Extract | William Blakes celebrates show flop and critic who described him as an unfortunate madman

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18th century artist, author and rebel William Blake inspired contemporary artists, musicians and poets who shaped politics, gender, religion, society and art today, but his work was largely ignored during his lifetime. In a new post, William Blake vs. The World, writer and cultural historian John Higgs explores why Blake, who said he regularly saw God, angels and demons in beatific visions, endured.

Today, Blake’s exhibitions are critically acclaimed and generally well attended. But when Blake mounted an exhibition of 13 works in 1809, it turned out to be one of the most famous flops in British art history, attracting hardly any visitors or buyers. The public was put off by the modest setting of Broad Street, by the absurdly high prices Blake insisted on charging, and by the eccentricity of Blake’s artistry. Higgs describes this murderous experience below, recounting how a critic criticized Blakes’ art as well as the mysterious demise of the greatest artistic work ever.

William Blake (1807) by Thomas Phillips National Portrait Gallery, London

Excerpt from William Blake vs. The World:

According to Blake, never before had certain paintings in a room above a haberdashery been of such high national and spiritual importance. Yet this dramatic advertisement [a leaflet printed to promote the show] did not convince the London public. There were hardly any visitors, and although the exhibit remained open a few months past the scheduled closing date, none of the images sold. The exhibition received only one review, in the September 17, 1809 edition of The Examiner. It was just beginning: If beside the stupid and senseless political project of their leaders, the sane part of the English people needed further evidence of the alarming increase in the effects of madness, they will be too well convinced that it has recently come about. propagated in the hitherto sober region of Art.

The author of the article, Robert Hunt, is concerned that praise for Blakes’ work from his few well-known and respected friends has led him to confuse his madness with genius, a mistake that Hunt felt compelled to correct. He writes: Such is the case with the productions and admirers of WILLIAM BLAKE, an unfortunate madman, whose personal harmlessness protects him from confinement, and, consequently, of whom no public notice would have been taken.[.]

The poor man thinks he’s a great master ROBERT HUNT, CRITICAL

For the remainder of the article, Hunt enjoys being vicious, condescending, and cruel. He seems determined to put this worker-maker in his place. It’s hard not to see him as one of the uninspired camp, court, and college mercenaries that Blake attacks in Milton’s preface. The poor man thinks he is a great master, writes Hunt, and he has painted a few miserable pictures, some of which are an unintelligible allegory, others an attempt at sober character by caricatural representation, and all muddled and very poorly drawn. It is what he calls an exhibition, of which he has published a catalog, or rather a farrago of absurdities, of unintelligibility and blatant vanity, the savage outpourings of a soggy brain.

The Spiritual Form of Pitt Guiding Behemoth by William Blake (circa 1805) cc Tate collection

Just as Mike Smith, the A&R man of Decca Records, is remembered as the man who turned down The Beatles, so Robert Hunt is now only known as the critic unable to appreciate the work of William Blake. Considering the cruel tone of his review, it’s hard to feel bad about this. But it’s also fair to say that there wouldn’t have been many disinterested observers who, after reading Blakes’s words and touring the exhibit, would have walked away thinking the artist was sane.

Among the few visitors, one was Henry Crabb Robinson, who will meet Blake at a dinner party sixteen years later and write in his journal: Should I call him Artist or Genie-or Mystic-or Madman? Robinson paid the entrance fee of a shilling to James Blake, Williams’ older brother, who escorted him to the upstairs room to view the exhibit. James was a sober, traditional trader who still wore old-fashioned panties and stockings, and thus made an unlikely guide into the extremes of the imagination exhibited.

The Spiritual Form of Nelson Guiding Leviathan by William Blake (circa 1805-09) cc Tate collection

The two best-known paintings in the exhibition, which now belong to the Tate Gallery, may have the improbable titles of The Spiritual Form of Nelson Guiding Leviathan and The Spiritual Form of Pitt Guiding Behemoth. The former depicts the recently deceased Admiral Nelson almost naked and physically idealized in a manner similar to Blakes’ portrayal of Newton. Blake gave Nelson two eyes and two arms, and although the painting has become indistinct with age, some writers insist he has a prominent erection. The second depicts Prime Minister Pitt the Younger as a Christ-like beatific figure. These two establishment leaders are shown controlling the Leviathan and the Behemoth respectively, these mythological monsters symbolizing war on the oceans and on land.

How exactly were these compositions meant to be interpreted has been debated at length. Was Blake genuinely a patriot, or was it a mildly cynical attempt to produce works with popular appeal, even if it meant going against his own political beliefs? Either scenario would be out of character.

A likely clue to understanding his intentions can be found in the Book of Job, which pokes fun at the idea that the great monsters of war can ever be controlled by human will:

Can you pull Leviathan with a hook or press his tongue with a rope? Can you put a rope through his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook? [. . .]

There is no equal on earth, a fearless creature. He sees all that is high; he is king over all the sons of pride.

In this context, the paintings seem to mock the claims of Pitt and Nelson, those sons of pride. Here it can be said that Blakes’ innate incomprehensibility was a plus, as his criticism of such powerful men was largely missed at the time. The paintings did not capitalize on this, however, and found a popular following. In the eyes of the general public, seeing their politicians and admirals ordering half-naked, Christ-like monsters was just strange.

It is difficult now to judge the overall impact of this exhibition, in part because the central work, a painting titled The Ancient Britons, has long been lost. It has been described as 10 feet by 14 feet, making it by far the largest piece of work Blake ever created. Questions have been raised about how a painting of this size could be set up and displayed in such a small space, an enigma that helped the painting gain its reputation as a magical artifact. Even a sketch of the composition made from memory in 1866 by the painter Seymour Kirkup has disappeared. For Blakeans, The Ancient Britons is arguably the holy grail of his lost works.

William Blake vs. the World, John Higgs, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 390pp, 20 (hb)

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