William Blake Part 15

He knew Blake at the time that he was learning Italian for the sake of Dante that he might execute Dante designs for Linnell. From Robinson's reminiscences, we do just get a glimpse of Blake struggling with Dante, and delighting to mystify his respectable friend. Unfortunately, the reported references in their conversations to Dante are few, though enough perhaps to indicate Blake's att.i.tude. He was not one of Dante's elect. But with closer study he was beginning to fall under his spell, and we may safely surmise that if Dante had come into Blake's life in his youth, instead of Swedenborg, Blake would have become the greatest catholic mystic artist of the age.

Little more remains to be told.

Blake in great pain of body--stomach trouble and s.h.i.+vering fits--was driven to his bed. When he knew the end was near, he said to his wife: "I have no grief but in leaving you, Catherine. We have lived happy, we have lived long, we have been ever together, but we shall be divided soon. Why should I fear death? Nor do I fear it. I have endeavoured to live as Christ commanded, and I have sought to wors.h.i.+p G.o.d truly in my own home, when I was not seen of men."

While the wife ministered to him he exclaimed suddenly, "You have ever been an angel to me, I will draw you." And he did. In answer to her, he expressed a wish to be buried at Bunhill Fields by the Church of England.

At midday on August 12th, 1827, he burst into strong joyous song, and then corrected his previous word about parting by a.s.suring Catherine that he would always be there to take care of her. Then he remained quite quiet till his spirit pa.s.sed away.

EPILOGUE

Life is a voyage of discovery or rediscovery. Those, like Blake, born in a Christian land make the same voyage. The Christian tradition is handed on to us in our tender infancy, and most people take what their immediate teachers tell them, and live on that dry stock for the rest of their days.

But the sinner and the genius, like Blake, early throw their inheritance overboard, and driven by native energy go in adventurous quest of new lands. The first half of Blake's life was spent thus. He would rebel at all costs, he would above all protest against what he hated--the religion of repression.

For many years Christianity and repression were for him synonymous terms.

His craving was for expression. Parents, teachers, priests, kings, governments, were enemies to spontaneous self-expression. Then they must go. His youthful exuberance admitted of no half-measures. Like Ezekiel and Christ, he poured out his invective against hireling shepherds: unlike them, he ceased for a time to believe in good shepherds. One and all they were out to repress men's instincts and pa.s.sions, until, driven in, the pent-up pa.s.sion poisoned their whole nature, or in the weaker sort was rendered pa.s.sive. Blake proclaimed his doctrine with vehemence, but no one regarded him.

Pursuing this course for many years, he perceived some wonderful things.

Art is expression; and he made an application of all the glories of art to human character. Teach men to express themselves, and then instead of their being as dull and similar as a flock of sheep governed by the herd instinct, they would grow into a beautiful variety. Man would create himself as an artist creates his works. The same law governed both.

Repression when successful induced a nerveless, sapless type. Man became an overwhipped dog. Expression produced a strong, beautiful character above all petty and tiresome rules of conduct. The conduct of such is carelessly right.

It was by Blake's frank proclamation of the _ego_ that he antic.i.p.ated so much of what the modern apostles of the superman have made us all familiar with. From Ibsen's _Doll's House_ to Nietzsche's _Thus spake Zarathustra_, confidence in the _ego_ has been proclaimed as the means to liberty, beauty, and sovereignty; and this has been accompanied by revivals on a large scale of those ancient mystery religions that turn on the culture of the divine _ego_.

This was a road of excess which Blake pursued as far as an individual might. In the nineteenth century the law of the _ego_, the struggle for life, the survival of the fittest, brute force, were regarded as all one, and transferred from the individual to the State, till in a few years the world was plunged into war.

Blake's voyage of rediscovery began during the Reign of Terror. The new teachers, like Swedenborg and G.o.dwin, Tom Paine and Mary Wollstonecraft, failed to satisfy his own craving for expression. The Reign of Terror appalled him when it showed him his principle at work in the proletariat.

Then it was that turning again to the Evangelists he made the wonderful discovery, which later apostles of the _ego_ have not made, that Jesus Christ was the perfect example and embodiment of his vision. He had pictured to himself a man, impelled by a creative pa.s.sion, whose character in every part should be manifestly the outcome of fiery energy.

And there was the Man in the Subject of the Gospels. But he saw that Jesus Christ could not be labelled or cla.s.sed. There was egoistic self-expression in Him, and there was self-renunciation. Somehow He had altogether escaped the modern dilemma of self-expression or self-sacrifice. Both were magnificently present in Him and united, because His self-expression was resting on His self-surrender to G.o.d. Give up G.o.d, and man swings perpetually between duty to neighbour and duty to self.

Believe in and surrender to G.o.d, and each falls into its proper place.

This was not the only synthesis in the character of Jesus. He was a union of all possible contraries. Gentleness and fierceness; non-resistance and aggressive force; non-resentment and fiery invective; forgiveness and severe justice, haughty pride and lowliness; self-confidence and utter dependence upon G.o.d, all were in Jesus. Henceforth Blake could keep his vision of Jesus and his vision of art, for they were one.

The next stage in rediscovery was to find out what the great body of dogmatic truth had affirmed about Jesus down the Christian centuries. Here he made little progress. He probably felt, as we all do at times, that the simplicity of the gospel was lost in the maze of dogmatic subtleties. The negative aspect of dogma, that it rules out all that would infringe on that simplicity, never occurred to him. His mind was governed and distracted by Hindoo pantheism, and catholic anthropomorphism filtered and diluted through Swedenborg. Even after he had repudiated Swedenborg the distraction remained. His new understanding of Christ taught him that he must accept the ultimate antinomy of good and evil, and that therefore Christ's heaven and h.e.l.l must remain; but the pantheism never abated its watery flood, and the emphatic catholic teaching of transcendence and immanence gained no sufficient hold to deliver his mind.

The truth is that Blake was not a great thinker, still less a system-builder. He ought to have found the best Christian system while young and kept to it. Then he could have lived his life of vision within coherent bounds. Clear, sharp dogma, like outline in art, would have given rest to his mind, substance to his visions, and saved him from the waste of pouring out a torrent of incoherent sayings containing sc.r.a.ps of gnosticism, theosophy, rosicrucianism, and almost every heresy under the sun.

The master-mind in his youth who could have given him a sound system was Dr Johnson, and he would not listen to him. How should the arch-rebel pay any attention to the arch-conservator? Dr Johnson said many foolish things about things of no great importance: he was wise in great matters. An ounce of folly, like a dead fly in the ointment, suffices to put off the fastidious rebel, who will seize hold of any excuse. Eventually Blake subscribed to the same creed as Dr Johnson. That surely is a marvellous unanimity for such diverse minds.

The master-mind in his age who could have given him a better system than his own, and to whom he was beginning to listen, was Dante. His catholicism may have been of a medieval pattern, but it was very little infected with the time-spirit; it is even now finer than Swedenborg's fabrication, and modern compared with the gnosticism that bulked so largely in Blake's mind.

Blake makes no disciples, and no school can claim him, but he speaks to all who have any mental equipment. His vision of Christ, if we can make it our own and fill out its defects, will put us beyond the modern wors.h.i.+p of the superman, and take us out of that sectarianism which gains ascendancy for a little while because of its lightness and fragmentariness.

The confusion in Blake's mental life affects his art. He declared consistently in times of clear vision that outline, form, and foundation are the essence of spiritual things. This is beyond anything to be found in Sir Joshua's _Discourses_, and antic.i.p.ates Benedetto Croce when he says that art is an ultimate, that "form is constant and is spiritual activity," while "matter is changeable," yet he accomplished many designs that Reynolds could have taught him to correct.

His later poems suffer still more. The energy in them is terrific, and they are filled with flashes of inspiration; but their atmosphere is murky, and never clears for more than fifty lines at a time. They are storehouses, but the one who would get anything out of them must bring his taper with him.

The early short poems, on the contrary, s.h.i.+ne with their own light. _The Tiger_ and _The Emmet_ are written before his mind has time to plunge into the penumbra of his disorderly system.

Blake was still young in spirit when he died. One feels with him, as with Tolstoi, that he had far from come to the end of his tether. He was one of the few to whose years another threescore might have been added with advantage. Where would he have arrived? I think when we remember that for more than twenty years before his death he was on the voyage of rediscovery, we may hazard the guess that he would have reached the catholic form of Christianity, having thrown overboard his private symbolism on the way; and that then he would have produced great, long poems of crystalline clearness, which would have placed him by the side of the master-poets of the ages.

Yet it is idle work guessing at what might have been. We blame a man's times, or birth, or church, or what not for his failures, when we should look for some fundamental lack in his own equipment. That Blake was not quite one of our conquerors, then, we will not attribute to the eighteenth century or to Swedenborg's predominant influence in his early life, but simply to the fact that he lacked the strong, virile reason that could keep pace with the on-rush of his visions. He was all Los: Urizen, whom he repudiated with such scorn, alone could have balanced his nature and led him to the supreme achievement.

Footnotes:

[1] This fact was first pointed out by Mr Laurence Binyon.

[2] _Jerusalem_, 72. 50-52.

[3] Prov. viii. 27-31.

[4] _Jerusalem_, 15. 61-69.

[5] Thirteenth Discourse.

[6] Genesis xlvi. 13.