oubled for her engagement there. This was
considered a grievance by the public. The difficulty, however,
adjusted itself, for the programme she offered was one that proved
specially attractive.

"The highest degree of excitement was," ran the _Herald_ criticism,
"produced upon visitors to the Theatre Royal by the actual presence of
this extraordinary and gifted being, with the praises of whose beauty
and _esprit_ the whole civilised world has resounded.... After
curtseying with inimitable grace to the audience, the fair _artiste_
withdrew amidst a fresh volley of cheers."

But Lola, who never missed an opportunity of airing her opinions,
aired them now:

"At the end of the performance," says a report, "Madame Lola Montez
was vociferously called and addressed the audience in an animated
speech, commenting upon some remarks that had been published in a
certain journal. When a gentleman ventured to laugh while she was
enumerating the political benefits she had conferred on Bavaria, the
fair orator promptly informed him that such conduct was not usually
considered to be courteous."

The Melbourne engagement finished up with a triple bill. The
principal item was a novelty she had, the "Spider Dance," which Lola
had brought from America. In this she appeared with hundreds of wire
spiders sewn on her attenuated ballet skirts; and, when any of them
fell off, she had to indulge in pronounced wriggles and contortions to
put them back in position. The accompanying movements of her body were
held to be by some standards "daring and suggestive." In fact, so much
so that the representative of the _Argus_ dubbed the number "the most
libertinish and indelicate performance that could possibly be given on
the public stage. We feel compelled," he continued solemnly, "to
denounce in terms of unmeasured reprobation the performance in which
Madame Montez here figures." Yet, Sir Charles Hotham, the Governor,
together with Lady Hotham and their guests, had witnessed it without
sustaining any serious damage. But perhaps they were made of tougher
material.

The critic of the _Morning Herald_ at this period (understood to be R.
H. Horne, "the Jules Janin of Melbourne") was either less thin-skinned
or else more broad-minded than his _Argus_ comrade. At any rate, he
saw nothing much to call for these strictures. Thinking that the
newcomer had not been given fair play, he endeavoured to counteract
the adverse opinion that had been expressed b