The Magnificent Montez | Page 4

documentary evidence, they have
not been "romantic" enough to fit in with the views of certain foreign
biographers. Accordingly, they have given the child's birthplace as in,
among other cities, Madrid, Lucerne, Constantinople, and Calcutta; and
one of them has even been sufficiently daring to make her a daughter of
Lord Byron. Larousse, too, not to be behindhand, says that she was
"born in Seville, of a Spanish father"; and, alternatively, "in Scotland,
of an English father." Both accounts, however, are emphatic that her
mother was "a young Creole of astonishing loveliness, who had
married two officers, a Spaniard and an Englishman."
It was to Edward Gilbert's credit that he had not joined the Army with
the King's commission in his pocket, but in a more humble capacity,
that of a private soldier. Gallant service in the field had won him
advancement; and in 1817 he was selected for an ensigncy in the 25th
Foot, thus exchanging his musket and knapsack for the sword and sash
of an officer. From the 25th Foot he was, five years later, transferred to

the 44th Foot, commanded by Colonel Morrison. In 1822, its turn
coming round for a spell of foreign service, the regiment moved from
Dublin to Chatham and embarked for India. Sailing with his wife and
child, the young officer, after a voyage that lasted the best (or worst)
part of six months, landed at Calcutta and went into barracks at Fort
William. On arrival there, "the newcomers," says an account that has
been preserved, "were entertained with lavish hospitality and in a
fashion to be compared only with the festivities pictured in the novels
of Charles Lever." But all ranks had strong heads, and were none the
worse for it.
During the ensuing summer the regiment got "the route," and was
ordered up country to Dinapore, a cantonment near Patna, on the
Ganges, that had been founded by Warren Hastings. It was an
unhealthy station, especially for youngsters fresh from England. A
burning sun by day; hot stifling nights; and no breath of wind sweeping
across the parched ghats. Within a few weeks the dreaded cholera made
its appearance; the melancholy roll of muffled drums was heard every
evening at sunset; and Ensign Gilbert was one of the first victims.
[Illustration: "John Company" troops on the march in India]
The widow, it is recorded, was "left to the care and protection of Mrs.
General Brown," the wife of the brigadier. But events were already
marching to their appointed end; and, as a result, this charitable lady
was soon relieved of her charge.
Left a young widow (not yet twenty-five) with a child of five to bring
up, and very little money on which to do it (for her husband had only
drawn 108 rupees a month), the position in which Mrs. Gilbert found
herself was a difficult one. "You can," wrote Lola, years afterwards,
"have but a faint conception of the responsibility." Warm hearts,
however, were at hand to befriend her. The warmest among them was
that of a brother officer of her late husband, Lieutenant Patrick Craigie,
of the 38th Native Infantry, then quartered at Dacca. A bachelor and
possessed of considerable private means, he invited her to share his
bungalow. The invitation was accepted. As a result, there was a certain
amount of gossip. This, however, was promptly silenced by a second

invitation, also accepted, to share his name; and, in August, 1824, Mrs.
Gilbert, renouncing her mourning and her widowhood, blossomed
afresh as Mrs. Craigie. It is said that the ceremony was performed by
Bishop Heber, Metropolitan of Calcutta, who happened to be visiting
Dacca at the time. Very soon afterwards the benedict received a staff
appointment as deputy-adjutant-general at Simla, combined with that of
deputy-postmaster at Headquarters. This sent him a step up the ladder
to the rank of captain and brought a welcome addition to his pay. In the
opinion of the station "gup," some of it not too charitable, the widow
"had done well for herself."
Captain Craigie, who appears to have been a somewhat Dobbin-like
individual, proved an affectionate husband and step-father. The little
girl's prettiness and precocity appealed to him strongly. He could not do
enough for her; and he spoiled her by refusing to check her wayward
disposition and encouraging her mischievous pranks. It was not a good
upbringing; and, as dress and "society" filled the thoughts of her
mother, the "Miss Baba" was left very much to the care of the swarms
of native servants attached to the bungalow. She was petted by all with
whom she came into contact, from the gilded staff of Government
House down to the humblest sepoy and bearer. Lord Hastings, the
Commander-in-Chief--a rigid disciplinarian who had reintroduced the
"cat" when Lord Minto, his predecessor in office,