plates 7 and 10 are pieces of mannerism to be regretted, the latter even seeming a reminiscence of Macbeth's Witches by Fuseli; and a few other slight instances might, perhaps, be cited. But, on the whole, these are designs no less well and clearly considered, however highly imaginative, than the others in the small highest class of original engraved inventions, which comprises the works of Albert Dürer, of Rembrandt, of Hogarth, of Turner, of Cruikshank in his best time, and some few others. Like all these they are incisive and richly toned to a degree which can only be attained in engraving by the original inventor, and have equally a style of execution all their own. In spirit and character they are no less independent, having more real affinity, perhaps, with Orcagna than with any other of the greatest men. In their unison of natural study with imagination, they remind one decidedly of him; and also of Giotto, himself the author of a now almost destroyed series of frescos from Job, in the Campo Santa at Pisa, which it would be interesting to compare, as far as possible, with these inventions of Blake. To the high artistic value of this series Mr. Ruskin has borne witness. In his Elements of Drawing for Beginners (1857), it is specified among the Things to be Studied.' 'The Book of Job, engraved by himself' (by Blake, that is), it is there said, 'is of the highest rank in certain characters 'of imagination and expression; in the mode of obtaining 'certain effects of light, it will also be a very useful example 'to you. In expressing conditions of glaring and flickering 'light, Blake is greater than Rembrandt.' March 8th, 1825, was the publishing date on the plates; the date by which Blake had expected to have finished them. But March, 1826, is the date given on the cover, and the correct one. The publishing price was three guineas; proofs, five; India paper proofs, six. The circulation was limited; the mode of publication, for one thing, being a very quiet one. In April, 1825, another lingerer in the small knot of Blake's earliest friends was summoned away by Death: Fuseli, whose health and bodily strength had, for the last year or two, been failing, but not his faculties. He died in his eighty-fourth year; neglected by picture buyers, honoured by all in his own profession, by men of letters, by some among the great,' and not without a fair share of the goods of fortune. Of Fuseli Blake had always been a warm and generous admirer, and was wont to declare, 'This country 'must advance two centuries in civilisation before it can ' appreciate him.' Let us hope a few of that remarkable man's original, if mannered and undisciplined, works will survive the extraordinary and disproportioned neglect which has exiled them to the cellar and the garret. CHAPTER XXXIII. HAMPSTEAD; AND YOUTHFUL DISCIPLES. 1825-27. [ÆT. 68-70.] THE following letter is the first in a brief series preserved by Mr. Linnell, interesting as among the comparatively small number of Blake's writing extant. Apart from those which were the result of his stay at Felpham, I think he wrote but few. It is to Mrs. Linnell, Collins's Farm, North End, Hampstead,' and is dated Tuesday, 11th October, 1825 : DEAR MADAM, I HAVE had the pleasure to see Mr. Linnell set off safe in a very comfortable coach. And I may say I accompanied him part of the way on his journey in the coach. For we both got in, together with another passenger, and entered into conversation, when at length we found that we were all three proceeding on our journey. But as I had not paid, and did not wish to pay for or take so long a ride, we, with some difficulty, made the coachman understand that one of his passengers was unwilling to go, when he obligingly permitted me to get out-to my great joy. Hence, I am now enabled to tell you that I hope to see you on Sunday morning as usual, which I could not have done if they had taken me to Gloucester. I am, dear Madam, Yours Sincerely, WILLIAM BLAKE. Blake was, at this period, in the habit, when well, of spending frequent happy Sundays at his friend's Hampstead VOL. I. Ꮓ Cottage, where he was received by host and hostess with the most cordial affection, Mr. Linnell's manner was as that of a son; Mrs. Linnell was hospitable and kind, as ladies well know how to be to a valued friend. The children, whenever he was expected, were on the qui vive to catch the first glimpse of him from afar. One of them, who has now children of her own, but still cherishes the old reverence for Mr. Blake,' remembers thus watching for him when a little girl of five or six; and how, as he walked over the brow of the hill and came within sight of the young ones, he would make a particular signal; how Dr. Thornton, another friend and frequent visitor, would make a different one, the Doctor taking off his hat and raising it on a stick. She remembers how Blake would take her on his knee, and recite children's stories to them all recollects his kind. manner; his putting her in the way of drawing, training her from his own doings. One day he brought up to Hampstead an early sketch-book, full of most singular things, as it seemed to the children. But, in the midst of them, they came upon a finished, pre-Raphaelite-like drawing of a grasshopper, with which they were delighted. Mr. Linnell had first taken lodgings at Hampstead in June, 1822; and in March, 1824, moved his family to a farm-house there, part of which was let off as a separate habitation, as it is to this day. For Collins's Farm yet stands, altered by the erection of new out-buildings, and the loss of some of its trees, but not so much altered as most things in Hampstead. It is on the north, or countryward side, beyond the Heath, between North End and the Spaniards.' North End, as every cockney knows, lies in a hollow over the Heath, a cluster of villa residences, amid gardens and pleasure-grounds, their roofs embosomed in trees. As you walk from it towards the Spaniards,' a winding lane to the left brings you back into the same high road. A little off this, there is another winding way, in the middle of which stands Collins's Farm, at the bottom of another hollow. The house, an old one, looks out in front upon the heathery hillside; at back, upon meadows and hedgerows, in summer one monotonous tint of heavy green. From the hill-side, the well-pitched red roof of the farm-house picturesquely peeps out among the trees below. To London children the place must have been a little Paradise. Blake, too, notwithstanding a theoretic dislike to Hampstead, practically enjoyed his visits. Mr. Linnell's part of the house,-a later erection than the rest, and of lower height, with a separate entrance through the garden which stretches beside,-was small and humble, containing only five rooms. In front it commanded a pleasant southern aspect. Blake, it is still remembered, would often stand at the door, gazing, in tranquil reverie, across the garden toward the gorse-clad hill. He liked sitting in the arbour, at the bottom of the long garden, or walking up and down the same at dusk, while the cows, munching their evening meal, were audible from the farmyard on the other side the hedge. He was very fond of hearing Mrs. Linnell sing Scottish songs, and would sit by the pianoforte, tears falling from his eyes, while he listened to the Border Melody to which the song is set commencing 'O Nancy's hair is yellow as gowd, To simple national melodies Blake was very impressionable, though not so to music of more complicated structure. He himself still sang, in a voice tremulous with age, sometimes old ballads, sometimes his own songs, to melodies of his own. The modest interior of the rustic cottage was rendered delightful, as artists can generally render their houses, by tasteful fitting up and by fine prints and pictures hanging on the walls. Many an interesting friendly gathering took place there, comprising often a complete circle of what are vulgarly called 'characters.' Sometimes, for instance, it |