charge? The groups and single figures,
on their own basis, abstracted from the
general composition, and considered
without attention to the plan, fre-
quently exhibit those genuine and
unaffected attitudes, those simple graces
which nature and the heart alone can
dictate, and only an eye inspired by
both discover. Every class of artists,
in every stage of their progress and
attainments, from the student to the
finished master, and from the contriver
of ornament to the painter of history,
will here find materials of art, and hints
of improvement.'

In 1809 was published in 12mo.
“A Descriptive Catalogue of [sixteen]
Pictures, Poetical and Historical In-
ventions, painted by William Blake, in
Water Colours, being the Ancient
Method of Fresco Painting restored,
and Drawings for Public Inspection,
and for Sale by Private Contract."
Among these was a design of Chaucer's
Pilgrimage to Canterbury, from which
an etching has been published. Mr.
Blake's last publication was a set of
engravings to illustrate the Book of
Job. To Fuseli's testimonial of his
merit above quoted, it is sufficient to
add, that he has been employed by that
truly admirable judge of art, Sir Thomas
Lawrence; and that the pure-minded
Flaxman pointed him out to an eminent
literary man as a melancholy proof of
English apathy towards the grand, the
philosophic, or the enthusiastically de-
votional painter. Blake has been al-
lowed to exist in a penury which most
artists beings necessarily of a sensi-
tive temperament, · would deem into-
lerable. Pent, with his affectionate
wife, in a close back room in one of the
Strand courts, his bed in one corner,
his meagre dinner in another, a ricketty
table holding his copper-plates in pro-
gress, his colours, books, (among
which his Bible, a Sessi Velutello's
Dante, and Mr. Carey's translation,
were at the top,) his large drawings,
sketches, and MSS.;
-his ancles
frightfully swelled, his chest disordered,
old age striding on, his wants increased,
but not his miserable means and ap-
pliances: even yet was his eye un-
dimmed, the fire of his imagination
unquenched, and the preternatural,
never-resting activity of his mind un-
flagging. He had not merely a calmly
resigned, but a cheerful and mirthful
countenance; in short, he was a living
commentary on Jeremy Taylor's beau-

-

He

tiful chapter on Contentedness.
took no thought for his life, what he
should eat, or what he should drink;
nor yet for his body, what he should
put on; but had a fearless confidence
in that Providence which had given.
him the vast range of the world for his
recreation and delight. He was active
in mind and body, passing from one
occupation to another, without an in-
tervening minute of repose.
Of an ar-
dent, affectionate, and grateful temper,
he was simple in manner and address,
and displayed an inbred courteousness,
of the most agreeable character. At the
age of 66 he commenced the study of
Italian for the sake of reading Dante
in the original, which he accomplished!

William Blake died as he had lived,
piously cheerful; talking calmly, and
finally resigning himself to his eternal
rest, like an infant to its sleep. His
effects are nothing, except some pictures,
copper-plates, and his principal work, a
series of a hundred large Designs from
Dante. His widow is left in a very
forlorn condition, Mr. Blake himself
having latterly been much indebted
for succour and consolation to his friend
Mr. Linnell, the painter. We have no
doubt, but her cause will be taken up
by the distributors of those funds which
are raised for the relief of distressed
artists, and also by the benevolence of
private individuals.
Literary Gazette.

--

and Gentleman's Magazine.

BURNS, Mr. Gilbert, April 8th,
near Haddington. He was born about
the year 1760, and was eighteen months
younger than his brother Robert, Scot-
land's most gifted bard. With him he
was early inured to toil, and rendered
familiar with the hardships of the pea-
sant's lot; like him, too, he was much
subject to occasional depression of
spirits, and, from whatever cause, he had
contracted a similar bend or stoop in
the shoulders; his frame, like that of
Robert, was cast in a manly and sym-
metrical mould. The profile of his
countenance resembled that of his bro-
ther, and their phrenological develop-
ments are said to have been not dissimilar:
the principal disparity lay in the form
and expression of the eye, which, in
Gilbert, was fixed, sagacious, and steady
in Robert, almost always " in a fine
phrenzy rolling."

-

Gilbert Burns was the archetype of
his father, a very remarkable man: his
piety was equally warm and sincere;
and, in all the private relations of life,

as an elder of the church, a husband,
a father, a master, and a friend, he
was pre-eminent. His writings want
that variety, originality, and ease,
which shine so conspicuously, even in
the prose works of the poet; but they
have many redeeming points about
them. His taste was as pure as his
judgment was masculine. He has been
heard to say, that the two most plea-
surable moments of his life were -
first, when he read Mackenzie's story of
La Roche, and secondly, when, Ro-
bert took him apart, at the breakfast or
dinner hour, during harvest, and read
to him, while seated on a barley sheaf,
his MS. copy of the far-famed Cotter's
Saturday Night.

When Robert Burns was invited by
Dr. Blacklock to visit Edinburgh, Gil-
bert was struggling in the unthrifty
farm of Mosgiel, and toiling late and
early to keep a house over the heads of
his aged mother and unprotected sisters.
The poet's success was the first thing
that stemmed the ebbing tide of his
fortunes. On settling with Mr. Creech,
in February 1788, he received, as the
profits of his second publication, about
500l.; and, with that generosity which
formed a part of his nature, he imme-
diately presented Gilbert with nearly
half of his whole wealth. Thus suc-
coured, Gilbert married a Miss Bre-
conridge, and removed to a better farm
at Dinning, in Dumfriesshire. While
there, he was recommended to Lady
Blantyre, whose estates in East Lothian
he subsequently managed for nearly a
quarter of a century. He died at Grant's
Braes, in the neighbourhood of Had-
dington, on one of the Blantyre farms,
on the 8th of April. He had no fixed
complaint; but, for several months
preceding his dissolution, a gradual
decay of nature had been apparent. It
is probable that his death was acceler-
ated by severe domestic afflictions; as,
on the 4th of January he lost a daughter,
who had long been the pride of his
family hearth; and on the 26th of
February following, his youngest son,
a youth of great promise, died at Edin-
burgh, of typhus fever, on the eve of
his being licensed for the ministry.
Mrs. Burns, who brought him a family
of six sons and five daughters, of whom
five sons and one daughter are living,

survives.

It ought to be mentioned that the
2001. which Robert Burns lent to his
brother, in the year 1788, was not re-

paid till 1820. Gilbert was far from
affluent; in early life he had to struggle
even for existence; and, therefore, to
know that his aged mother, and one or
two sisters, were properly supported,
was, in the poet's eyes, a full acquittance
of all claims. The children of Robert
viewed the subject in the same light.
In 1819, Gilbert Burns was invited
by Messrs. Cadell and Davies, to revise
a new edition of his brother's works;
to supply whatever he found wanting,
and correct whatever he thought amiss.
He accepted the invitation; and, by
appending much valuable matter to the
late Dr. Currie's biography, he at once
vindicated his brother's memory from
many aspersions which had been cast
upon it, and established his own credit
as an author. On receiving payment
for his labour, the first thing he did
was to balance accounts, to the uttermost
farthing, with the widow and family
of his deceased brother. The letter
which accompanied the remittance of
the money was, in the highest degree,
creditable to his feelings. Monthly
Magazine.

C.

CAPON, William, Esq. Sept. 26;
suddenly at his house in North Street,
Westminster, aged 70. This able artist
was architectural draughtsman to his
late Royal Highness the Duke of York,
and was formerly an eminent scene-
painter, at the Royal Theatres. He
was a native of Norwich, was born on
the 6th of October, in the year 1757;
and studied portrait-painting under his
father, himself an artist of some merit.
Although Mr. Capon's productions. in
this branch of art gave indication of
great excellence, he felt that the bias of
his mind in favour of architecture
would be an impediment to his arrival
at that perfection in it to which his ar-
dent mind aspired. He was accord-
ingly placed under the care of Michael
Novosielski, a man of great genius, and
architect of the Opera House (of which
he was also scene painter), the New Con-
cert Room (of which he was a principal
proprietor), and many other edifices.
Whilst under this gentleman, for whose
kind and amiable disposition and pro-
fessional abilities he entertained the
highest esteem and admiration, Mr.
Capon assisted in the erection of the

genuine remains, selected on account of
their picturesque beauty. - 7. The
Tower of London, restored to its earlier
state for the play of King Richard the
Third.* The late venerable President
of the Royal Academy used frequently
to honour the artist with a call, and enjoy
these scenes of past ages, the accuracy
and bold execution of which he greatly
commended. Capon, among the other
able artists of the Theatre, formed a dis-
tinct feature, like the black-letter class of
a library. Such, with some modern
views, were the first works he executed
for the new theatre."

In addition to those noticed by Mr.
Boaden, we will just enumerate two or
three others as possessing uncommon
merit. In "Jane Shore was a scene
of the Council Chamber of Crosby-
house, a correct and beautiful restoration
of the original state of that apartment,
as far at least as existing documents
would warrant. The explorations and
drawings combined in this beautiful
scene were made in the year 1794. In
his State Chamber of the time of Ed-
ward the Third, he introduced the ta-
pestry hangings of the walls, and two
magnificent chairs copied from that ve-
nerable specimen of the age of Edward
the First, the Coronation chair in West-
minster Abbey. That chair, though
now in a most wretched state, has been
highly adorned by gilding and enamel-
ing, and on the back was a regal figure
sitting (with other ornaments, &c.),
some remains of which may yet be
traced. The figures introduced by Mr.
Capon on his chairs were those of Ed-
ward the First, from his statue and
bust still in existence, and his Queen
Eleanor, from her brass. He also pro-
duced a Baronial Hall of the time of
Edw. IV. with a correct music gallery
and screen; and a Tudor Hall of the
time of Henry the Seventh. The painted
glass which he introduced into the
vaulted chamber of the period of Henry
VI. was copied by him, from the win-
dows of an ancient church in Kent.
All these scenes are interesting as mat-

It was Mr. Capon's object to make
the view correspond as nearly as possible
with the æra of the play. The ancient
Jewel-house is introduced as it was in
the time of Elizabeth, and the windows
of the Keep are restored from remains
of similar architecture.

ters of historic interest, and therefore
here noticed.

From this time the friendship between
Mr. Kemble and Mr. Capon became of
a more intimate kind; and, besides the
employment which he derived from it,
Mr. Capon found himself closely con-
nected with most of the distinguished
characters of dramatic literature, and
theatric celebrity, and was frequently
consulted by his great patron on the
costume which should be adopted in the
attiring of Shakspeare's characters. In
this he was able materially to assist his
friend, for so close had been his investi-
gation of the remains of ancient art, and
so wonderful were the powers of his
memory in retaining dates and localities,
that he could immediately furnish par-
ticulars and corroborative proofs.

--

Of Mr. Kemble we have heard him
speak in terms alike honourable to him-
self and the party who so highly deserved
it; and in his collection is a most ex-
quisite enamel of a man whom he cha
racterised as "the great, the good, and
the amiable," the gift, we believe, of
another highly valued friend, H. Bone,
Esq. enamelist to the King. Upon this
portrait he used to delight to dwell, and
whenever its merits elicited the admira-
tion of his friends, he never failed to
call their attention to the shining abili.
ties, disinterested friendship, and truly
Christian virtues of the original.

Mr. Capon's warmth continued till
his own decease, strongly asserting that
Kemble was the greatest tragedian that
ever appeared on the English stage, and,
like too many of the older school, enter-
taining some prejudices against the
present luminaries of the dramatic he-
misphere. Yet this feeling is consonant
with human nature, for we experience
the greatest delight when our minds are
young and ardent; and we always en-
tertain a remembrance of the vivid
pleasures we then experienced, when
compared with the more tranquil enjoy.
ments of after-life.

Amongst many other paintings exe-
cuted by Mr. Capon for Mr. Kemble,
were two magnificent interior views of
Drury Lane and Covent Garden theatres,
for one of which the artist received 100
guineas, and for the other 100%. Mr.
Kemble, on leaving England for Lau-
sanne, where he died, not wishing these
two subjects to be put up to public auc-
tion with the rest of his collection of
drawings, prints, &c. offered them to
Mr. Capon for half the sum which he

paid for them. This was cheerfully ac-
ceded to, and they once more adorned
his portfolios; but, soon afterwards, an-
other purchaser for them was found,
but fortune, or, perhaps, misfortune
it might more properly be called, again
placed these beautiful productions in
his hands, and he possessed them at the
period of his decease.

His connection with Drury Lane
theatre ended, indeed, unfortunately;
the distresses of that house inflicting
upon him a loss of upwards of five hun-
dred pounds, a sum too great for an
artist, labouring as well to acquire a
livelihood as a reputation, to lose. This,
with many other losses, at times weighed
heavily upon his mind. At a time, too,
when he was certain of never receiving
the honest reward of his duties, the po-
litical Sheridan-whose insidious flat-
teries seldom failed him in the most
trying emergencies- met him in St.
James's Park, and, complimenting him,
in his artful manner, on the excellencies
́of the last scenes he had executed, ex-
claimed, "You are, my dear Capon,
the very man we want to get up our
house; we want a scene to which no
one can do justice but yourself." Mr.
Capon had too much penetration and
honesty in his character to be thus over-
come: he therefore replied, "I thank
you, Sir, for your fine speeches; but I
would rather have the money for what
I have done." The fire at length settled
the business; the scenes were destroyed,
and he lost his money.

He also painted many scenes for the
present Covent Garden Theatre, of much
beauty and fidelity, under the patronage
of his friend John Kemble. Several of
them are still used, whenever the ma-
nagers think the public will endure the
performance of one of Shakspeare's
plays.

Quitting his scenic engagements, it
becomes a duty to mention one or two
anecdotes of his architectural and anti-
quarian career. Always active with his
pencil, he made a practice of perpetuat-
ing the memory of every thing which he
observed that was either beautiful, novel,
or curious. Thus was he enabled to
form beautiful compositions, and pre-
serve representations, to which he affix-
ed what particulars he had obtained re-
specting them, of many hundreds of the
most curious remains of religious, civil,
and domestic architecture in the metro-
polis, &c. and sketches of some of the
finest specimens of grand and rural

-

scenery in Kent, Surrey, Middlesex, &c.
But it was to the illustration of the an-
cient state of Westminster, and the com-
memoration of such of its antiquities as
were removed by successive alterations
-that his labours were chiefly directed.
Not an ancient street suffered demoli-
tion, at the time of the great improve-
ments so judiciously suggested by Lord
Colchester, but of which Mr. Capon had
previously secured for himself-and let
us hope for the public-accurate draw-
ings and admeasurements of the minutest
matters. But his most memorable
works, and which will always be lasting
records of his indefatigable research and
enthusiasm, are his plans of the Old
Palace at Westminster, and the ancient
substructure of the Abbey. The exe-
cution of these plans occupied his leisure
hours for upwards of thirty years, and
in pursuing them within some of the
cold vaults of the Abbey, we feel per-
suaded he met with that death which his
friends so sincerely deplore.

This he was endeavouring to com-
plete for the inspection of the Society of
Antiquaries, during the approaching
session. In the prosecution of it, the
present Dean of Westminster most
kindly afforded him every facility, and
indeed Mr. Capon always expressed
himself as under considerable obligations
to the Dean for the very flattering in-
terest and attention he invariably mani-
fested in all his undertakings.

Like his friend John Carter, he was
an enthusiastic admirer of the pointed
style, and though by no means bigoted,
as was the case with poor Mr. Carter,
he strongly opposed every endeavour to
deteriorate its excellencies or to destroy
its remains. No man, perhaps, knew
better how to appreciate the talents and
the genius of Carter than he did, yet he
was not blind to his defects. It was their
custom to investigate the remains of the
Palace and the Abbey together, and the
rapidity and consequent inaccuracy with
which Carter made his measurements,
was always a pain to Mr. Capon, who
deservedly prided himself upon his ge-
neral accuracy, particularly in those de-
tails which are of the greatest importance
to professional men. Were it at all ne-
cessary, the writer could add his feeble
testimony to the fidelity of his drawings
and his admeasurements, having accom-
panied and assisted him in his investi-
gations for the plan of the Old Palace
previously noticed, which, in June 1826,
he disposed of to the Society of Antiqua-