grand success I would be in the new ballet at the Opera or at a ball at the Winter Garden!" Alas, my poor Lola, your whip is broken; your prestige is gone; you have lost your talisman. Do not battle against the jealous Bavarians. Come back to Paris, instead. If the Porte St. Martin won't have you, you can always rejoin the corps de ballet at the Opera.
Lola, however, did not accept the invitation. She was virtually a prisoner in her own house, where, the next afternoon, a furious gathering assembled, threatening to wreak vengeance on her. Never lacking a high measure of courage, she appeared on the balcony and told them to do their worst. They did it and attempted to effect an entrance by breaking down the door. But for the action of the Alemannia, rallying to her help, she might have been severely handled.
One of her bodyguard managed to make his way to the nearest barracks and summon assistance. Thereupon, the bugles rang out the alarm; the drums beat a warning call. In response, a squadron of Cuirassiers clattered up the Barerstrasse; sabres rattled; and the rioters fled precipitously.
Prince Wallerstein, who combined the office of Minister of Public Worship with that of Treasurer of the Royal Household, leaping into the breach, harangued the mob; and Prince Vrede, a strong adherent to the "whiff of grapeshot" remedy for a disturbance, suggested firing on the ringleaders. Although the suggestion was not accepted, hundreds of arrests were made before some semblance of order was restored. But the rioting was only checked temporarily. A couple of days later it started afresh. The temper of the troops being upset, Captain Bauer (a young officer whom Lola had patronised) took it upon himself to give them the word to charge. Sabres flashed, and there were many broken heads and a good deal of bloodshed.