But this was merely an introduction. There was more to follow, for the "personal" touch had yet to be delivered.
As for myself, you'll find in Lola Montez
The study how to please my constant wont is!
Yet I am vain that I'm the first star here
To shine upon this Thespian hemisphere.
And only hope that when I say "Adieu!"
You'll grant the same I wish to you—
May rich success reward your daily toil,
Nor men nor measures present peace despoil,
And may I nightly see your pleasant faces
With these fair ladies, your attendant Graces!
IV
But, despite this auspicious start, all was not set fair at Ballarat. As had happened in other places, Lola was to fall foul of a critic who had disparaged her. Furiously indignant, and horse-whip in hand, she rushed into the editor's office and executed summary vengeance upon him.
"A full account of this remarkable business," announced the opposition journal, "will be given by us to-morrow. Our readers may anticipate a perfect treat." They got it, too, if one can trust the report of a "few choice observations" delivered by Lola to her audience on the second night of her engagement:
"Ladies and Gentlemen: I am very sure that all of you in this house are my very good friends; and I much regret that I now have a most unpleasant duty to perform. I had imagined that, after all the kindness I have experienced from the miners in California, I should never have had anything painful to say to you. Now, however, I am compelled to do so.
"I speak to the ladies, as members of my own sex, and to the gentlemen, as my natural protectors. Well, what I have to tell you is that there is a certain gentleman in this town called Seekamp. Just take out the E's, and what is left of his name becomes Skamp. Listen to my story, and then judge between us. This Mr. Seekamp, who is the editor of the Ballarat Times, actually told me, in the hearing of another lady and two quite respectable gentlemen, that the miners here were a set of ——. No, I really cannot sully my lips with the shocking word he used—and that I was not to believe them.
"Mr. Seekamp called on me, with a certain proposition, and accepted my hospitality. You all know he is just a little fond of drinking. Well, while he was at my house the sherry, the port, the champagne, and the brandy were never off the table. He ate with me, and he drank with me. In fact, he drank so freely that it was only my self-respect that prevented me having him removed. But I said to myself, 'After all, he is an editor; perhaps this is his little way.'
"Well, I did as Mr. Seekamp wanted, and as a result, I was a ten pound note out of pocket by it. I was green, but I was anxious to avoid making enemies among editors. Yet, when his paper next appears, I am referred to in it as being notorious for my immorality. Notorious, indeed! Why, I defy everybody here, or anywhere else, to say that I am, or ever was, immoral. It's not likely that, if I wanted to be immoral, I should be slaving away and earning my bread by hard work. What do you think?
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I appeal to you. Is it fair or generous of this Seekamp person to behave to me like this? The truth is, my manager, knowing that he was a good-for-nothing fellow, gave my printing orders to another editor. In revenge, the angry Seekamp says he will hound me from this town. Ladies and Gentlemen, I appeal to you for protection."