The Life of William Blake
1803
We did move to the seaside village of Felpham a couple of years back and I started
working as Hayley’s protégé. As great as it started out, I feel like the things between us started
souring. But I guess what’s done is done. I sometimes wonder though, what has changed. We are
still colleagues surely, and friends too probably.
Other than that, yesterday I found a soldier, whose name is John Schofield, in my property.
Which obviously meant he was trespassing, you would agree would you not? Despite that when I
asked him to leave the property, he refused. Can you believe this man’s manners? Outrageous. So
I had to remove him by force, but I didn’t hurt him. I would never do that, I’m a man of peace. And
still he accused me of assault and, worse, of sedition, claiming that I had damned the king. Look at
the nerve of that man. I might be exiled for this. Still the worst part is, I was only defending my
land and my family.
1804
Remember the soldier who trespassed my property, who also accused me of assault and,
worse, of sedition, claiming that I had damned the king? Well, because of him even a year later, I
am uncertain of my faith. And it is not just me; what will become of my family once I am gone. If I
am found guilty severe punishments await me.
Thank God though, Hayley did not leave us alone in these hard times and is helping us out.
He hired a lawyer on my behalf, one of the finest. And if I am not found guilty, which I am praying
for as is Catherine, my wife and I will be moving back to London. We thought it would be a good
change rather than staying here. A fresh you might say. But until then we can only wait and pray.
1819
It has been a long time old friend. I haven’t written here for fifteen years. That’s the longest,
I think. We should catch up. I see that the last time I was talking about being blamed, well I got
acquitted and then we moved to London. That’s also where I started painting Jerusalem, I have
never been so excited or ambitious about anything. Oh, you should have seen it, it looked
fantastic. I also started giving more of my work for exhibition, although sadly people didn’t seem to
be like them and made rude comments. So for a while I did little, but like anything that had a price
too; I sank into poverty like it was a swamp.
But as of today, I’m opening a new page. I’ll start painting a new series of paintings all
dedicated to historical and imaginary figures that appeared and sat for me. I am thinking of calling
them “Visionary Heads”. Sound good, doesn’t it?
1827
Two years ago-or also might be three-I was diagnosed with a terrible, terrible illness. It
doesn’t have a cure only that much is clear about it. Even the doctors call it "that sickness to which
there is no name”. I am aware that I’ll probably be dead soon, and honestly I’m scared. These last
few days, I have been questioning myself. Have I done enough with the time I was given? Did I
really use it wisely? Have I influenced people? Was it worth it?
All I wanted to be was an influence to some people, not many just some, so that I won’t be
forgotten. I guess I kind of guaranteed that I believe that my wife, Catherine will never forget me,
as I would not if I were to outlive her. Some other people might remember too, but that is if I’m
optimistic. Maybe they were right though, all those critics to say that I was “an unfortunate lunatic”,
and calling my work “nonsense, unintelligibleness and egregious vanity" or maybe they were the
“unfortunate lunatics” and I was just underrated. That’s what I’m hoping. Farewell friend.
