The next book appearing in this year, 1793, is entitled "America," a prophecy. It consists of eighteen plates. For richness of invention and design none of the books we have yet seen are equal to "America." The Print Room copy is printed in a dull blue, with a very happy effect, while the duplicate in the Library is in deep sombre green. Gilchrist says that no one who has not seen a coloured copy can judge of the beauty and splendour that adorn its pages. It is a difficult matter to see a coloured copy, as the only one definitely known to exist for many years was Lord Crewe's copy, which was sold last year at Sotheby's for L295. However, another coloured copy has appeared from the hitherto unknown collection of a lady in Scotland, and this I had the rare good luck to see before it was sold at Messrs. Hodgson's in January, 1904, for L207. Indeed it is beautiful, but with a quite other sort of beauty to that of the austere blue-printed copy in the Museum. The two are so different in mood and key as to seem like quite separate and distinct creations. Gilchrist says of the coloured copy which he saw--Lord Crewe's--that so fair and open were its pages, as to simulate an increase of light on the retina. That which I examined had the brightness and delicacy of Blake's colour in the earlier books, combined with the richness and grandeur of the later ones, but happily without the opacity and heaviness that sometimes accompany these later qualities. Duerer's etching of "Melancholia" is the only thing in art to which the design on the first page of "America" may be likened, but, in Beethoven's words: "Es ist mehr Ausdruck der Empfindung als Malerei." A great winged giant or Titan, with his despondent head bowed on his knees, and his face utterly shrouded by falling hair, sits chained on the ramparts of the City of Night. Seated on a stone below is a beautiful undraped woman with a little naked child in her arms, and another leaning against her thigh. Heavy clouds roll up behind the genii and the ramparts. The mood of the picture is unutterable. The winged figure is red Orc, who will presently release himself and shatter the religions of Urizen, bringing fire and pestilence and famine in his train. He is Orc, the deliverer, but, like his great prototype, he comes not "to bring peace, but a sword." In the wild clamorous poem Orc is described as the "serpent form'd who stands at the gate of Enitharmon to devour her children." Now Enitharmon is a vast mythic being without any defined personality; she symbolizes sometimes Space and sometimes Nature, while another facet of her various character, as we shall presently discover, is Pity. She is the mother of Orc, of whom, however, she is terrified, and the woman with the children in the frontispiece represents, I think, the same Enitharmon. [Illustration: FRONTISPIECE TO "AMERICA: A PROPHECY," 1793 Printed in blue, from the Print Room copy]