Four Years-第8章

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　people；　but　he　did　mind　my　refusal　to　show　him　what　i　had　written。　though　what　i　had　written　was　all　eulogy；　i　dreaded　his　judgment　for　it　was　my　first　art　criticism。　i　hated　his　big　lion　pictures；　where　he　attempted　an　art　too　much　concerned　with　the　sense　of　touch；　with　the　softness　or　roughness；　the　minutely　observed　irregularity　of　surfaces；　for　his　genius；　and　i　think　he　knew　it。　rossetti　used　to　call　my　pictures　pot？　boilers；　he　said；　but　they　are　all？？all；　and　he　waved　his　arms　to　the　canvases；　symbols。　when　i　wanted　him　to　design　gods　and　angels　and　lost　spirits　once　more；　he　always　came　back　to　the　point；　nobody　would　be　pleased。　everybody　should　have　a　raison　detre　was　one　of　his　phrases。

mrs？？s　articles　are　not　good　but　they　are　her　raison　detre。　i　had　but　little　knowledge　of　art；　for　there　was　little　scholarship　in　the　dublin　art　school；　so　i　overrated　the　quality　of　anything　that　could　be　connected　with　my　general　beliefs　about　the　world。　if　i　had　been　able　to　give　angelical；　or　diabolical　names　to　his　lions　i　might　have　liked　them　also　and　i　think　that　nettleship　himself　would　have　liked　them　better；　and　liking　them　better　have　bee　a　better　painter。　we　had　the　same　kind　of　religious　feeling；　but　i　could　give　a　crude　philosophical　expression　to　mine　while　he　could　only　express　his　in　action　or　with　brush　and　pencil。　he　often　told　me　of　certain　ascetic　ambitions；　very　much　like　my　own；　for　he　had　kept　all　the　moral　ambition　of　youth　with　a　moral　courage　peculiar　to　himself；　as　for　instance？？yeats；　the　other　night　i　was　arrested　by　a　policeman？？was　walking　round　regents　park　barefooted　to　keep　the　flesh　under？？good　sort　of　thing　to　do？？i　was　carrying　my　boots　in　my　hand　and　he　thought　i　was　a　burglar；　and　even　when　i　explained　and　gave　him　half　a　crown；　he　would　not　let　me　go　till　i　had　promised　to　put　on　my　boots　before　i　met　the　next　policeman。

he　was　very　proud　and　shy；　and　i　could　not　imagine　anybody　asking　him　questions；　and　so　i　was　content　to　take　these　stories　as　they　came；　confirmations　of　stories　i　had　heard　in　boyhood。　one　story　in　particular　had　stirred　my　imagination；　for；　ashamed　all　my　boyhood　of　my　lack　of　physical　courage；　i　admired　what　was　beyond　my　imitation。　he　thought　that　any　weakness；　even　a　weakness　of　body；　had　the　character　of　sin；　and　while　at　breakfast　with　his　brother；　with　whom　he　shared　a　room　on　the　third　floor　of　a　corner　house；　he　said　that　his　nerves　were　out　of　order。　presently　he　left　the　table；　and　got　out　through　the　window　and　on　to　a　stone　ledge　that　ran　along　the　wall　under　the　windowsills。　he　sidled　along　the　ledge；　and　turning　the　corner　with　it；　got　in　at　a　different　window　and　returned　to　the　table。　my　nerves；　he　said；　are　better　than　i　thought。

　。。



Four　YearsXIV

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nettleship　said　to　me：　has　edwin　ellis　ever　said　anything　about　the　effect　of　drink　upon　my　genius？　no；　i　answered。　i　ask；　he　said；　because　i　have　always　thought　that　ellis　has　some　strange　medical　insight。　though　i　had　answered　no；　ellis　had　only　a　few　days　before　used　these　words：　nettleship　drank　his　genius　away。

ellis；　but　lately　returned　from　perugia；　where　he　had　lived　many　years；　was　another　old　friend　of　my　fathers　but　some　years　younger　than　nettleship　or　my　father。　nettleship　had　found　his　simplifying　image；　but　in　his　painting　had　turned　away　from　it；　while　ellis；　the　son　of　alexander　ellis；　a　once　famous　man　of　science；　who　was　perhaps　the　last　man　in　england　to　run　the　circle　of　the　sciences　without　superficiality；　had　never　found　that　image　at　all。　he　was　a　painter　and　poet；　but　his　painting；　which　did　not　interest　me；　showed　no　influence　but　that　of　leighton。　he　had　started　perhaps　a　couple　of　years　too　late　for　pre？raphaelite　influence；　for　no　great　pre？raphaelite　picture　was　painted　after　1870；　and　left　england　too　soon　for　that　of　the　french　painters。

he　was；　however；　sometimes　moving　as　a　poet　and　still　more　often　an　astonishment。　i　have　known　him　cast　something　just　said　into　a　dozen　lines　of　musical　verse；　without　apparently　ceasing　to　talk；　but　the　work　once　done　he　could　not　or　would　not　amend　it；　and　my　father　thought　he　lacked　all　ambition。　yet　he　had　at　times　nobility　of　rhythm？？an　instinct　for　grandeur？？and　after　thirty　years　i　still　repeat　to　myself　his　address　to　mother　earth：　o　mother　of　the　hills；　forgive　our　towers；　o　mother　of　the　clouds；　forgive　our　dreams　and　there　are　certain　whole　poems　that　i　read　from　time　to　time　or　try　to　make　others　read。　there　is　that　poemwhere　the　manner　is　unworthy　of　the　matter；　being　loose　and　facile；　describing　adam　and　eve　fleeing　from　paradise。　adam　asks　eve　what　she　carries　so　carefully　and　eve　replies　that　it　is　a　little　of　the　apple　core　kept　for　their　children。　there　is　that　vision　of　christ　the　less；　a　too　hurriedly　written　ballad；　where　the　half　of　christ；　sacrificed　to　the　divine　half　that　fled　to　seek　felicity；　wanders　wailing　through　golgotha；　and　there　is　the　saint　and　the　youth　in　which　i　can　discover　no　fault　at　all。　he　loved　plexities？？seven　silences　like　candles　round　her　face　is　a　line　of　his？？and　whether　he　wrote　well　or　ill　had　always　a　manner；　which　i　would　have　known　from　that　of　any　other　poet。　he　would　say　to　me；　i　am　a　mathematician　with　the　mathematics　left　out？？his　father　was　a　great　mathematician？？or　a　woman　once　said　to　me；　〃mr。　ellis　why　are　your　poems　like　sums？〃　and　certainly　he　loved　symbols　and　abstractions。　he　said　once；　when　i　had　asked　him　not　to　mention　something　or　other；　surely　you　have　discovered　by　this　time　that　i　know　of　no　means　whereby　i　can　mention　a　fact　in　conversation。

he　had　a　passion　for　blake；　picked　up　in　pre？raphaelite　studios；　and　early　in　our　acquaintance　put　into　my　hands　a　scrap　of　note　paper　on　which　he　had　written　some　years　before　an　interpretation　of　the　poem　that　begins　the　fields　from　islington　to　marylebone　to　primrose　hill　and　st。　johns　wood　were　builded　over　with　pillars　of　gold　and　there　jerusalems　pillars　stood。

the　four　quarters　of　london　represented　blakes　four　great　mythological　personages；　the　zoas；　and　also　the　four　elements。　these　few　sentences　were　the　foundation　of　all　study　of　the　philosophy　of　william　blake；　that　requires　an　exact　knowledge　for　its　pursuit　and　that　traces　the　connection　between　his　system　and　that　of　swedenborg　or　of　boehme。　i　recognised　certain　attributions；　from　what　is　sometimes　called　the　christian　cabala；　of　which　ellis　had　never　heard；　and　with　this　proof　that　his　interpretation　was　more　than　phantasy；　he　and　i　began　our　four　years　work　upon　the　prophetic　books　of　william　blake。　we　took　it　as　almost　a　sign　of　blakes　personal　help　when　we　discovered　that　the　spring　of　1889；　when　we　first　joined　our　knowledge；　was　one　hundred　years　from　the　publication　of　the　book　of　thel；　the　first　published　of　the　prophetic　books；　as　though　it　were　firmly　established　that　the　dead　delight　in　anniversaries。　after　months　of　discussion　and　reading；　we　made　a　concordance　of　all　blakes　mystical　terms；　and　there　was　much　copying　to　be　done　in　the　museum　&　at　red　hill；　where　the　descendants　of　blakes　friend　and　patron；　the　landscape　painter；　john　linnell；　had　many　manuscripts。　the　linnellswere　narrow　in　their　religious　ideas　&　doubtful　of　blakes　orthodoxy；　whom　they　held；　however；　in　great　honour；　and　i　remember　a　timid　old　lady　who　had　known　blake　when　a　child　saying：　he　had　very　wrong　ideas；　he　did　not　believe　in　the　historical　jesus。　one　old　man　sat　always　beside　us　ostensibly　to　sharpen　our　pencils；　but　perhaps　really　to　see　that　we　did　not　steal　the　manuscripts；　and　they　gave　us　very　old　port　at　lunch　and　i　have　upon　my　dining　room　walls　their　present　of　blakes　dante　engravings。　going　thither　and　returning　ellis　would　entertain　me　by　philosophical　discussion；　varied　with　improvised　stories；　at　first　folk　tales　which　he　professed　to　have　picked　up　in　scotland；　and　though　i　had　read　and　collected　many　folk　tales；　i　did　not　see　through　the　deceit。　i　have　a　partial　memory　of　two　more　elaborate　tales；　one　of　an　italian　conspirator　flying　barefoot　from　i　forget　what　adventure　through　i　forget　what　italian　city；　in　the　early　morning。　fearing　to　be　recognised　by　his　bare　feet；　he　slipped　past　the　sleepy　porter　at　an　hotel　calling　out　number　so　and　so　as　if　he　were　some　belated　guest。　then　passing　from　bedroom　door　to　door　he　tried　on　the　boots；　and　just　as　he　got　a　pair　to　fit　a　voice　cried　from　the　room　who　is　that？

merely　me；　sir；　he　called　back；　taking　your　boots。　the　other　was　of　a　martyrs　bible　round　which　the　cardinal　virtues　had　taken　personal　form？？this　a　fragment　of　blakes　philosophy。　it　was　in　the　possession　of　an　old　clergyman　when　a　certain　jockey　called　upon　him；　and　the　cardinal　virtues；　confused　between　jockey　and　clergyman；　devoted　themselves　to　the　jockey。　as　whenever　he　sinned　a　cardinal　virtue　interfered　and　turned　him　back　to　virtue；　he　lived　in　great　credit　and　made；　but　for　one　sentence；　a　very　holy　death。　as　his　wife　and　family　knelt　round　in　admiration　and　grief；　he　suddenly　said　damn。　o　my　dear；　said　his　wife；　what　a　dreadful　expression。　he　answered；　i　am　going　to　heaven　and　straightway　died。　it　was　a　long　tale；　for　there　were　all　the　jockeys　vain　attempts　to　sin；　as　well　as　all　the　adventures　of　the　clergyman；　who　became　v