STARN: Scots Teaching and Resource Network
Back to Scenes from an Artist's Life contents
Scenes from an Artist's Life
Chapter 18
"Our wee bits o' bairns maun hae duddies to wear
And crowdie and shelter, and a', man;
And wha wadna strain every nerve for his ain
Cares nought for humanity's law,man."
ARCHIBALD M'KAY, Kilmarnock.
DOMESTIC ECONOMY-A KILBARCHAN WIFE-A LESSON IN DIVISION FOR
THE BAIRNS-THE EDUCATION QUESTION-THE NINTH OF AUGUST-
A GRACEFUL GIVER-I TRY TO PLEASE AN ADVISER-ADAM TANNOCK-
JAMES CLARK-MY FIRST SUBSCRIPTION SALE-HUGH BROWN.
ONYBODY wha has a wife and eight weans under eleven years auld, and only twal'
shillings a week to buy a' the necessaries o' life to keep them " tight and right in thack and rape,"
will just hae his ain to do. The like was my lot, and a great lot o'things had to be done without. It
becomes a fine study between a man and his wife when the weans hae a' been put to bed and
sound sleeping, to plan what they want for the morn, what they can really do without, and
what they can get. The potatoes at that time were baith better and cheaper than now, and
what was the regular dinner for our family was the juice o' a penny bone daily, and that the
virtue might be properly extracted, it was hung on the fire the night before, and well boiled down
next day, then plenty of potatoes stoved with the broo made an excellent dinner; and what was
more, there was no respect of persons, all fed alike as to value ; the only difference was in
quantity, the quality being equal.
I was at one time fairly eclipsed by a Kilbarchan weaver's wife. We walked together from
Paisley to Johnstone. She had eight of a family. I was telling her how to manage the bone
soup. " O man," quo she, " I used to do that, but I hae fa'n in tae a better way. I put on the
bone at ten o'clock, and the dinner is ready at twa. Then as soon as the dinner is past, I put on
the bone again and lets it boil awa till next day, and that way I get twa days out o't."
I had a fine sense of dividing sma' things, and taught that among the children. One day Geordie
had been o'er at John Clark's shop an errand, and when he came back I heard Helen
whisper, "Geordie, did ye get onything?" Geordie said, " I got a nit "-(nut). " Ey, Geordie, gie
me a bit o't. " "Ha,"said Geordie, "a nit'll no divide." Here was a chance for illustration. "Oh yes,
Geordie," said I, "a nit will divide; bring it to me." The nut was brought. I lifted the
lapstone, took the hammer, cracked the nut, brought forth the kernel, showed it to the whole
famlily; I had nine at the time. Then taking the cutting board, and laying down the kernel,
with great exactness I cut it into three slices, then cut every slice into three parts. The children
stood in a circle and saw the process. I then employed Geordie to take that bit to the
youngest, and serve one after the other, keeping the biggest bit to the end. I presented it to
Geordie and said, " Noo that you have seen the nit divided and helped to distribute it, there is a
great lump to yoursel' ! " This was an experimental lesson in teaching much omitted in this
country.
I was out in Kilmarnock the end of July last. I had the pleasure of seeing and talking with
Mr Osborne, a teacher whose fame is known wide o'er the world. My heart warmed
to the man when I saw him. Time is ripening his look, as it is doing my own. When I saw
him, thirty-three years flashed back and the pleasing associations of that time came up like
sunshine. When I was coming from Irvine one fine summer afternoon in 1834, I met Mr
Osborne at Thornton Brae taking a walk in company with his father. We entered
into conversation by the way, and took a look at the ways of the world and man's worth in it.
We both agreed that man's worth could be, and ought to be, developed for higher pur-
poses than a state of ignorance. Hence wholesome education was the best fortune a working
man could bestow on his family. This point being carried without discussion or oppo-
sition, " then, " said he, " my advice to you is to act faithfully on this our decision." School
wages was one of the difficulties I had to contend with when the quarter came round. I mentioned
that when I heard first of Robert Owen of New Lanark, I loved the man for an expression he
used "That there should be no ill-fed, ill-clad, uneducated youths; nor ill-fed, ill-clad, uncared-for
old age." Mr Osborne said in a bland, brotherly manner, "Mr Hunter, I can under-stand
your position; and to show you how much I sympa-thise with you, send your children to me,
and I will educate them for you ; they will cost you nothing in the meantime. If ever you are
able to pay, I will take it, ; and if never, then I'll forgive you cheerfully! Recollect that
education cannot be taken away by the world, although it may be misapplied in the world ; but it
is great consolation for a parent to know that he has done his duty in so important a matter." I
sent my children to his school, and he patronised me as an artist. I painted his father's portrait.
While I am writing this notice of a great man the clock strikes nine. It is the 9th of August,
1867. I am reminded by memory that about this moment forty-five years back the late
celebrated Dr M'Kinlay of Kilmarnock was using legal means to declare me a married man.
Little events turn up to tell tales of the past lights and shadows of life. The sunny spots are mine,
the shades being only essential to brighten them. Some individuals make great speeches and
preten- sions to independence. I have never been ashamed of honest poverty, and have never
known anything else. I have proven a higher state of friendship on my way through life than if I
had been independent of it. I have wandered thus far on the road of life, and amid all my trials
one thing affords me pleasure. I have never lifted my voice to grumble at my fate or envy the
position of another, although a man may look sad without being sensible of it.
I recollect once in Kilmamock I was moving up Portland Street, and was thinking on some
distant object, mixed up with home thoughts. My early acquaintance, W. P. Reid, met me,
and, looking earnestly at me, inquired, " What' 's wrong with you this morning; I never saw
you look so serious before?" I awoke out of a sort of reverie and said, " Well, William, I was
just wondering whaur I wad meet wi' some-body that had an auld coat they could spare to mak'
down to yon auld callant o' mine, for he'll soon be fit for fleein'." William gave a look of sympathy,
unadulterated. It seemed as if my speech had touched his heart painfully. " Come in to the shop. I
have an old green coat; it is good cloth and not sore worn. Although the outside is much stained with
paint, the inside is good. Were it turned, it might serve your purpose better than any new cloth you
would buy." William was right, it was good stuff: and is wearing yet. The generous action, so single-
hearted on his part, comes often before me, and that earnest look of his seems to have responded to
mine with the same peculiar force. As he performed the action there was a grace in every motion and
utterance. And when he gave it out of his hand he inquired, " Have you as much as pay the making?"
There is an auld saying, " That them wha get forgets." I have a notion that when anything is given in
a proper spirit it is not so easy to forget it. Burns tells us of a friend who was " skill'd in the secret to
bestow with grace." Without that God-given gift, a man is apt to wound the feelings of him he means
to cheer.
About this time I was getting up some pictures, with a view to dispose of them by lottery. The most
of speculations look best at a distance. I was afraid to come before the public. An acquaintance
called one night and seemed friendly. He offered advice freely, such as, " If I were you, I would
advertise as a portrait painter and put out cards, then the people would patronise you. There is no
use in being backward." I looked his suggestion in the face, and saw truth in it. l employed D. F.
Duncan to engrave a card. " J. K. Hunter, portrait painter, Langland Street, Kilmarnock." It was a
neat card. I put an advertisement into the Kilmarnock Journal, raising my charge as high as TWO
GUINEAS. The same individual who so earnestly advised me to come before the world in this shape
called one night shortly after. He seemed as earnest as he was at first; and after a time he said, "I
saw your card and advertisement lying together in Reid & Dalrymple's window to-day;" and with a
singleness of heart as to a friend, I asked, " How do you like them?" "Well, I read them both, and
thought you a presumptuous blockhead." I thought that this was complimentary to the full. I
remarked, " That is a different sort of speech compared with what you made the last time you were
here." "Man," quo' he, "your friends will soon tire of you, and who will you appeal to then?" "My
enemies, sir," said I, "if I thought that I had any, but I have none that I knou of." I felt convinced that
I had taken a proper step; and I would look upon my friend as a fair specimen of the world, wha if
you try to please, you are sure to be disappointed.
I was on very friendly terms with old Adam Tannock, the father of the artists. I had been often
seeing their gallery and always seemingly welcome. After my advertisement appeared, I was
astonished when meeting Adam in the shop of T. & J. Clark, shoe manufacturers, for whom I
wrought for fifteen years as a shoemaker. Adam used to make children's shoes for sale, and supply
them with the same. He now held up his head when we met as if he had never seen me. James
Clark, observing it as well as myself, said one day, " I thought, Adam, that John and you were
acquaint." "Oh, yes," quo Adam, " I know John." That was all that passed. We came out of the
shop together, when Adam said, stiff and short, " I saw your advertisement, yon's ridiculous, John."
" What's ridiculous, Adam ?" "Advertising to paint portraits for two guineas. It's bringing art into
disgrace." I looked at the old man, for till that moment I thought him something above the common
run of mind, but his unlucky speech brought him to his level. I weighed my retort and made it
courteous. " Adam, I suppose when your son James visited Paisley this time thirty-five years and
painted portraits for two guineas, and next year when he visited Port Glasgow and Greenock and
advertised at three guineas, it neither brought him nor the art into disrespect." Ou aye, John, that's
a different thing." " Yes, it was your son in the first case, and me in the present; but twa guineas is
better paid than making shoon." This I felt to be the veto on going to see the Tannock's Gallery.
How different the feeling of James Clark ! When I told him he said, " Paint awa', Hunter, as lang as
ye can get it. And when you can mak' a shilling mair a week at onythingthan working to me, you are
at liberty to lay down my work, and lift it when you can get nothing else to do." I look back on James
Clark in that simple act of kindness as one ofmy early and best patrons, for although he never
employed me to paint his own portrait he backed me up while painting others.
The desire to come before the world with a raffle was strong. I had five paintings ready, but how
would I be received ? My credit was stopped in one shop at 29s 6d, and in another at 19s 6d.
Something must be done to sweep off such an enormous amount of debt. I had a small full-length
portrait of Shakespeare in the Coffee Room. Peter M'Millan, our honorary member, had painted a
figure of him the same size, and he advertised a raffle of Shakespeare. His boy called on
me to subscribe. When I looked at the sheet I saw sixty-six shares taken by reading-room members,
and this stimulated me to the advertising point. My picture had helped Peter. The world had not seen
his; and the members of the reading room imagined that mine was the poet in whose interest they
were investing. I wrote out a bill, and went down to Robert Neilson's book shop, giving the raffle only
one week to come to issue. Neilson said that it was madness to think of getting as many names so
soon, telling me of one that was far better known than I was, and he could not accomplish his in
a month. I wanted one hundred shillings for my five paintings. One day I was in Neilson's shop
when a stranger entered. He stood, looked at my bill, then enquired at Neilson, "Who wrote that bill?"
"Well," said Neilson, "I think that it was the sowl himsel' !" The man put his hand in his pocket and
brought forth a shilling, laying it down with this remark, " I never have seen so little writing with so
many grammatical blunders in it; and since the 'sowl,' as you say, has done his own work, I'll
patronise him. Had he gone to a schoolmaster and had it done for him, how ever correct, he should
have had no countenance from me." Reader, this was no less a personage than Hugh Brown,
author of The Covenanters and other poems. He is living yet, and his poetry will live after him.
The raffle brought a hundred and twenty-four shillings. It was the first subscription sale which took
place in the Drawing Academy.