Page:Life of William Blake, Gilchrist.djvu/425

 and in the face, often, of uncourteous opposition. At Hampstead, one day, Collins the painter,—after having said very rude things, such as people of the world, under the consciousness of superior sense and sanity, will indulge in towards those they call 'enthusiasts,'—was obliged to confess Blake had made a very gentlemanly and temperate return. Nobody, to look at or listen to him in society, would have taken him for the knock-me-down assertor he was in his writings. Crudities there may, in fact, be set down to his never having won real ease or freedom in that mode of expression. In more intimate relations again, his own goodness and sweetness of nature spoke still more eloquently. And if he had received a kindness, the tender heart was so sensitive, he could hardly do enough to show his consciousness of it.

Nor was Blake one of that numerous class who reserve their civility for their social superiors or mental equals, the distinguished and celebrated,—those recommended, in short, by the suffrages of others. 'He was equally polite (and that is rare indeed) to men of every age and rank; honouring all men.' In which he resembled Flaxman, who addressed his carvers and workmen as 'friends,' and made them such by his kindness. Of this spontaneous courtesy to all, the following is an instance:—Once, while his young friend Calvert was with him in Fountain Court, a man brought up a sack of coals, knocked at the door, and asked, 'Are these coals for here?' 'No, Sir,' answered Blake, in quiet, courteous tones, as to an equal; 'but I'll ask whose they are.' Blake's fellow lodgers were humble but respectable. The court did not, in those days, present, as now, its idle groups of women, hanging about outside the doors, with free and easy, not to say unfinished, toilets; there was no excessive noise of children. Children at play there doubtless often were, as one of Mr. Palmer's anecdotes would indicate.

Vehement and outrageous as Blake could at times be (in words), his ordinary habit of mind was—at all events in these latter years—one of equable gentleness. He was no longer