was honest and silly. And his last protector seems to have been something very like a swindler.
The name of this benevolent being was Richard Hartley Cromek, a Yorkshireman, and a publisher. He found Blake in bitter poverty after his breach with Hayley (he and his wife lived on 10s. a week), and his method of sweating was of the simplest and most artistic character. He used to go to Blake, tell him that he would give him the engraving of a number of designs; he would easily make Blake talk enthusiastically, show his sketches and so on; then having got the sketches he would go away and give the engraving to somebody else. This annoyed Blake. It is pleasant to reflect that it was about Cromek that the best of his epigrams was written—
"A petty sneaking knave I knew . . .
Oh, Mr. Cromek, how do you do?"
Blake's irritation broke out, as was common with him, not over the clearest but over the most confused case of Cromek's misconduct. The publisher had seen a design by Blake of Chaucer's "Canterbury Pilgrims," and commis-
