The Portable Blake

by William Blake

  The great and golden rule of art, as well as of life, is this: That the more distinct, sharp, and wirey the bounding line, the more perfect the work of art, and the less keen and sharp, the greater is the evidence of weak imitation, plagiarism, and bungling. Great inventors, in all ages, knew this: Protogenes and Apelles knew each other by this line. Rafael and Michael Angelo and Albert Dürer are known by this and this alone. The want of this determinate and bounding form evidences the want of idea in the artist’s mind, and the pretence of the plagiary in all its branches. How do we distinguish the oak from the beech, the horse from the ox, but by the bounding outline? How do we distinguish one face or countenance from another, but by the bounding line and its infinite inflexions and movements? What is it that builds a house and plants a garden, but the definite and determinate? What is it that distinguishes honesty from knavery, but the hard and wirey line of rectitude and certainty in the actions and intentions? Leave out this line, and you leave out life itself; all is chaos again, and the line of the almighty must be drawn out upon it before man or beast can exist. Talk no more then of Correggio, or Rembrandt, or any other of those plagiaries of Venice or Flanders. They were but the lame imitators of lines drawn by their predecessors, and their works prove themselves contemptible, disarranged imitations, and blundering, misapplied copies.

  NUMBER XVI.

  The Penance of Jane Shore in St. Paul’s Church.—A Drawing,

  This Drawing was done above Thirty Years ago, and proves to the Author, and he thinks will prove to any discerning eye, that the productions of our youth and of our maturer age are equal in all essential points. If a man is master of his profession, he cannot be ignorant that he is so; and if he is not employed by those who pretend to encourage art, he will employ himself, and laugh in secret at the pretences of the ignorant, while he has every night dropped into his shoe, as soon as he puts it off, and puts out the candle, and gets into bed, a reward for the labours of the day, such as the world cannot give, and patience and time await to give him all that the world can give.

  FINIS

  From PUBLIC ADDRESS

  [From the Rossetti MS.]

  (1810)

  P. 1.

  If Men of weak capacities have alone the Power of Execution in Art, Mr. B. has now put to the test. If to Invent & to draw well hinders the Executive Power in Art, & his strokes are still to be Condemn’d because they are unlike those of Artists who are Unacquainted with Drawing, is now to be Decided by The Public. Mr. B.’s Inventive Powers & his Scientific Knowledge of Drawing is on all hands acknowledg’d; it only remains to be Certified whether Physiognomic Strength & Power is to give Place to Imbecillity, and whether an unabated study & Practise of forty Years (for I devoted myself to engraving in my Earliest Youth) are sufficient to elevate me above the Mediocrity to which I have hitherto been the victim. In a work of Art it is not Fine Tints that are required, but Fine Forms; fine Tints without, are nothing. Fine Tints without Fine Forms are always the Subterfuge of the Blockhead.

  I account it a Public Duty respectfully to address myself to The Chalcographic Society & to Express to them my opinion (the result of the constant Practise & Experience of Many Years) That Engraving as an art is Lost in England owing to an artfully propagated opinion that Drawing spoils an Engraver, which opinion has been held out to me by such men as Flaxman, Romney, Stothard. I request the Society to inspect my Print, of which drawing is the Foundation & indeed the Superstructure: it is drawing on copper, as Painting ought to be drawing on canvas or any other surface, & nothing Else. I request likewise that the Society will compare the Prints of Bartolozzi, Woolett, Strange &c. with the old English Portraits, that is, compare the Modem Art with the Art as it existed Previous to the Enterance of Vandyke and Rubens into this Country, since which English Engraving is Lost, & I am sure the Result of the comparison will be that the Society must be of my Opinion that engraving, by Losing drawing, has Lost all the character & all Expression, without which The Art is Lost.

  Pp. 51-57.

  In this Plate Mr. B. has resumed the style with which he set out in life, of which Heath & Stothard were the awkward imitators at that time; it is the style of Alb. Durer’s Histories & the old Engravers, which cannot be imitated by any one who does not understand drawing, & which, according to Heath & Stothard, Flaxman, & even Romney, spoils an Engraver; for Each of these Men have repeatedly asserted this Absurdity to me in Condemnation of my Work & approbation of Heath’s lame imitation, Stothard being such a fool as to suppose that his blundering blurs can be made out & delineated by any Engraver who knows how to cut dots & lozenges equally well with those little prints which I engraved after him five & twenty years ago by & which he got his reputation as a draughtsman.

  The manner in which my Character has been blasted these thirty years, both as an artist & a Man, may be seen particularly in a Sunday Paper cal’d the Examiner, Publish’ d in Beaufort Buildings (We all know that Editors of Newspapers trouble their heads very little about art & science, & that they are always paid for what they put in upon these ungracious Subjects), & the manner in which I have routed out the nest of villains will be. seen in a Poem concerning my Three years’ Herculean Labours at Felpham, which I will soon Publish. Secret Calumny & open Professions of Friendship are common enough all the world over, but have never been so good an occasion of Poetic Imagery. When a Base Man means to be your Enemy he always begins with being your Friend. Flaxman cannot deny that one of the very first Monuments he did, I gratuitously design’d for him; at the same time he was blasting my character as an Artist to Macklin, my Employer, as Macklin told me at the time; how much of his Homer & Dante he will allow to be mine I do not know, as he went far enough off to Publish them, even to Italy, but the Public will know & Posterity will know.

  Many People are so foolish [as] to think that they can wound Mr. Fuseli over my Shoulder; they will find themselves mistaken; they could not wound even Mr. Barry so.

  A certain Portrait Painter said To me in a boasting way, “Since I have Practised Painting I have lost all idea of drawing.” Such a Man must know that I look’d upon him with contempt; he did not care for this any more than West did, who hesitated & equivocated with me upon the same subject, at which time he asserted that Woolett’s Prints were superior to Basire’s because they had more Labour & Care; now this is contrary to the truth. Woolett did not know how to put so much labour into a head or a foot as Basire did; he did not know how to draw the Leaf of a tree; all his study was clean strokes & mossy tints—how then should he be able to make use of either Labour or Care, unless the Labour & Care of Imbecillity? The Life’s Labour of Mental Weakness scarcely Equals one Hour of the Labour of Ordinary Capacity, like the full Gallop of the Gouty Man to the ordinary walk of youth & health. I allow that there is such a thing as high finish’d Ignorance, as there may be a fool or a knave in an Embroider’d Coat; but I say that the Embroidery of the Ignorant finisher is not like a Coat made by another, but is an Emanation from Ignorance itself, & its finishing is like its master—The Life’s Labour of Five Hundred Idiots, for he never does the Work Himself.

  What is Call’d the English Style of Engraving, such as proceeded from the Toilettes of Woolett & Strange (for theirs were Fribble’s Toilettes) can never produce Character & Expression. I knew the Men intimately, from their Intimacy with Basire, my Master, & knew them both to be heavy lumps of Cunning & Ignorance, as their works shew to all the Continent, who laugh at the Contemptible Pretences of Englishmen to Improve Art before they even know the first Beginnings of Art. I hope this Print will redeem my Country from this Coxcomb situation & shew that it is only some Englishmen, and not All, who are thus ridiculous in their Pretences. Advertisements in Newspapers are no proof of Popular approbation, but often the Contrary. A Man who Pretends to Improve Fine Art does not know what Fine Art is. Ye English Engravers must come down from your high flights; ye must condescend to study Marc Antonio & Albert Durer. Ye must begin before you attempt to finish or improve, & wh
en you have begun you will know better than to think of improving what cannot be improv’d. It is very true, what you have said for these thirty two Years. I am Mad or Else you are so; both of us cannot be in our right senses. Posterity will judge by our Works. Woolett’s & Strange’s works are like those of Titian & Correggio: the Life’s Labour of Ignorant Journeymen, Suited to the Purposes of Commerce no doubt, for Commerce Cannot endure Individual Merit; its insatiable Maw must be fed by What all can do Equally well; at least it is so in England, as I have found to my Cost these Forty Years.

  Commerce is so far from being beneficial to Arts, or to Empires, that it is destructive of both, as all their History shews, for the above Reason of Individual Merit being its Great hatred. Empires flourish till they become Commercial, & then they are scatter’d abroad to the four winds.

  Woolett’s best works were Etch’d by Jack. Brown. Woolett Etch’d very bad himself. Strange’s Prints were, when I knew him, all done by Aliamet & his french journeymen whose names I forget.

  “The Cottagers”, & “Jocund Peasants”, the “Views in Kew Gardens”, “Foots Cray”, & “Diana”, & “Acteon”, & in short all that are Call’d Woolett’s were Etch’d by Jack Browne, & in Woolett’s works the Etching is All, tho’ even in these, a single leaf of a tree is never correct.

  Such Prints as Woolett & Strange produc’d will do for those who choose to purchase the Life’s labour of Ignorance & Imbecillity, in Preference to the Inspired Moments of Genius & Animation.

  P. 60.

  I also knew something of Tom Cooke who Engraved after Hogarth. Cooke wished to Give to Hogarth what he could take from Rafael, that is Outline & Mass & Colour, but he could not.

  P. 57.

  I do not pretend to Paint better than Rafael or Mich. Angelo or Julio Romane or Alb. Durer, but I do Pretend to Paint finer than Rubens or Rembt. or Correggio or Titian. I do not Pretend to Engrave finer than Alb. Durer, Goltzius, Sadelar or Edelinck, but I do pretend to Engrave finer than Strange, Woolett, Hall or Bartolozzi, & all because I understand drawing which They understood not.

  P. 58.

  In this manner the English Public have been imposed upon for many Years under the impression that Engraving & Painting are somewhat Else besides drawing. Painting is drawing on Canvas, & Engraving is drawing on Copper, & Nothing Else; & he who pretends to be either Painter or Engraver without being a Master of drawing is an Imposter. We may be Clever as Pugilists, but as Artists we are & have long been the Contempt of the Continent. Gravelot once said to My Master, Basire, “de English may be very clever in deir own opinions, but dey do not draw de draw.”

  Resentment for Personal Injuries has had some share in this Public Address, But Love to My Art & Zeal for my Country a much Greater.

  P. 59.

  Men think they can Copy Nature as Correctly as I copy Imagination; this they will find Impossible, & all the Copies or Pretended Copiers of Nature, from Rembrandt to Reynolds, Prove that Nature becomes to its Victim nothing but Blots & Blurs. Why are Copiers of Nature Incorrect, while Copiers of Imagination are Correct? this is manifest to all.

  Pp. 60-62.

  The Originality of this Production makes it necessary to say a few words.

  While the Works of Pope & Dryden are look’d upon as the same Art with those of Milton & Shakespeare, while the works of Strange & Woollett are look’d upon as the same Art with those of Rafael & Albert Durer, there can be no Art in a Nation but such as is Subservient to the interest of the Monopolizing Trader who Manufactures Art by the Hands of Ignorant Journeymen till at length Christian Charity is held out as a Motive to encourage a Blockhead, & he is Counted the Greatest Genius who can sell a Good-for-Nothing Commodity for a Great Price. Obedience to the Will of the Monopolist is call’d Virtue, and the really Industrious, Virtuous & Independent Barry is driven out to make room for a pack of Idle Sycophants with whitlows on their fingers. Englishmen, rouze yourselves from the fatal Slumber into which Booksellers & Trading Dealers have thrown you, Under the artfully propagated pretence that a Translation or a Copy of any kind can be as honourable to a Nation as an Original, Be-lying the English Character in that well known Saying, “Englishmen Improve what others Invent.” This Even Hogarth’s Works Prove a detestable Falshood. No Man Can Improve An Original Invention. Since Hogarth’s time we have had very few Efforts of Originality. Nor can an Original Invention Exist without Execution, Organized & minutely delineated & Articulated, Either by God or Man. I do not mean smooth’d up & Niggled & Poco-Pen’d, and all the beauties picked out & blurr’d & blotted, but Drawn with a firm & decided hand at once with all its Spots & Blemishes which are beauties & not faults, like Fuseli & Michael Angelo, Shakespeare & Milton.

  Dryden in Rhyme cries, “Milton only Planned.”

  Every Fool shook his bells throughout the Land.

  Tom Cooke cut Hogarth down with his clean Graving.

  How many thousand Connoisseurs with joy ran raving!

  Some blush at what others can see no crime in,

  But Nobody at all sees harm in Rhyming.

  Thus Hayley on his toilette seeing the sope

  Says, “Homer is very much improv’d by Pope.”

  While I looking up to my Umbrella,

  Resolv’d to be a very Contrary Fellow,

  Cry, “Tom Cooke proves, from Circumference to Center,

  No one can finish so high as the original inventor.”

  I have heard many People say, “Give me the Ideas. It is no matter what Words you put them into,” & others say, “Give me the Design, it is no matter for the Execution.” These People know Enough of Artifice, but Nothing Of Art. Ideas cannot be Given but in their minutely Appropriate Words, nor Can a Design be made without its minutely Appropriate Execution. The unorganized Blots & Blurs of Rubens & Titian are not Art, nor can their Method ever express Ideas or Imaginations any more than Pope’s Metaphysical Jargon of Rhyming. Unappropriate Execution is the Most nauseous of all affectation & foppery. He who copies does not Execute; he only Imitates what is already Executed. Execution is only the result of Invention.

  P. 63.

  Whoever looks at any of the Great & Expensive Works of Engraving that have been Publish’d by English Traders must feel a Loathing & disgust, & accordingly.most Englishmen have a Contempt for Art, which is the Greatest Curse that can fall upon a Nation.

  He who could represent Christ uniformly like a Dray-man must have Queer Conceptions; consequently his Execution must have been as Queer, & those must be Queer fellows who give great sums for such nonsense & think it fine Art.

  The Modern Chalcographic Connoisseurs & Amateurs admire only the work of the journeyman, Picking out of whites & blacks in what is call’d Tints; they despise drawing, which despises them in return. They see only whether every thing is toned down but one spot of light.

  Mr. B. submits to a more severe tribunal; he invites the admirers of old English Portraits to look at his Print.

  P. 64.

  I do not know whether Homer is a Liar & that there is no such thing as Generous Contention: I know that all those with whom I have Contended in Art have strove not to Excell, but to Starve me out by Calumny & the Arts of Trading Combination.

  P. 66.

  It is Nonsense for Noblemen & Gentlemen to offer Premiums for the Encouragement of Art when such Pictures as these can be done without Premiums; let them Encourage what Exists Already, & not endeavour to counteract by tricks; let it no more be said that Empires Encourage Arts, for it is Arts that Encourage Empires. Arts & Artists are Spiritual & laugh at Mortal Contingencies. It is in their Power to hinder Instruction but not to Instruct, just as it is in their Power to Murder a Man but not to make a Man.

  Let us teach Buonaparte, & whomsoever else it may concern, That it is not Arts that follow & attend upon Empire, but Empire that attends upon & follows The Arts.

  P. 67.

  No Man of Sense can think that an Imitation of the Objects of Nature is The Art of Painting, or that such Imitation, which any o
ne may easily perform, is worthy of Notice, much less that such an Art should be the Glory & Pride of a Nation. The Italians laugh at English Connoisseurs, who are most of them such silly Fellows as to believe this.

  A Man sets himself down with Colours & with all the Articles of Painting; he puts a Model before him & he copies that so neat as to make it a deception: now let any Man of Sense ask himself one Question: Is this Art? can it be worthy of admiration to any body of Understanding? Who could not do this? what man who has eyes and an ordinary share of patience cannot do this neatly? Is this Art? Or is it glorious to a Nation to produce such contemptible Copies? Countrymen, Countrymen, do not suffer yourselves to be disgraced!

  P. 66.

  The English Artist may be assured that he is doing an injury & injustice to his Country while he studies & imitates the Effects of Nature. England will never rival Italy while we servilely copy what the Wise Italians, Rafael & Michael Angelo, scorned, nay abhorred, as Vasari tells us.

  Call that the Public Voice which is their Error,

  Like as a Monkey peeping in a Mirror

  Admires all his colours brown & warm

  And never once percieves his ugly form.