The New York Times, August 23, 1902. PAGE NUMBER 28
WILLIAM BLAKE.
Artist, Poet, Visionary—Facts, Books, and Opinions Concerning Him.
By R. OSGOOD MASON, M. D.
TO the general public the name of William Blake is almost unknown, and, strange as it may seem, even among what may be called educated people, very a majority have any definite idea either of his personality or his work. To the few who have made definite knowledge of him he has long been a person of unusual interest, and from many points of view; for in the truest and most emphatic sense of the term he was an artist of striking originality and power, a poet of child-like simplicity and beauty as well as mystic and grandeur, and a visionary so marked and peculiar that conservatives and superficial observers have reckoned him insane. In short, he was a genius, with all the virtues and eccentricities which that term implies.
Blake was born in 1757 and died in 1827 — so, roughly estimated, his active life was embraced in the last quarter of the eighteenth century and in the first quarter of the century just past. In English literature and art it was the period of Burns and Cowper, of Wordsworth and Charles Lamb, of Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds, of Flaxman, Bartolozi, and Stothard.
He was not appreciated or even understood in his lifetime, and it was only after the lapse of more than a generation after he passed away that his real merit began to be perceived.
In 1863, thirty-six years after his death, the first important biography of Blake appeared — a wonderfully interesting book in two volumes, under the pen of Gilchrist, written with intelligence, sympathy, and a degree of appreciation quite remarkable, taking into consideration the obstacles he encountered. Up to that time, as Gilchrist states in the preliminary chapter, Blake’s poems were scarcely noticed. The collections of the “Beauties of the English Poets,” encyclopedias ignored it, biographical dictionaries scarcely noticed it, and The Edinburgh Review scolded Allan Cunningham for including it in the “Lives of British Artists.”
Gilchrist had finished and prepared the first volume for the press and had nearly completed the second volume, when he suddenly taken sick and died. The brothers Dante and William Rossetti at once came forward to complete the unfinished work, a service gratefully acknowledged by Mrs. Gilchrist in the preface.
Four years later Mr. Swinburne published a most valuable critical essay upon the genius of Blake, with an examination into the mystic writings called the Prophetic Books. Still later Mr. William Rossetti published an edition of the poems prefixed by an appreciative memoir for the Aldine Series.
For perceiving and directing attention to the value of Blake’s work, literary and artistic, these early biographers are deserving of great credit, and the thanks of all lovers of the noble in poetry and in the unique in higher art or literature; but none of these biographers understood or professed to understand the true, peculiar symbolical and prophetic poems, nor are they ever satisfactorily explained or even elucidating. There have been Browning societies and Dante societies and Omar Khayyam societies formed for the special study of those authors, and doubtless there will in the near future be Blake societies whose special purpose will be to supply a helpful key to these important though mystical poems we are indebted to the later and more critical editions of Blake’s works, together with biography and commentary, in three noble volumes by Edwin J. Ellis and William Butler Yeats, published in 1893: a truly monumental and valuable work. A small volume — a convenient hand book with a selection of the most beautiful poems, along with copious extracts from the Prophetic Books — was brought out by Mr. Laurence Housman some years ago, and also by the Scribners in New York — a delightful book for those who desire with least difficulty to become better acquainted with this strange yet fascinating author. A valuable essay upon the life and work was published by Richard Story, differing from and somewhat critical of the work of Ellis and Yeats, appeared in London the same year; also “Selections,” with an introductory essay by Lawrence Binyon. A few magazine articles of varying interest have also appeared.
Such is the biographical and critical material accessible for a study of this remarkable man. Specimens of his artistic work in copper plate illustrations to Blake’s “Grave,” Young’s “Night Thought,” and especially the book of Job may be found in our large libraries. An artistic reproduction of the illustrations to the book of Job is now announced by the Scribners is an indication of the new interest in Blake’s work.
Briefly, what do we gather from these sources regarding Blake himself? Who is he, what does he stand, and where is he to be classed?
First of all, it is well to know Blake was not his true, ancestral name. He was of Irish descent, his grandfather having been an O’Neil, with all the impetuosity, abruptness and imprudence of that ancient and patriotic race. This grandfather, John O’Neil, probably on account of financial grand difficulty, married Ellen Blake, a business woman of means, and took her name. James O’Neil, the youngest son of John, was already a half-grown lad at the time of this marriage, but later he also took the name of Blake, which he transmitted to his son William, the artist. This history serves to account in part at least for the peculiarities in the character of William Blake — his originality, his impatience of restraint or criticism, and the psychic quality which enabled him to draw freely upon that deep source of inspiration through his sub-conscious mind which was so conspicuous in all his work.
In the matter of early education — he could not endure the restraint and petty tyranny of the schoolroom — but he was an extensive reader, intensely fond of mental employment and following his own inclination he acquired at least a general knowledge of both Latin and Greek.
His visionary and intuitional tendencies were manifest even in childhood, and were of an decidedly religious nature. He had remarkable visualizations of angels; once he saw Ezekiel and reported the vision to his mother, who afterward proceeded to chastise him for bringing home such a story.
Blake’s poetical faculty manifested itself early. At twelve or thereabouts he began; by years he had written a series of minor poems which six years later were published under the title “Poetical Sketches,” the expense being borne, one-half by Flaxman, who had already become his friend, and the other half by one of the contributions of money from friends with whom he was accustomed to meet in a sort of informal literary club at Mathew’s house in Rathbone Place. Of these early poems Swinburne wrote: “Here, at a time when Cowper was his only rival, poetry, as I understand it and as it was understood in olden time, had for a dying and decayed thing, a mere chance of recovery. England had no poetry, a thing which was bearable, but had plenty of verses, a thing which was not. Then Blake, a boy of hardly twenty years old yet, turns up suddenly with work in that time already done, not simply holding its own with its contemporaries but better than all except the greatest have done since; and better than these all do now — among the greatest ever managed to do.”
I quote the first stanza of “To Spring”:
“O thou with dewy locks who lookest down
Through the clear windows of the morning,
Turn
Thine angel eyes upon our Western isle,
Which in full choir bells thy approach, O Spring!”
We must remember that these early efforts preceded the “Songs of Innocence” and between the goody-goody poetry of Cowper and the atheism of Thomas Paine there was need of healthy, truthful, and unorthodox poetry — especially when tinged with a mysticism which needed a more sympathetic intellectual than the Blake’s generation possessed to appreciate. So Blake was almost without an audience, though Swinburne enthusiastically declares “To Spring,” and “To the Evening Star” are worthy even of Tennyson. Other poems in the same collection are equally beautiful.
Six years later appeared “Songs of Innocence,” published also in 1794, “Songs of Experience.” The manner of their publication demands a moment’s notice, as it marks an epoch in Blake’s life.
For these poems no friends appeared to bear the expense of publication. He was too poor to bear the expense himself, and no publisher was found willing to take the risk. Blake had a younger brother, Robert, of whom he was very fond, who had long lived with him and whom he had taught the art of engraving. The brother died young, and about this juncture he appeared to Blake in a vision or dream and conversed with him about the publication of these poems. “Why not engrave them yourself?” he said, and he then proceeded to describe a process of writing or plainly printing both text and delicate artistic illustrations upon copper plates, with a varnish composed of pitch and turpentine; this preparation protected the places where it was applied while the surrounding surface was treated with acid and eaten away, leaving the protected parts sufficiently high to receive ink from the roller and give a perfect impression upon paper.
Blake immediately put the plan in execution; he carefully delineated both text and illustrations with a fine brush on small copper plates, all in reverse, like type set ready to compose — astonishing labor — and then applied the acid bath. The process was perfectly successful, and from that time onward Blake became his own publisher. The illustrations were carefully colored by hand and the whole was neatly sewed together and covered by his wife. By this were produced those curious specimens of a unique and beautiful art, copies of which are now held at such high prices and fac-simile reproductions of which present most interesting works of art.
The simplicity and sweetness and a delightful, healthy atmosphere of childhood these “Songs of Innocence” can hardly be excelled or surpassed. Of the “Songs of Innocence” and “Songs of Experience” Wordsworth said: “They are undoubtedly the production of insane genius — but there is something in the madness of this man which interests me more than the sanity of Lord Byron or Walter Scott.”
Wordsworth had the soul to appreciate the delicate beauty of these poems — a soul delighting in nature, but he was not a psychologist, and his opinion regarding the “insane genius” of Blake is very much open to criticism. Notwithstanding the appreciation of these poems by a few men of caste and culture they failed to attract the public for nearly a generation.
As an artist Blake fared no better at the hands of his contemporaries than as a poet. He had his own ideals, and no argument nor sharp and pressing need could make him swerve from them. He admired the strong original work of Michael Angelo and disparaged refinements and conventionalities. His own generation was that of Sir Joshua Reynolds and Gainsborough — a generation delighting in color and finish, in portraits and dresses — work not requiring the most vigorous poetic genius nor originality. Blake had his own more original ideas — of visions and inspiration — saw the truth in that work, and he criticized it accordingly. His Reynolds was poorly sold — he amassed wealth, he was petted and honored in his day while Blake was ignored. But the situations are now reversed; three-quarters of a century have passed, memoirs of Blake are multiplying; every year brings forth a life of him; his poetry, his philosophy and religion are studied and criticized, his maxims and aphorisms quoted, and every scrap of his literary or artistic work is eagerly sought, guarded, and prized.
It is, however, as a visionary, and with reference to his psychic constitution and experiences that the life of Blake is extremely interesting — indeed the ordinary life even of artists and literary men. Without understanding that phase of his life and taking it fully into account, no other can be properly understood. Evidences of this visionary tendency were discernible in his childhood and in his early manhood; in his final achievement; and late in life it became his ordinary method of work. In a letter to his friend Capt. Butts concerning some lines just penned down by him, he says: “I have written this poem (the Jerusalem) from immediate dictation, twelve, twenty, sometimes thirty lines at a time, without premeditation and even against my will. The time it has taken in writing was thus rendered non-existent, and an immense poem exists produced without labor or study.”
In Blake’s own pen is the key to his visionary life. In art, mental pictures — visualizations — came up before his mind accompanied by an eager desire for rapid execution. As he writes again in the same letter: “Excuse my enthusiasm, or rather madness, for I am really drunk with intellectual visions whenever I take a pen or graver into my hand.”
His method in art, the production of the now well-known “Visionary Heads” will serve as an example. Varley, a painter in water colors, was attracted by Blake’s personality and methods, and induced him to work in his presence. Varley would ask him for a portrait of Richard III., or any character that struck his fancy. Night was the most favorable time for these sittings, and they sat together for hours, sometimes only a few minutes, when Blake would say: “He is here” — meaning that the character had appeared; he would begin rapidly to sketch, looking up at the visualization before him, just as one would sketch from a model. Sometimes he would say: “He is gone — I must wait till he comes back,” or “He has moved, I must alter my sketch.” Sometimes, and then he would wait until the desired pose was again secured, when he would resume his work. Varley in the meantime would strain his eyes trying to see the spectral appearance, but all in vain. In this manner were produced “Who Built the Pyramids,” “Julius Caesar,” “The Ghost of a Flea,” and the other visionary heads of characters.
Much of Blake’s work, perhaps all his best work, was done in a similar manner. He never expressed any doubt as to the reality, or at least the truthfulness, of his visions and the messages which he received, also to the inspiration through which they came, and the symbolical forms and messages that make up the bulk of the intricate, confusing, though often grand and sublime poems which constitute the prophetic books.
The following from Vala gives some idea of the activities of the characters introduced:
For Los and Enitharmon walked forth on the dewy Earth
Contracting and expanding all their flexible senses
At will to murmur in the flowers, small as the honey bee,
At will to stretch across the heavens and step from star to star,
Or standing on the earth, erect, or on the stormy waves,
Driving the storms before them or delighting in sunny beams,
While round their heads the elemental gods kept harmony.
It is chiefly with reference to these prophetic books and the manner of their production that the sanity of Blake has been questioned, but in this he was not different from other visionaries. From Moses, with his visions of heavenly divine revelation and his marvelous decalogue; Ezekiel, with his symbolical creatures and wheels; Daniel, with his fantastic vision of beasts; St. John, with his symbolical vision of the new Jerusalem, to Mohammed, Swedenborg, Galileo, Tasso and more recently Tennyson and Wagner, each has had his message to his age, and in every case the message has been misunderstood; it took a generation or an age for this enlightenment — this clearing of the perception to come, and the message to be received.
But again, why is it that in the case of pronounced visionaries like Ezekiel, Socrates, Joan of Arc, Swedenborg, or Blake doubts have so often been cast upon their sanity? It is because the classic personality of the past had no place for them; it has recognized but one part of human personality, namely, the conscious reasoning part; by this alone was a person’s sense and sanity judged, and by this alone could truth be discovered. That psychology which takes the deeper — or broader view of human personality has begun to obtain; it is at least recognized that in certain well-known conditions, as, for example, somnambulism, trance, abstraction, and sometimes in dreams, the voluntary, conscious, reasoning part of the personality is inactive and in abeyance, and yet in these states there is mental activity, often of a high order; memory of the past life is brought to the surface and acts, and its activity is perfectly normal in its own domain. By this newly differentiated field, mind has of late received much attention, and it has been found to be a region subject to law, a land of clear vision, of inspiration, of beauty, of health. It has been named the sub-conscious mind or subliminal self.
It was into this long unrecognized field that all these visionaries, both ancient and modern, at times entered — a place of clear vision — and in it they found truth, higher, grander, more beautiful, more spiritual, than reason alone had discovered. It is the region of inspiration, the tabernacle into which enter the oracle, poet, prophet, and sage, and when it is fully recognized the sanity of genius will no longer be questioned. Blake knew nothing of this condition scientifically — no one did at that time — but he knew a great deal about it experimentally, for in that state a large part of his work, both artistic and literary, was accomplished. He called the condition imagination, but to him it was not simply the exercise of fancy, on however high a plane, but the perception of realities as they eternally exist; and his great desire was to show his fellow-men the truth, beauty, and grandeur which this state revealed, not only as regards art, which was also a distinctive part of this revelation, but also as regards the great drama of human existence was carried out in the prophetic books which constitute a grand epic, mythical and symbolical to a troublesome degree, but abounding in titanic action and grandeur and grandeur of imagery and description, rivaling in that respect the two wonderful epics of India. His great aim was to contribute something to enlighten the world, to make a higher life by bringing a recognition of that world of the imagination into which Blake sought to lift men, uncontaminated with the fallible results presented by the unreliable reason.
As Blake himself expressed it:
Trembling I sit day and night, my friends are astonished at me,
Yet they forgive my wanderings; I rest not from my great task
To open the eternal worlds, to open the immortal eyes
Of man inward into the world of thought, into eternity,
Ever expanding in the bosom of God, the human imagination.