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Library member Patricia Wilson Smith writes for us about J.T. Blight – part two

The fascinating and tragic story of J.T. Blight has captured the imagination of writers and artists over many years. Library member Patricia Wilson Smith has written the second instalment of a blog for us about how Blight‘s story has inspired her…

I’m reading A Week at the Lands End, John Blight’s third published work. The copy I hold in my hands was printed in 1861, and it thrills me to handle an early edition. What can it have meant to him, I wonder? As an artist myself, I imagine his excitement at seeing his work in print. 

John Blight  was 26, and had already published a detailed review of the ‘Ancient Crosses and Other Antiquities in the West of Cornwall’ ( 1857 ), followed by a similar treatise for East Cornwall (1858). He was attempting to preserve details of a large part of Cornwall’s history that was in danger of being swept away by a wave of Victorian modernisation.

His little ‘travelogue’, ‘A Week at the Lands End’ clearly had the growing tourist trade in mind, but was crammed with lovingly-detailed engravings of local wildlife and flora, tales of old superstitions, and recommendations for walks, as well as carefully recorded depictions of the sites of interest.

The frontispiece to ‘A Week at the Lands End’ – Could that be JTB, seated behind the couple in the foreground, intently sketching the scene?

Above: ‘The Irish Lady’. Below: ‘The Armed Knight’.

I’ve broadened my research, visiting Kresen Kernow, the Cornwall archive at Redruth, to view two letters from St Lawrence’s Hospital, (formerly Bodmin Asylum): letters replying to an enquiry from a member of the Helston Old Cornwall Society in 1968.  The first letter, dated 5th February 1968 confirms –

‘He was admitted from 16 Morrab Place, Penzance…He was described as single, 32 (sic) years of age, and his occupation was Artist, FSA. Author. The supposed cause of his illness was stated to be overwork and overexcitement about a book he was writing’.

The second letter, one week later, raises an interesting question: 

‘He was admitted on 25th May, 1871, he was classified as a Private Patient and the Form of Guarantee…was for one month only. However, from the correspondence it would appear that interested people or relatives were making arrangements for a further Guarantee of a longer duration…’ 

The ‘Form of Guarantee’ referred to a payment of 16 shillings for board and maintenance not exceeding one month. Whoever the interested parties were, they were successful, and Blight never escaped the confines of the asylum. 

A subsequent visit to the Archive enabled me to view the Order for the Reception of a Private Patient, signed by John Blight’s father on 22 May 1871, before he was to travel by train, accompanied by two attendants, to Bodmin Asylum.  Robert Blight stated that JTB had been ‘getting worse for nearly three years’, that he supposed the cause to be overwork, and that he had ‘lately been using threats of violence’. One wonders what was so disturbing this gentle, refined and talented artist, who was now described as suffering from delusions by the two medical professionals who signed the certificate confirming him to be of unsound mind.

© patricia wilson smith 2025

Library member Patricia Wilson Smith writes for us about J.T. Blight

The fascinating and tragic story of J.T. Blight has captured the imagination of writers and artists over many years. Library member Patricia Wilson Smith writes for us about how Blight‘s story has inspired her…

I’m a visual artist working with both digital and traditional media. I’ve always made short video films as part of my practice, and two years ago I decided to develop my film-making skills, by studying for a Masters Degree in Film Practice. Living in the wilder landscape of West Penwith, I have a great attachment to the moors and coasts, and I discovered the work of John Thomas Blight (1835-1911) through his drawings and engravings of the archaeological sites that I was exploring. I thought his drawings were beautiful, and his ability to record archaeological detail meticulous. In January this year I graduated with Distinction and, with unaccustomed time on my hands, I began to delve into the circumstances of JTB’s life, thinking to make a short experimental moving-image work that embraces certain parts of West Penwith that Blight knew and loved

The Morrab Library has a close connection with JTB. Many of his drawings, paintings, sketchbooks and notebooks are held in the Library archive, as well as copies of his books. I wondered if these might give me an insight into his life, as well as providing rich visual material. I have to thank Lisa Di Tommaso for her advice on books to read and guidance with the archive. My first visit impressed on me the unique value of archives: I was acutely aware of handling delicate and fragile documents and drawings that had been created by JTB nearly 200 years ago. 

Blight’s detailed record of a fogou at Trewoofe (undated)

This little watercolour is in one of JTB’s Bodmin notebooks: it shows the drawing room used by gentleman ‘residents’ at Bodmin Asylum and was made during his first summer there in 1871.

As I learn more about Blight, I discover that his story was complicated, and poignant. He has been written about sympathetically, and the most recent biographical account The Dust of Heroes, (2006) written by Selina Bates and Keith Spurgin painstakingly describes the arc of his life in Penzance, and the circumstances that combined to bring about his incarceration in Bodmin Asylum at the age of 36. 

John Blight’s story has the ingredients of a Victorian tragedy along the lines of Chatterton. But, unlike Chatterton, Blight died in obscurity at the age of 75. Several of his contemporaries who enjoyed public acclaim (James Halliwell, for example, and William Borlase) did so by relying heavily on Blight’s artistic talents, his passion for detail and his wide archaeological knowledge, and it appears that long before his death in 1911, his drawings, engravings and writing found their way into the hands of those who profited from them much more than he was ever able to.