The Portable Blake

by William Blake

  And put on Intellect, or my thund’rous Hammer shall drive thee

  To wrath which thou condemnest, till thou obey my voice.”

  [THE BREATH DIVINE]

  The Breath Divine went forth upon the morning hills. Albion mov’d

  Upon the Rock, he open’d his eyelids in pain, in pain he mov’d

  His stony members, he saw England. Ah! shall the Dead live again?

  The Breath Divine went forth over the morning hills. Albion rose

  In anger, the wrath of God breaking, bright flaming on all sides around

  His awful limbs; into the Heavens he walked, clothed in flames,

  Loud thund’ring, with broad flashes of flaming lightning & pillars

  Of fire, speaking the Words of Eternity in Human Forms, in direful

  Revolutions of Action & Passion, thro’ the Four Elements on all sides

  Surrounding his awful Members. Thou seest the Sun in heavy clouds

  Struggling to rise above the Mountains; in his burning hand

  He takes his Bow, then chooses out his arrows of flaming gold;

  Murmuring the Bowstring breathes with ardor! clouds roll round the

  Horns of the wide Bow, loud sounding winds sport on the mountain brows,

  Compelling Urizen to his Furrow & Tharmas to his Sheepfold

  And Luvah to his Loom. Urthona he beheld, mighty labouring at

  His Anvil, in the Great Spectre Los unwearied labouring & weeping:

  Therefore the Sons of Eden praise Urthona’s Spectre in songs,

  Because he kept the Divine Vision in time of trouble.

  [JESUS AND ALBION]

  Then Jesus appeared standing by Albion as the Good Shepherd

  By the lost Sheep that he hath found, & Albion knew that it

  Was the Lord, the Universal Humanity; & Albion saw his Form

  A Man, & they conversed as Man with Man in Ages of Eternity.

  And the Divine Appearance was the likeness & similitude of Los.

  Albion said: “0 Lord, what can I do? my Selfhood cruel

  Marches against thee, deceitful, from Sinai & from Edom

  In to the Wilderness of Judah, to meet thee in his pride.

  I behold the Visions of my deadly Sleep of Six Thousand Years

  Dazling around thy skirts like a Serpent of precious stones & gold.

  I know it is my Self, O my Divine Creator & Redeemer.”

  Jesus replied: “Fear not Albion: unless I die thou canst not live;

  But if I die I shall arise again & thou with me.

  This is Friendship & Brotherhood: without it Man Is Not.”

  So Jesus spoke: the Covering Cherub coming on in darkness

  Overshadow’d them, & Jesus said: “Thus do Men in Eternity

  One for another to put off, by forgiveness, every sin.”

  Albion reply’d: “Cannot Man exist without Mysterious Offering of Self for Another? is this Friendship & Brotherhood?

  I see thee in the likeness & similitude of Los my Friend.”

  Jesus said: “Wouldest thou love one who never died

  For thee, or ever die for one who had not died for thee?

  And if God dieth not for Man & giveth not himself

  Eternally for Man, Man could not exist; for Man is Love

  As God is Love: every kindness to another is a little Death

  In the Divine Image, nor can Man exist but by Brotherhood.”

  So saying the Cloud overshadowing divided them asunder.

  Albion stood in terror, not for himself but for his Friend

  Divine; & Self was lost in the contemplation of faith

  And wonder at the Divine Mercy & at Los’s sublime honour.

  “Do I sleep amidst danger to Friends? O my Cities & Counties,

  Do you sleep? rouze up, rouze up! Eternal Death is abroad!”

  So Albion spoke & threw himself into the Furnaces of affliction.

  All was a Vision, all a Dream: the Furnaces became

  Fountains of Living Waters flowing from the Humanity Divine.

  And all the Cities of Albion rose from their Slumbers, and All

  The Sons-& Daughters of Albion on soft clouds, waking from Sleep.

  Soon all around remote the Heavens burnt with flaming fires,

  And Urizen & Luvah & Tharmas & Urthona arose into

  Albion’s Bosom. Then Albion stood before Jesus in the Clouds

  Of Heaven, Fourfold among the Visions of God in Eternity.

  VII.

  ON ART, MONEY, AND THE AGE

  From THE LAOCOÖN GROUP

  (1820)

  If Morality was Christianity, Socrates was the Saviour.

  Art Degraded, Imagination Denied, War Governed the Nations.

  Spiritual War: Israel deliver’d from Egypt, is Art deliver’d from Nature & Imitation.

  A Poet, a Painter, a Musician, an Architect: the Man Or Woman who is not one of these is not a Christian.

  You must leave Fathers & Mothers & Houses & Lands if they stand in the way of Art.

  Prayer is the Study of Art.

  Praise is the Practise of Art.

  Fasting &c., all relate to Art.

  The outward Ceremony is Antichrist.

  The Eternal Body of Man is The Imagination, that is,

  It manifests itself in his Works of Art (In Eternity All is Vision).

  The True Christian Charity not dependent on Money (the life’s blood of Poor Families), that is, on Caesar or Empire or Natural Religion: Money, which is The Great Satan or Reason, the Root of Good & Evil In The Accusation of Sin.

  Good & Evil are Riches & Poverty, a Tree of Misery, propagating Generation & Death.

  Where any view of Money exists, Art cannot be carried on, but War only (Read Matthew, c. x: 9 & 10 v.) by pretences to the Two Impossibilities, Chastity & Abstinence, Gods of the Heathen.

  He repented that he had made Adam (of the Female, the Adamah) & it grieved him at his heart.

  What can be Created Can be Destroyed.

  Adam is only The Natural Man & not the Soul or Imagination.

  Hebrew Art is called Sin by the Deist Science.

  All that we See is Vision, from Generated Organs gone as soon as come, Permanent in The Imagination, Consider’d as Nothing by the Natural Man.

  Art can never exist without Naked Beauty displayed.

  The Gods of Greece & Egypt were Mathematical Diagrams—See Plato’s Works.

  Divine Union Deriding, And Denying Immediate Communion with God, The Spoilers say, “Where are his Works That he did in the Wilderness? Lo, what are these? Whence came they?” These are not the Works Of Egypt nor Babylon, Whose Gods are the Powers Of this World, Goddess Nature, Who first spoil & then destroy Imaginative Art; for their Glory is War and Dominion.

  Empire against Art—

  Satan’s Wife, The Goddess Nature, is War & Misery, & Heroism a Miser.

  For every Pleasure Money Is Useless.

  There are States in which all Visionary Men are accounted Mad Men; such are Greece & Rome: Such is Empire or Tax—See Luke, Ch. 2, v. 1.

  Without Unceasing Practise nothing can be done. Practise is Art. If you leave off you are Lost.

  Jesus & his Apostles & Disciples were all Artists. Their Works were destroy’d by the Seven Angels of the Seven Churches in Asia, Antichrist Science.

  The Old & New Testaments are the Great Code of Art.

  Art is the Tree of Life. God is Jesus.

  Science is the Tree of Death.

  The Whole Business of Man Is The Arts, & All Things Common. No Secresy in Art.

  The unproductive Man is not a Christian, much less the Destroyer.

  Christianity is Art & not Money. Money is its Curse.

  What we call Antique Gems are the Gems of Aaron’s Breast Plate.

  Is not every Vice possible to Man described in the Bible openly?

  All is not Sin that Satan calls so: all the Loves & Graces of Eternity.

  From A DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE OF PICTU
RES, POETICAL AND HISTORICAL INVENTIONS, PAINTED BY WILLIAM BLAKE IN WATER COLOURS, BEING THE ANCIENT METHOD OF FRESCO PAINTING RESTORED: AND DRAWINGS, FOR PUBLIC INSPECTION, AND FOR SALE BY PRIVATE CONTRACT

  (1809)

  CONDITIONS OF SALE

  I. One third of the price to be paid at the time of Purchase, and the remainder on Delivery.

  II. The Pictures and Drawings to remain in the Exhibition till its close, which will be on the 29th of September 1809; and the Picture of the Canterbury Pilgrims, which is to be engraved, will be Sold only on condition of its remaining in the Artist’s hands twelve months, when it will be delivered to the Buyer.

  PREFACE

  The eye that can prefer the Colouring of Titian and Rubens to that of Michael Angelo and Rafael, ought to be modest and to doubt its own powers. Connoisseurs talk as if Rafael and Michael Angelo had never seen the colouring of Titian or Correggio: They ought to know that Correggio was born two years before Michael Angelo, and Titian but four years after. Both Rafael and Michael Angelo knew the Venetian, and contemned and rejected all he did with the utmost disdain, as that which is fabricated for the purpose to destroy art.

  Mr. B. appeals to the Public, from the judgment of those narrow blinking eyes, that have too long governed art in a dark comer. The eyes of stupid cunning never will be pleased with the work any more than with the look of self-devoting genius. The quarrel of the Florentine with the Venetian is not because he does not understand Drawing, but because he does not understand Colouring. How should he, he who does not know how to draw a hand or a foot, know how to colour it?

  Colouring does not depend on where the Colours are put, but on where the lights and darks are put, and all depends on Form or Outline, on where that is put; where that is wrong, the Colouring never can be right; and it is always wrong in Titian and Correggio, Rubens and Rembrandt. Till we get rid of Titian and Correggio, Rubens and Rembrandt, We never shall equal Rafael and Albert Durer, Michael Angelo, and Julio Romano.

  NUMBER III.

  Sir Jeffery Chaucer and the nine and twenty Pilgrims on their journey to Canterbury.

  The time chosen is early morning, before sunrise, when the jolly company are just quitting the Tabarde Inn. The Knight and Squire with the Squire’s Yeoman lead the Procession; next follow the youthful Abbess, her nun and three priests; her greyhounds attend her—Of small hounds had she, that she fed

  With roast flesh, milk and wastel bread.

  Next follow the Friar and Monk; then the Tapiser, the Pardoner, and the Somner and Manciple. After these “Our Host,” who occupies the center of the cavalcade, directs them to the Knight as the person who would be likely to commence their task of each telling a tale in their order. After the Host follows the Shipman, the Haberdasher, the Dyer, the Franklin, the Physician, the Plowman, the Lawyer, the poor Parson, the Merchant, the Wife of Bath, the Miller, the Cook, the Oxford Scholar, Chaucer himself, and the Reeve comes as Chaucer has described:And ever he rode hinderest of the rout.

  These last are issuing from the gateway of the Inn; the Cook and the Wife of Bath are both taking their morning’s draft of comfort. Spectators stand at the gateway of the Inn, and are composed of an old Man, a Woman, and Children.

  The Landscape is an eastward view of the country, from the Tabarde Inn, in Southwark, as it may be supposed to have appeared in Chaucer’s time, interspersed with cottages and villages; the first beams of the Sun are seen above the horizon; some buildings and spires indicate the situation of the great City; the Inn is a gothic building, which Thynne in his Glossary says was the lodging of the Abbot of Hyde, by Winchester. On the Inn is inscribed its title, and a proper advantage is taken of this circumstance to describe the subject of the Picture. The words written over the gateway of the Inn are as follow: “The Tabarde Inn, by Henry Baillie, the lodgynge-house for Pilgrims, who journey to Saint Thomas’s Shrine at Canterbury.”

  The characters of Chaucer’s Pilgrims are the characters which compose all ages and nations: as one age falls, another rises, different to mortal sight, but to immortals only the same; for we see the same characters repeated again and again, in animals, vegetables, minerals, and in men; nothing new occurs in identical existence; Accident ever varies, Substance can never suffer change nor decay.

  Of Chaucer’s characters, as described in his Canterbury Tales, some of the names or titles are altered by time, but the characters themselves for ever remain unaltered, and consequently they are the physiognomies or lineaments of universal human life, beyond which Nature never steps. Names alter, things never alter. I have known multitudes of those who would have been monks in the age of monkery, who in this deistical age are deists. As Newton numbered the stars, and as Linneus numbered the plants, so Chaucer numbered the classes of men.

  The Painter has consequently varied the heads and forms of his personages into all Nature’s varieties; the Horses he has also varied to accord to their Riders; the costume is correct according to authentic monuments.

  The Knight and Squire with the Squire’s Yeoman lead the procession, as Chaucer has also placed them first in his prologue. The Knight is a true Hero, a good, great, and wise man; his whole length portrait on horseback, as written by Chaucer, cannot be surpassed. He has spent his life in the field; has ever been a conqueror, and is that species of character which in every age stands as the guardian of man against the oppressor. His son is like him with the germ of perhaps greater perfection still, as he blends literature and the arts with his warlike studies. Their dress and their horses are of the first rate, without ostentation, and with all the true grandeur that unaffected simplicity when in high rank always displays. The Squire’s Yeoman is also a great character, a man perfectly knowing in his profession:And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.

  Chaucer describes here a mighty man; one who in war is the worthy attendant on noble heroes.

  The Prioress follows these with her female chaplain:Another Nonne also with her had she,

  That was her Chaplaine, and Priests three.

  This Lady is described also as of the first rank, rich and honoured. She has certain peculiarities and little delicate affectations, not unbecoming in her, being accompanied with what is truly grand and really polite; her person and face Chaucer has described with minuteness; it is very elegant, and was the beauty of our ancestors, till after Elizabeth’s time, when voluptuousness and folly began to be accounted beautiful.

  Her companion and her three priests were no doubt all perfectly delineated in those parts of Chaucer’s work which are now lost; we ought to suppose them suitable attendants on rank and fashion.

  The Monk follows these with the Friar. The Painter has also grouped with these the Pardoner and the Sompnour and the Manciple, and has here also introduced one of the rich citizens of London: Characters likely to ride in company, all being above the common rank in life or attendants on those who were so.

  For the Monk is described by Chaucer as a man of the first rank in society, noble, rich, and expensively attended; he is a leader of the age, with certain humorous accompaniments in his character, that do not degrade, but render him an object of dignified mirth, but also with other accompaniments not so respectable.

  The Friar is a character also of a mixed kind:A friar there was, a wanton and a merry.

  but in his office he is said to be a “full solemn man”: eloquent, amorous, witty, and satyrical; young, handsome, and rich; he is a complete rogue, with constitutional gaiety enough to make him a master of all the pleasures of the world.

  His neck was white as the flour de lis,

  Thereto strong he was as a champioun.

  It is necessary here to speak of Chaucer’s own character, that I may set certain mistaken critics right in their conception of the humour and fun that occurs on the journey. Chaucer is himself the great poetical observer of men, who in every age is born to record and eternize its acts. This he does as a master, as a father, and superior, who looks down on their little follies from the Emperor to the Miller
; sometimes with severity, oftener with joke and sport.

  Accordingly Chaucer has made his Monk a great tragedian, one who studied poetical art. So much so, that the generous Knight is, in the compassionate dictates of his soul, compelled to cry out:Ho, quoth the Knyght,—good Sir, no more of this;

  That ye have said is right ynough I wis;

  And mokell more, for little heaviness

  Is right enough for much folk, as I guesse.

  I say, for me, it is a great disease,

  Whereas men have been in wealth and ease,

  To heare of their sudden fall, alas,

  And the contrary is joy and solas.

  The Monk’s definition of tragedy in the proem to his tale is worth repeating:Tragedie is to tell a certain story,

  As old books us maken memory,

  Of hem that stood in great prosperity,

  And be fallen out of high degree,

  Into miserie, and ended wretchedly.