Proverbs of Hell 18

This is the eighteenth entry in my series on William Blake’s “Proverbs of Hell” please see this post for details, background, and context.

The soul of sweet delight, can never be defil’d.

The soul of sweet delight may be referring to an interior condition, but it may also be referring to a more metaphoric “soul” of sweet delight as an emotion. Either way, it’s clear that to Blake, the emotion or experience of sweet delight cannot be defiled, spoiled, or ruined by cynicism, jealousy, or the like.

Whenever that train of thought appears, it’s useful to realize that there is no way Blake thought there was anything innate about a “soul of sweet delight” this man was a reformed Anglican. He is recommending that the reader choose to model a soul of sweet delight, because he knew that the process of cultivating an interior state of sweet delight would lead the reader away from defilement, either by themselves or by others.

When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius, lift up thy head!

Back to our old friend the Oxford English Dictionary to see which of the definitions of Genius he may have been referencing. They cite one or two examples of the word that resemble our modern usage, but the far more likely definition, stretching back to the time where all high-born English people only spoke French, is that a “genius” is a supernatural being. They would be a spiritual advisor, like a shoulder or guardian angel, the plural of the noun is even genii, which points directly back to old traditions of djinn from the East. The OED does point to several contemporary uses of the word as a “gifted or talented person” but even they were decades after The Marriage of Heaven and Hell was published.

With the capitalization, and the tone of the advice itself it’s clear to me that Blake, when he saw an eagle, saw a portion of that supernatural guidance, providence, and sublimity that he would only associate with spiritual practices and religion. An Eagle contained a sliver of the very glory of god, yet, I can’t image Blake would say differently about any other animal.

I’m not going to talk about the Imperial symbology implications of eagles, because I don’t have talons so going out on limbs is dangerous for me.

As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.

I was chuckling as I put this down, this is one of those deliberately infuriating pieces because of it’s specificity and veracity.

A caterpillar chooses the fairest leaves because they will nourish the young the best. They will hatch and consume the entire leaf before growing enough to move on to others. The better the leaf, the more young should survive.

For a priest, a “joy” is their competition and sustenance. By choosing something to preach against, say chocolate milk, they now have a direction to send all the bad feelings and misfortunes that their flock/congregation/eggs have experienced in their lives. The priest’s audience will winnow itself down to those willing to stop drinking chocolate milk for whatever health, financial, or moral reasons the priest proposed and convinced them of, and slowly the milk and chocolate parts will also become disreputable. Eventually, there will be no reason to tell this congregation/caterpillars about chocolate milk because they don’t even like milk here. So the priest will have to move on to find something else to blame their woes on.

Notably, this entire process is short circuited if the priest does the one thing that their religion is supposed to require them to do and actually go and minister to their flock by serving them and helping them fix their lives humbly and wisely. However, as long as there have been tribal leaders and shamans, there have been charlatans, crooks, and even just anxious, well-meaning people who chose to manage a group’s symptoms by trying to keep the “blame” moving until they can solidify their own position against challengers and misfortune. Priests in particular have not only been guilty of this, but also of leading and enabling the worst excesses and cruelties of the human race in an effort to keep their caterpillars fed.

The best “leaves” are the ones with both staying power and a lot of life in them. Consumer goods are limited, trends are limited, even books and ideas only have so much they can take before they are completely consumed by a mob either trying to ban them or enshrine them. All of these can be robbed of their animating power by the priest’s flock through idolization and endless reinterpretation or direct violence and destruction.

The most resilient and lush leaves are people who can’t easily change things about themselves and can’t be conveniently disappeared. The people who are full of joy, life, and chlorophyll are the ones who can be hated and hated and hated without perishing from the caterpillar’s teeth, or loved and loved and loved until they aren’t able to function as members of their own community anymore and become twisted shadows, disconnected from the shining image of their own face. These varied people can’t change who they are, so the priest can use them as punching bags or golden idols as much as they choose and they will continue existing despite the dark hunger of the contained caterpillars. What other choice do they have? So generations of priests, kings, bosses, and bullies have chosen them as the rich nourishment for their little fiefdoms, and still people rise up over them again and again.

Good grief that was a stiff one, get some sun and air today, it’s May and new life is springing from everywhere. Be well.

Music (WARNING FOR MEDICAL ABUSE IMAGERY AND KICK-ASS INDUSTRIAL METAL):