A Grain of Sand in Lambeth
Landor Theatre, London

Shirley Dent

If you are familiar with Blake's thunderous prophetic writings and the intricacies of a voice that matches Biblical hexameters with the street-mob-salon politics of the 1790s, religious enthusiasm with damning political satire and, for good measure, chucks in a pinch of Neoplatonic philosophy and a dab of Swedenborgian theology, then you will realise that this is no mean feat. You will also realise, if you are the betting sort, that A Grain of Sand in Lambeth is not where the clever money would be as a piece of theatre.

And you would be right. As poetry, the rhythm and diction of Blake's work, the visionary call to 'Rouze up, O Young Men of the New Age', can startle and leave you gape mouthed. But as drama? I wonder what people who know little of Blake would make of lines (beautifully articulated by Loughnan) taken from Milton such as 'There is a place where Contrarieties are equally True,/ This place is called Beulah. It is a pleasant lovely Shadow/ Where no dispute can come, because of those who Sleep./ Into this place the Sons and Daughters of Ololon descended/ Weeping for Milton; mute wonder held the Daughters of Beulah,/ Enraptur'd with affection sweet and mild benevolence.' Blimey? Well quite!

These lines from the opening of Book the Second of Milton are an apt demonstration of what is so worthy of praise in Loughnan's brave production and also of what is so wrong. Spoken with the lilt of vision, Lougnan's interpretation of these lines comes down to a moment of deep contemplation, caught on the cusp of life-altering events for Blake: the sojourn at Felpham, his growing frustration with his patron Hayley, the infamous encounter with the soldier Skofield in the cottage garden at Felpham and the consequent trial of Blake on trumped up charges of sedition. In this context the lines quoted above suggest a welcome respite from the pressures of life, an oasis of escape. Actually, in the context of Blake's constantly developing thinking and the always, always present ironic dialectic at work in his writings and engravings (often the illuminations to the work cut right across their textual meanings), these lines from Milton are deeply critical of a selfish apathy, of the political impasse of the age. This is a stuck dialectic and Blake doesn't like it very much. Having no dispute is not a good thing if it is because we are asleep to the world (remember, he opens the Preface by encouraging people to rouse up).

But how to convey the doubleness of these lines whilst also portraying the drama of Blake's life and imparting the force of his gobsmacking poetry? Not easy, and that Loughnan manages to quite naturally intertwine the diverse utterances of Blake's letters with the later prophetic illuminated works and the scatological notebooks poems is a testament to an actor and writer truly devoted to their subject. The movement from the shit and farting jokes of When Kopstock England Defied to the Preface to Milton (known commonly as the hymn 'Jersualem') is deftly accomplished, at once full of Blake's earthy confidence and then his heart-searing passion for a better place, a better world. The problem lies in poetry not being drama. It has also to be said that Blake's poetry is particularly difficult to nail, and Loughnan's occasional reliance on the prompt at the first performance is testimony to this. I would also have liked a little more of the nitty-gritty of everyday life as an artisan engraver to be evident: the labour of the copperplate, the mess of inks and acids, the line out to dry coloured plates.

It doesn't quite work. It is not quite true to life. But I think there is an important lesson here in this quiet, loving and well-worked-through production. If we are to resurrect our poets and put them on film or stage, we should take our cue from what we value most about them: their poetry.

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