The Portable William Blake (19 page)

BOOK: The Portable William Blake
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I have also sent a proof of Pericles for your remarks, thanking you for the kindness with which you express them, and feeling heartily your grief with a brother’s sympathy.
I remain,
Dear Sir,
Your humble servant,
WILLIAM BLAKE.
TO GEORGE CUMBERLAND
13, Hercules Buildings, Lambeth.
2,
July, 1800.
DEAR CUMBERLAND,
I have to congratulate you on your plan for a National Gallery being put into Execution. All your wishes shall in due time be fulfilled; the immense flood of Grecian light & glory which is coming on Europe will more than realize our warmest wishes. Your honours will be unbounded when your plan shall be carried into Execution as it must be if England continues a Nation. I hear that it is now in the hands of Ministers, That the King shews it great Countenance & Encouragement, that it will soon be before Parliament, & that it must be extended & enlarged to take in Originals both of Painting & Sculpture by considering every valuable original that is brought into England or can be purchased Abroad as its objects of Acquisition. Such is the Plan as I am told & such must be the plan if England wishes to continue at all worth notice; as you have yourself observ’d only now, we must possess Originals as well as France or be Nothing.
Excuse, I intreat you, my not returning Thanks at the proper moment for your kind present. No perswasion could make my stupid head believe that it was proper for me to trouble you with a letter of meer compliment & Expression of thanks. I begin to Emerge from a deep pit of Melancholy, Melancholy without any real reason for it, a Disease which God keep you from & all good men. Our artists of all ranks praise your outlines & wish for more. Flaxman is very warm in your commendation & more and more of A Grecian. Mr. Hayley has lately mentioned your work on outline in Notes to an Essay on Sculpture in Six Epistles to John Flaxman. I have been too little among friends which I fear they will not Excuse & I know not how to apologize for. Poor Fuseli, sore from the lash of Envious tongues, praises you & dispraises with the same breath; he is not naturally good natured, but he is artificially very ill natured, yet even from him I learn the Estimation you are held in among artists & connoisseurs.
I am still Employ’d in making Designs & little Pictures with now & then an Engraving & find that in future to live will not be so difficult as it has been. It is very Extraordinary that London in so few years from a city of meer Necessaries or at l[e]ast a commerce of the lowest order of luxuries should have become a City of Elegance in some degree & that its once stupid inhabitants should enter into an Emulation of Grecian manners. There are now, I believe, as many Booksellers as there are Butchers & as many Printshops as of any other trade. We remember when a Print shop was a rare bird in London & I myself remember when I thought my pursuits of Art a kind of criminal dissipation & neglect of the main chance, which I hid my face for not being able to abandon as a Passion which is forbidden by Law & Religion, but now it appears to be Law & Gospel too, at least I hear so from the few friends I have dared to visit in my stupid Melancholy. Excuse this communication of sentiments which I felt necessary to my repose at this time. I feel very strongly that I neglect my Duty to my Friends but It is not want of Gratitude or Friendship but perhaps an Excess of both.
Let me hear of your welfare. Remember My & My Wife’s Respectful Compliments to Mrs. Cumberland & Family
& believe me to be for Ever
Yours
WILLIAM BLAKE.
TO JOHN FLAXMAN
MY DEAREST FRIEND,
 
It is to you I owe All my present Happiness. It is to you I owe perhaps the Principal Happiness of my life. I have presum’d on your friendship in staying so long away & not calling to know of your welfare, but hope now every thing is nearly completed for our removal to Felpham, that I shall see you on Sunday, as we have appointed Sunday afternoon to call on Mrs. Flaxman at Hampstead. I send you a few lines, which I hope you will Excuse. And As the time is arriv’d when Men shall again converse in Heaven & walk with Angels, I know you will be pleased with the Intention, & hope you will forgive the Poetry.
 
To My Dearest Friend, John Flaxman, these lines:
 
I bless thee, O Father of Heaven & Earth, that ever I saw Flaxman’s face.
Angels stand round my Spirit in Heaven, the blessed of Heaven are my friends upon Earth.
When Flaxman was taken to Italy, Fuseli was given to me for a season,
And now Flaxman hath given me Hayley his friend to be mine, such my lot upon Earth.
Now my lot in the Heavens is this, Milton lov’d me in childhood & shew’d me his face.
Ezra came with Isaiah the Prophet, but Shakespeare in riper years gave me his hand;
Paracelsus & Behmen appear’d to me, terrors appear’d in the Heavens above
And in Hell beneath, & a mighty & awful change threatened the Earth.
The American War began. All its dark horrors passed before my face
Across the Atlantic to France. Then the French Revolution commenc’d in thick clouds,
And My Angels have told me that seeing such visions I could not subsist on the Earth,
But by my conjunction with Flaxman, who knows to forgive Nervous Fear.
I remain, for Ever Yours, WILLIAM BLAKE.
 
Be so kind as to Read & then seal the Inclosed & send it on its much beloved Mission.
TO MRS. FLAXMAN
1
H B, Lambeth,
14 Septr. 1800.
MY DEAREST FRIEND,
I hope you will not think we could forget your Services to us, or any way neglect to love & remember with affection even the hem of your garment; we indeed presume on your kindness in neglecting to have call’d on you since my Husband’s first return from Felpham. We have been incessantly busy in our great removal; but can never think of going without first paying our proper duty to you & Mr. Flaxman. We intend to call on Sunday afternoon in Hampstead, to take farewell, All things being now nearly completed for our setting forth on Tuesday Morning; it is only Sixty Miles, & Lambeth was One Hundred, for the terrible desart of London was between. My husband has been obliged to finish several things necessary to be finished before our migration; the Swallows call us, fleeting past our window at this moment, O how we delight in talking of the pleasure we shall have in preparing you a summer bower at Felpham, & we not only talk, but behold! the Angels of our journey have inspired a song to you:
To My Dear Friend, Mrs. Anna Flaxman.
This Song to the flower of Flaxman’s joy,
To the blossom of hope, for a sweet decoy:
Do all that you can or all that you may,
To entice him to Felpham & far away:
 
Away to Sweet Felpham, for Heaven is there;
The Ladder of Angels descends thro’ the air;
On the Turret its spiral does softly descend,
Thro’ the village then winds, at My Cot it does end.
 
You stand in the village & look up to heaven;
The precious stones glitter on flights seventy seven;
And My Brother is there, & My Friend & Thine
Descend & ascend with the Bread & the Wine.
 
The Bread of sweet Thought & the Wine of Delight
Feeds the Village of Felpham by day & by night;
And at his own door the bless’d Hermit does stand,
Dispensing, Unceasing, to all the whole Land.
W. BLAKE.
Recieve my & my husband’s love & affection, & believe me to be Yours affectionately,
Catherine BLAKE.
TO JOHN FLAXMAN
Felpham,
Septr. 21, 1800, Sunday Morning.
DEAR SCULPTOR OF ETERNITY,
We are safe arrived at our Cottage, which is more beautiful than I thought it, & more convenient. It is a perfect Model for Cottages &, I think, for Palaces of Magnificence, only Enlarging, not altering its proportions, & adding ornaments & not principals. Nothing can be more Grand than its Simplicity & Usefulness. Simple without Intricacy, it seems to be the Spontaneous Effusion of Humanity, congenial to the wants of Man. No other formed House can ever please me so well; nor shall I ever be perswaded, I believe, that it can be improved either in Beauty or Use.
Mr. Hayley recieved us with his usual brotherly affection. I have begun to work. Felpham is a sweet place for Study, because it is more Spiritual than London. Heaven opens here on all sides her golden Gates; her windows are not obstructed by vapours; voices of Celestial inhabitants are more distinctly heard, & their forms more distinctly seen; & my Cottage is also a Shadow of their houses. My Wife & Sister are both well, courting Neptune for an embrace.
Our Journey was very pleasant; & tho’ we had a great deal of Luggage, No Grumbling; All was Chearfulness & Good Humour on the Road, & yet we could not arrive at our Cottage before half past Eleven at night, owing to the necessary shifting of our Luggage from one Chaise to another; for we had Seven Different Chaises, & as many different drivers. We set out between Six & Seven in the Morning of Thursday, with Sixteen heavy boxes & portfolios full of prints. And Now Begins a New life, because another covering of Earth is shaken off. I am more famed in Heaven for my works than I could well concieve. In my Brain are studies & Chambers filled with books & pictures of old, which I wrote & painted in ages of Eternity before my mortal life; & those works are the delight & Study of Archangels. Why, then, should I be anxious about the riches or fame of mortality? The Lord our father will do for us & with us according to his divine will for our Good.
You, O dear Flaxman, are a Sublime Archangel, My Friend & Companion from Eternity; in the Divine bosom is our dwelling place. I look back into the regions of Reminiscence & behold our ancient days before this Earth appear’d in its vegetated mortality to my mortal vegetated Eyes. I see our houses of Eternity, which can never be separated, tho’ our Mortal vehicles should stand at the remotest corners of heaven from each other.
Farewell, My Best Friend! Remember Me & My Wife in Love & Friendship to our Dear Mrs. Flaxman, whom we ardently desire to Entertain beneath our thatched roof of rusted gold, & believe me for ever to remain
Your Grateful & Affectionate,
WILLIAM BLAKE.
TO THOMAS BUTTS
DEAR FRIEND OF MY ANGELS,
We are safe arrived at our Cottage without accident or hindrance, tho’ it was between Eleven & Twelve o‘clock at night before we could get home, owing to the necessary shifting of our boxes & portfolios from one Chaise to another. We had Seven different Chaises & as many different drivers. All upon the road was chearfulness & welcome; tho’ our luggage was very heavy there was no grumbling at all. We travel’d thro’ a most beautiful country on a most glorious day. Our Cottage is more beautiful than I thought it, & also more convenient, for tho’ small it is well proportion’d, & if I should ever build a Palace it would be only My Cottage Enlarged. Please to tell Mrs. Butts that we have dedicated a Chamber for her service, & that it has a very fine view of the Sea. Mr. Hayley reciev’d me with his usual brotherly affection. My Wife & Sister are both very well, & courting Neptune for an Embrace, whose terrors this morning made them afraid, but whose mildness is often Equal to his terrors. The villagers of Felpham are not meer Rustics; they are polite & modest. Meat is cheaper than in London, but the sweet air & the voices of winds, trees & birds, & the odours of the happy ground, makes it a dwelling for immortals. Work will go on here with God speed.—A roller & two harrows lie before my window. I met a plow on my first going out at my gate the first morning after my arrival, & the Plowboy said to the Plowman, “Father, The Gate is Open.” I have begun to Work, & find that I can work with greater pleasure than ever. Hope soon to give you a proof that Felpham is propitious to the Arts.
God bless you! I shall wish for you on Tuesday Evening as usual. Pray give My & My wife & sister’s love & respects to Mrs. Butts; accept them yourself, & believe me, for ever,
Your affectionate & obliged Friend,
WILLIAM BLAKE.
My Sister will be in town in a week, & bring with her your account & whatever else I can finish.
Direct to Me:
Blake, Felpham, near Chichester, Sussex.
TO THOMAS BUTTS
Felpham,
Octr. 2d 1800.
FRIEND OF RELIGION & ORDER,
I thank you for your very beautiful & encouraging Verses, which I account a Crown of Laurels, & I also thank you for your reprehension of follies by me foster’d. Your prediction will, I hope, be fulfilled in me, & in future I am the determined advocate of Religion & Humility, the two bands of Society. Having been so full of the Business of Settling the sticks & feathers of my nest, I have not got any forwarder with “the three Marys” or with any other of your commissions; but hope, now I have commenced a new life of industry, to do credit to that new life by Improved Works. Recieve from me a return of verses, such as Felpham produces by me, tho’ not such as she produces by her Eldest Son; however, such as they are, I cannot resist the temptation to send them to you.
To my Friend Butts I write
My first Vision of Light,
On the yellow sands sitting.
The Sun was Emitting
His Glorious beams
From Heaven’s high Streams.
Over Sea, over Land
My Eyes did Expand
Into regions of air
Away from all Care,
Into regions of fire
Remote from Desire;
The Light of the Morning
Heaven’s Mountains adorning:
In particles bright
The jewels of Light
Distinct shone & clear.
Amaz’d & in fear
I each particle gazed,
Astonish‘d, Amazed;
For each was a Man
Human-form’d. Swift I ran,
For they beckon’d to me
Remote by the Sea,
Saying: “Each grain of Sand,
Every Stone on the Land,
Each rock & each hill,
Each fountain & rill,
Each herb & each tree,
Mountain, hill, earth & sea,
Cloud, Meteor & Star,
Are Men seen Afar.”
I stood in the Streams
Of Heaven’s bright beams,
And Saw Felpham sweet
Beneath my bright feet
In soft Female charms;
And in her fair arms
My Shadow I knew
And my wife’s shadow too,
And My Sister & Friend.
We like Infants descend
In our Shadows on Earth,
Like a weak mortal birth.
My Eyes more and more
Like a Sea without shore
Continue Expanding,
The Heavens commanding,
Till the Jewels of Light,
Heavenly Men beaming bright,
Appear’d as One Man,
Who complacent began
My limbs to infold
In his beams of bright gold;
Like dross purg’d away
All my mire & my clay.
Soft consum’d in delight
In his bosom Sun bright
I remain’d. Soft he smil’d,
And I heard his voice Mild
Saying: “This is My Fold,
O thou Ram horn’d with gold,
Who awakest from Sleep
On the Sides of the Deep.
On the Mountains around
The roarings resound
Of the lion & wolf,
The loud Sea & deep gulf.
These are guards of My Fold,
O thou Ram horn’d with gold!”
And the voice faded mild.
I remain’d as a Child;
All I ever had known
Before me bright Shone.
I saw you & your wife
By the fountains of Life.
Such the Vision to me
Appear’d on the sea.
BOOK: The Portable William Blake
6.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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