Review
Art
Culture
5 min read

Blake, imagination and the insight of God

A new exhibition focuses on seekers of spiritual regeneration and national revival.

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

William Blake's illustration of God squatting down to create with his hair and beard blown to one side
Blake's Ancient of Days.
The Fitzwilliam Museum.

The exhibition William Blake’s Universe at the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, enables visitors to discover a constellation of European Romantic artists who sought spirituality in their lives and art in response to war, revolution and political turbulence. 

The exhibition brings together the largest-ever display of works by the radical British artist, printmaker and poet from the Fitzwilliam Museum's collection, alongside artworks by Blake's European contemporaries such as the German romantic painters Philipp Otto Runge and Caspar David Friedrich – many of which have never been displayed publicly in the UK until now. Though they never met or connected in their lifetimes, Blake, Runge and Friedrich shared an unwavering belief in the power of art to redeem a society in crisis.  

Blake believed it ‘is only the imagination’, the faculty we have neglected, which can lead us out of our self-imposed prison. 

The exhibition also places Blake within his artistic network in Britain, drawing parallels with the work of his peers, mentors and followers including Henry Fuseli, John Flaxman, and Samuel Palmer. In the exhibition catalogue Esther Chadwick draws attention to a little-known series of paintings in which ‘Blake is shown partaking in an immense community of like-minded intellectuals of the European Romantic generation.’ These include writers and poets associated with Runge, as well as artists and poets such as Flaxman, William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Flaxman introduced Charles Augustus Tulk, a well-known Swedenborgian, to Blake, to whom Tulk later introduced Coleridge saying ‘Blake and Coleridge, when in company seemed like congenial beings from another sphere breathing for a while on our earth’. 

Exhibition curators David Bindman and Chadwick have said: “This is the first exhibition to show William Blake not as an isolated figure but as part of European-wide attempts to find a new spirituality in face of the revolutions and wars of his time. We are excited to be able to shed new light on Blake by placing his works in dialogue with wider trends and themes in European art of the Romantic period, including transformations of classical tradition, fascination with Christian mysticism, belief in the coming apocalypse, spiritual regeneration and national revival.” 

Independently of each other, Blake and Runge were inspired by the writings of German mystic Jacob Böhme, who, as Bindman and Chadwick explain, ‘believed that all being arises from the dynamic interplay of opposites: between darkness and light, life and death, hot and cold, male and female’. As a result, he viewed our spiritual quest as ‘the reconciliation of differences to produce spiritual and philosophical regeneration’. Bryan Aubrey has also shown that Böhme believed human beings can share in the divine imagination, through which we act ‘with, and on behalf of, the creator’. Böhme ‘equated the strong imagination with the faith that moves mountains’ while Blake believed it ‘is only the imagination’, the faculty we have neglected, which can lead us out of our self-imposed prison. Blake was, as a result, indebted to Böhme for his concept of the imagination and his doctrine of contraries. 

This exhibition demonstrates that many of great Romantic philosophers and writers were seeking just such a spiritual regeneration and national revival. 

Melanie Öhlenbach has argued that ‘Runge's life, his theory and works bear testimony to Böhme's importance’. For Runge, art ‘is considered as the revelation of God and the artist as its tool, while the artist's imagination creates the insight of God’. He believed it is ‘the artists' duty to re-create the diverging harmony of man and cosmos in the sense of an artistic-spiritual revolution’. She writes that due to his early death, ‘Runge managed only partly to put his ambitions into practice’, notably in his Times of Day series which represent not only the changing times of day, but the seasons, the ages of humanity and historical epochs. Similarly, Friedrich’s seven sepia drawings The Ages of Man are thought to be inspired by Runge’s interest in visual representations of time, meaning that this exquisitely delicate series is associated with the themes of change in nature, the cyclical representation of time and the temporality of human life. 

The significance of these artists is, in part, as prophets within the Christian tradition. Lucy Winkett has noted that ‘Blake’s faith was in the Jesus whom he believed the Church had abandoned’. As a result, ‘he was — and still is — an internal rather than external critic of the way in which the Christian faith is practised by its adherents; and so, for those who have ears to hear, his is a prophetic rather than destructive force within the Christian tradition’. Richard A. Rosengarten states that ‘Blake wanted to stir things up because he thought the Christian revelation was meant to stir things up’. He argues that, for Blake, the ‘first step in doing so (after reading the Bible from stem to stern) was to liberate Imagination from the shackles of Reason’. This is what ‘could make us fully human again, and thus much more approximately the creatures of God that we truly are’.   

Malcolm Guite suggests that both Blake and Coleridge: ‘recognised Jesus as the Divine Imagination and Love bodied forth for us and kindling afresh in us the love and imagination which is God’s lost image deep in our souls. Both men were calling for England (‘Albion’ in Blakes terms) to awaken from the sleep of materialism, greed and conquest, and to be renewed in Christ through an awakening of the spiritual imagination.’ 

This exhibition demonstrates that many of great Romantic philosophers and writers were seeking just such a spiritual regeneration and national revival. In our own time of war, revolution and political turbulence, it may be that this is a prescient exhibition bringing us artists who, as Winkett said of Blake, have ‘a distinctively Christian voice for our time’.  

In Jerusalem, one of Blake’s illuminated books from which many plates are shown in this exhibition, Blake writes: ‘I know of no other Christianity and of no other Gospel than the liberty both of body and mind to exercise the Divine Arts of Imagination – Imagination, the real & eternal World of which this Vegetable Universe is but a faint shadow, & in which we shall live in our Eternal or Imaginative Bodies when these Vegetable Mortal Bodies are no more.’ 

William Blake’s Universe, 23 February 2024 - 19 May 2024, Fitzwilliam Museum.

Watch the exhibition trailer

Column
Culture
Justice
Trauma
4 min read

Do victim statements offer up drama or justice?

Recent tragic cases highlight the changing audience for impact statements.

George is a visiting fellow at the London School of Economics and an Anglican priest.

A classical court house with a statue on top of a dome.
The Old Bailey.

It’s a lesser-known irony of ancient history that it was Roman Emperor Tiberius who introduced Justitia to the pantheon of the gods, as the goddess of justice. Ironic in that it was Tiberius’s minion, Pontius Pilate, in remote Judea, who had history’s worst day at the office, administering Roman justice so cack-handedly on an insurgent preacher and miracle-worker from Nazareth that he sparked a chain of events on which a whole new system of (at least western) justice was founded. 

Justitia was the antecedent of Lady Justice, whose statue adorns the dome of London’s central criminal court at the Old Bailey – and many other courts besides. She invariably holds the judicial symbols of weighing scales and a sword. And she is often blindfolded, though not on the Old Bailey, despite such constitutional eminences as the shadow justice secretary Robert Jenrick erroneously claiming she is. 

The blindfold, scales and sword symbolise Lady Justice’s impartiality, the primacy of evidence and the equality of all before the law. We’ve grown accustomed to the rule of law in our democracy being applied blindly and without emotion. Convicted murderers are often described as having acted in cold blood and we expect justice to be served on them in the same manner, coldly. 

It’s in that context that I want to examine one way in which Lady Justice is going a bit wrong these days. It’s not about miscarriage of justice, so much as the dispassion of it. I’m talking about the victim impact statement, introduced in the UK in 1996, which comes between conviction and sentencing. 

It was meant to be an opportunity for victims and their families to tell the court of the impact and effects of the crime committed upon them. And, in that sense, to assist the judge or other sentencing authority to deliver an appropriate degree of punishment. So it is about the impact of the crime on those most directly affected by it. 

That appears no longer to be solely – or even in some instances partly – the case. The victim statement now seems to be an opportunity for the irreparably damaged to sound off at the defendant, to vent their pain and anger and contempt for and at the wretched convict. 

Take John Hunt, the BBC correspondent who lost his wife Carol and two of their three daughters, Hannah and Louise, to a multiple murder (and rape) one day last summer. His victim statement was less about the unimaginable effect these crimes have had on him and his surviving daughter, Amy, than about the divine judgment he would wish to call down on the murderer, Louise’s former partner Kyle Clifford. 

It really served no judicial purpose. It’s impossible to conceive that anything Hunt had to say had the slightest influence over the judge’s intention to pass down whole-life terms on Clifford, which he duly did. Its sole purpose seems to have been to allow Hunt to have his day in court, as it were, and who would wish to deny him that? But that does undermine the explicit purpose of the victim statement. 

Hunt himself conceded as much at the start of his statement when he said of his victim statement:  

“I initially misunderstood its purpose. Do I really need to detail the impact  of having three quarters of my family murdered?”  

He’s right – he didn’t. But he saw it as his “final opportunity” to address his family’s murderer. There followed an excruciating and heart-rending verbal attack on the convicted prisoner, culminating with the prophecy of his despatch to hell on his “dying day”:  

“The screams of Hell, Kyle, I can hear them now. The red carpet will come out for you…” 

I can’t know if Hunt would prefer the death penalty to be available to despatch his family’s killer immediately. One suspects he probably does. I oppose it, one reason being that it can leave no room for penance and redemption. We must surely all agree that Hunt gets a free pass on that rationale, but with no more severe sentence available than that which was passed, again we must ask what the purpose of the victim statement was. 

If it is simply to wish a hellish death on the perpetrator, then again we need to ask what purpose is being served and, indeed, if it’s healthy both for the judicial process and for the victim who delivers the statement. 

The same thought arose at a pre-sentencing hearing of the recent Nottingham murderer, when the son of one of the three victims, James Coates, told the killer:  

“Valdo Calocane, you claim the voices told you to kill these innocent people. Now listen to me, kill yourself.” 

Is that about impact? I don’t think so. I fear it has more to do with theatre in a media age that is insatiable for drama. Part of the purpose of the law is to maintain a distance between those affected emotionally and those who have committed crimes against them. 

Remove that and we reduce not only some of the justice for criminals to mere spectacle, but also in some degree respect for their victims and, indeed, the quality of mercy. 

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