"The voice was soft, and she who spake
Was walking by her native lake:
The salutation had to me

The very sound of courtesy."

Portraiture is thus a branch of painting which has no exact parallel in poetry, and where particular representations are required painting alone can be employed. Yet it should be remembered that portraiture only rises to the level of high art when it transcends photography and becomes a representation of character; and here the inferiority of poetry vanishes, for no portrait can vie in completeness of characterpainting with a dramatic or lyric poem, though it may excel in compression and general effect.

The difference of medium which we have noticed makes a clear distinction between poetry and painting; yet it must have been felt that even here the barrier line is often very thin, and that the similarity of method which was previously traced, really almost destroys the divergence of which we have latterly been speaking. Such is indeed the case; and just as language may pass insensibly through rhyme into music, so it may perhaps by other paths resolve itself into other sensuous perceptions. Once, at least, the experiment has been deliberately tried. William Blake's 'Songs of Innocence and Experience' are, as poems, becoming to be recognised as in their own way without rivals in our language: the one for ideal simplicity and a perfection of childlike joy, the other for depth of pathos and intensity of imaginative horror. But they were not only poems-and the recent exhibition of his works at the Fine Arts Club has given us an opportunity of seeing that they were pictures too, in a sense which the mere engravings failed to suggest. It would be impossible to conceive a more harmonious union of the two arts than was realised in this unique work. The graceful wreaths of soft colour that "form a shade o'er the lovely infant's head," in the Cradle Song; the "happy skies and merry birds" that join with the sports on the Echoing Green; the "marks of weakness, marks of woe," that are depicted in the ghastly faces of London; the mysterious discords playing in the great music which make up the harmony of the Human Abstract: these are but a few chance examples of the inseparable connection between his verses and his paintings which Blake achieved in his earlier work. It is not only that the words exactly illustrate the pictures, or the pictures exactly embody the words; he intended both to be parts of one sensuous image. This was the meaning of his original method, which he claimed the merit of having invented as being "more ornamental, uniform, and grand than any before discovered," and which consisted in engraving in relief the outlines both of words and designs, the

page being subsequently coloured up and filled in by hand. We may see something of the uniformity and the grandeur, even without the colour, in the wealth of ever-varying lines and plentiful overgrowth from the very heart of the creator, springing and clinging all round the beautiful verses. The contrast between these earlier works of Blake's and his later prophetic books has always been noticed but seldom explained. The fact seems to be that as his gift of seeing visions increased, and he admitted to cultivating the faculty, the strain which he put upon language became too severe. "Execution," he once finely said, "is the chariot of genius;" but creative genius must choose its vehicle aright, or it will be landed in confusion. "Unappropriate execution," he wrote elsewhere, "is the most nauseous of all affectation and foppery; ideas cannot be given in their minutely appropriate words, nor can a design be made without its minutely appropriate execution." This we may admit, but we may hold at the same time that words may be inappropriately employed to carry out the proper function of design. function of design. And this is the mistake Blake made. As his visions increased in number and grandeur, he was not able to translate them into the logical and abstract material of words. He was continually striving, in fact, to treat language as if it could be moulded into sensuous images; and owing to the imperfect command of the logical faculty which characterised him throughout his life, he was never able in his later works to acquire that power of precise and consequential statement which is as necessary to poetry as to other forms of literature. But, on the other hand, with the increasing power of his imagination, his painting steadily grew also in strength and adequacy. For here imagery is the appropriate expression, and the test of clearness and precision was the same for him in this sphere as for others, nor could he be led astray by the arbitrary use of terms which have only an abstract and general significance.

While exhibiting then in a unique way the nature of the close connection between poetry and painting, Blake serves to show also in a unique way the limits of their several spheres. Clear and hard those limits may be; but as we read the scene in his biography which shows us the old man lying on his death-bed, now drawing with faltering touches the form of his faithful wife, now uttering songs so sweetly to his Maker that he knows they are not his, we may perhaps look forward in conception to the day which he already saw in actual vision, when the arts shall all kiss hands and the world of the imagination absorb all grosser things. And if, meanwhile, it is asked which of the two forms of art, poetry or painting, is most divine, we may again reply with Blake, "There is no competition among great artists; none is greatest in the kingdom of heaven."

Lola Montes.

EUROPE in 1846 was anything but a pleasant abode for despoticallyinclined kings and ministers. That fitful restlessness which precedes the fever of revolution was impelling men to demand all sorts of concessions from their rulers: Louis Philippe and Frederick William were wavering in the storm; and even Metternich, subtle of brain and strong of will, aided by bayonets and Jesuits, was unable to keep down the rising tide of democracy.

In one part of Germany, however, in the little kingdom of Bavaria, the anti-progressive party was enjoying a triumph as complete as that attained elsewhere by the grape-shot and wholesale deportations of the autocrat Nicholas. The press was effectually fettered, justice was administered in closed courts and solely in the interests of the nobility, the Protestants were kept under with a strong hand, and all foreign relations were directed in due subordination to the great despotic interests of the Continent.

Suddenly these conditions were radically altered, and Bavaria's voice was heard on the side of liberalism and progress. M. Abel and his Ultramontane colleagues, who had held office for ten years, were dismissed: Prince Wallenstein, a man of marked liberal tendencies, was called to office, the press was made as free as it could be under the existing federal legislation of Germany, the Ultramontane party was crushed both at Court and in the University, and Bavaria assumed an independent and liberal attitude in its foreign relations. A memorable instance of this last change occurred on the occasion of Austria and Prussia making a proposal to the German Diet strongly hostile to the Swiss Government and to the events which had recently taken place in Switzerland. Bavaria immediately declared to the Diet and to the British Minister at Munich that "the constitutional states of Germany could not but sympathise with the Swiss Government so long as it continues to respect the principle of cantonal sovereignty and confines itself to measures calculated to ameliorate the condition and administration of the country."

This dramatic change of administration and policy was inspired and directed by an intrigante of remarkable intellect and force of character, under whose influence Ludwig Karl August, the artist-king of Bavaria, fell towards the close of forty-six.

Lola Montes, a beautiful danseuse, came to Munich from Paris, overflowing with a passionate enthusiasm for liberty, equality, and

fraternity, a sentiment she had imbibed under the auspices of a young journalist named Dujarrier. At Munich, obtaining permission to dance in the theatre there, her beauty and distinguished manners attracted the notice of the king. On further acquaintance with her he became so enamoured of her originality of character that he installed her as his favourite. From that moment Bavaria and its king were governed by Lola Montes.

This adventuress's exit from Paris was as picturesque as her rise into power at Munich. Dujarrier, who was editor of La Presse, quarrelled with a political opponent named Beauvallon. Beauvallon challenged him to a duel, which they fought in the Bois de Bologne. Dujarrier, who could not hit a mark as large as a man twice in fourteen times, was shot through the brain. For this honourable murder Beauvallon was tried at Rouen and acquitted. Among the witnesses at the trial were Alexandre Dumas, who was a friend of Dujarrier, and Lola Montes. This is what the journals said of Lola's part in the tragedy:

"Mdlle. de Montes had expressed a desire to be introduced to Beauvallon and go to the dinner, but Dujarrier positively refused to allow it. She received the letter on her return from rehearsal, and immediately took measures to prevent the duel, but it was too late. I was,' said she, in her testimony, a better shot than Dujarrier, and if Beauvallon wanted satisfaction I would have fought him myself.' She received the corpse from the carriage, and the emotion which she then experienced was still visible in her testimony. Dujarrier evidently entertained a warm affection for her, as, in addition to his farewell letter, he wrote a will on the morning of the duel, leaving her the principal part of his estate.”

The spirited manner in which Lola had rushed to the duellingground with the intention of herself exchanging shots with Beauvallon rather than her friend should be exposed to death, made her the heroine and idol of the hour in Paris. Her fame as a woman of spirit preceded her to Munich, and no doubt assisted in gaining her such an immediate ascendancy over the mind of King Ludwig.

Before Lola Montes became thus notorious, her life had been a very varied one.

Her baptismal name was Marie Dolores Eliza Rosanna Gilbert, and she was born of respectable parents in the city of Limerick in the year 1818. Her mother was of Spanish descent. Her father was an officer in the 44th regiment. Shortly after her birth her parents took her to India. Here her father died of cholera, and, her mother speedily re-marrying, Dolores, or Lola as she was always called, was sent to Europe, where she was placed under the care of a Scotch family at Montrose. From Montrose she went to France, and thence to Bath.

Bath was at that time a centre of fashion, and Lola's visit there

was a crisis in her life. She had inherited from her mixed Irish and Spanish descent a fierce passionate temperament, and education and example had done nothing to modify it. Placed early under the over-strict discipline of a Scotch home, its harsh cold rules had only served to implant in her mind an incurable disgust with control, a disgust which her removal thence, attended as it was with greater liberty, intensified into an inalienable part of her character. Her mother, who was ambitious, unscrupulous, and vain, did nothing by her example to correct the faults of the daughter, and unfortunately all other difficulties were complicated by Lola's consciousness that she possessed the all-subduing gift of beauty. Under the circumstances, for Lola to finish her education with a fashionable course at Bath was about the most fatal thing that could happen to her.

While at Bath her mother arranged a marriage between her and a gouty old judge of sixty. Lola objected; her mother insisted on her obedience. The impetuous girl settled the dispute by eloping with a captain named James, to whom she was married at Neath, in the month of July 1837.

Captain James remained in Ireland with his wife eight months, when he joined his regiment, the 21st Bengal Native Foot in India. The affection between Lola and her husband was never very great; she found him but the gilded shell of a man, and with that her exacting spirit could not be content. Differences arose, by mutual desire a divorce was obtained, and Lola was sent back to Europe at the close of the year 1842.

It was decided by her friends that she should take up her residence with a branch of her father-in-law's family at Perth. Lola retained no pleasant memories of her previous residence in a Calvinistic Scotch family, and she had tasted the delights of liberty. The attractions of the latter as against the former were too great for her, and on reaching London she put into execution a purpose she had been revolving in her mind on the voyage home-she refused to accompany Mr. David Craigie who was waiting to escort her to Perth.

She had a small sum of money with which her friends had supplied her before quitting India, and on this she lived for a time. Her intention was to become an actress, but deficient English was a bar to her immediate appearance, so it was settled that she should be a danseuse. A Spanish teacher of that art was soon procured, with whom she studied for four months, after which she made her début at Her Majesty's Theatre.

As a danseuse she was not very successful, but her graceful manners and impulsive style proved a source of attraction in various cities of the Continent, and gained her at Paris the friendship of the talented Dujarrier, and eventually placed her in power at Munich.