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Scenes from an Artist's Life
Chapter 22
" I taught thy manners-painting strains,
The loves, the ways of simple swains,
Till now o'er all my wide domains
Thy fame extends: And some,
the pride of Coila's plains,
Become thy friends."
BURNS
SIR CHARLES LAMB-I PAINT HIS PORTRAIT-MY FIRST FIVE POUND NOTE-SIR
CHARLES AND THE GAME-THE LATE LORD EGLINTON- LIFE IN EGLINTON CASTLE-
ANECDOTES OF SIR CHARLES LAMB-A JOURNEY TO GREENOCK ON FOOT AND BY
THE JOHN WOOD-THE SUICIDE-MY VANITY REPROVED-BOB LEISHMAN COMFORTS
ME-A DARK SHADE-COMFORT FROM THE DOCTOR-A LIFT ON THE ROAD -AN
ELECTIONEERING ADDRESS TO THE COUNTY.
" NECESSITY is the mother of invention," and without opposition there can be no argument. The
pressure from behind compelling me to go forward, was fraught with higher results than I could
foresee. At the time when I named Rubens and Wilkie's Bagpiper to have the portraits of their
several owners as prizes, I could not foresee that John Faulds, Sir Charles Lamb's gamekeeper at
Auchans, would get the piper as he did; and I painted his portrait. When Sir Charles saw it he
inquired about it, and John gave him its history. Sir Charles said, "When the same individual has
another lottery let me know." John was not long in letting me know; and the next time I came before
the world in the same way, the portrait in addition to the first and second prizes was too good an
idea to let go. When the bills were ready for circulation, the first delivery was at Auchans. It so
happened that when I went down I was informed that Mr Faulds was not in. He was out with Sir
Charles, who was shooting there. I felt that to be somewhat lucky. Sir Charles always took lunch in
Mr Faulds's when there.
I had an audience with Mr Faulds before Sir Charles went in, and Faulds put a few bills on the table.
When Sir Charles entered, he inquired, " What's this, Jock ?" the familiar name by which he always
named him. "It's Hunter getting up another raffle. He who painted that portrait of mine." Before he sat
down to eat he put his hand in his pocket and brought forth one pound, saying, "Jock, give him the
one half and keep the other for yourself for your trouble in going to Kilmarnock." Faulds answered,
"He's a deserving man, and I'll give him the whole, " which he did; and it so happened that Sir Charles
got three paintings, and one of them entitled him to his portrait.
Next morning after the raffle I was on the road to Eglinton Castle with the three paintings and a
canvas for his portrait. He was going to hunt that day; next morning at ten I was to be in waiting in
the large hall, and at home in the castle. I was ready long before the time, and pointed as the clock
he entered, dressed in shepherd tartan trousers, a green plush vest, a red cravat round his neck, an
old velvet coat, with an old hat on his head, a great length of twine rowed round the hat, on which
were a number of hooks, as if for a fishing excursion. He took his seat, and looking in my face
inquired, " Will I do ?" I requested a sight of his head without the hat. He at once uncovered. I said
had he been possessed of a shabby head I should have been glad of the hat, but I should consider
it highly criminal to bury such a head in an old hat. He threw it from him, and with a smile said, "
You know how to put on flattery, but I believe that is part of the profession. Now, you can proceed,
as I will part with no more of my dress. I have worn this old coat for eleven seasons at the shooting,
and I put it on now to show that I do not part readily with an old friend who has been faithful."
I then proposed that while sitting, etiquette be laid aside, so that I might only have the portrait to
think about. " Then," said he, " etiquette's gone, and as I never like to have anything to say to a
man when his work is done, allow me to say before you begin that I have never seen a better
likeness of any man than you have painted of Jock Faulds, but it looks as if he had rather a dirty
face-too much in shade. Now, what I wish you to understand is, I wish my likeness as well
painted as his, and if you could do it as well without the dirt I'd rather; but if it must have the dirt to
give power, then go on. " I said that as Jock had a bonnet on his head, it flung a shadow doun on
the face, and as he was among cover that also secluded him from light, and, moreover, as a
gamekeeper required often to have a forbidding sort of look, I had sought a low tone, and I had often
thought that Faulds had a great deal of the features of Rob Roy in his face. He laughed, and asked
if I had never heard any one give him that name ? I said no. " Do you know, that's the name I gave
him ? He's an honest-looking fellow, Jock, and wears a hardy independence in his expression."
Such was the commencement of the portrait on Wednesday; and on Saturday he said, "You will be
going home to-night." I said yes. " I think," said he, " a man goes far firmer into the presence of his
wife with something in his pocket. Put that in yours." It was a bit of dirty paper; I put it in my
waistcoat pocket, and looking in his face, said, "Whatever it is, I'll endeavour to pocket it with a
good grace. Thank you, Sir Charles."
When I was out of sight of the Castle I was anxious to see the paper. I looked first over one
shoulder, then over the other, and making myself sure I was out of sight, I brought forth the paper
and read, " Pay the bearer on demand the sum of five pounds sterling. " I stared at the paper, and
spelt the word five several times to see if it really were true. It was the first five pound note I ever had
in my possession as my own. I was like Robin Roughhead-I was going to do everything with that
five pound. I folded it carefully up and put it into the same pocket. I held it in; I was afraid the wind
would blow it away. I wished for Nanny, that I might hand it over to her. I felt inclined to tell her all
about the last three days.
In my stupor, I had begun to run without knowing that I was doing so. I felt something wrong with
me. I had to stop. I was out of breath coming up the brae to Dreghorn. I had run about two miles. It
was a joyous sort of delirium. I reached home in safety. The secret of success was too good to
keep.
The patronage of Sir Charles amounted to five large landscapes, five feet by three-and-a-half-two
views of Eglinton Castle, two views at old Auchans, and one at Clochearn, Sir Charles's
shooting-house in the moors beyond Eaglesham. I made a beautiful likeness of him, and he was
pleased with my landscape painting more than any other I have yet met with. His orders were, " I
want the places like, and as to how you produce the effect I care not, even though you should throw
on the paint with a shovel. "
The last time I saw him I had only one of the views of Eglinton Castle finished, when he mentioned
that he was going home to England. I asked him as to how I should dispose of the paintings that
were to be done. He said, " Bring them all to Eglinton Castle and demand your payment from Mr.
Hunter." That was Lord Eglinton's head man in the Castle and an old schoolfellow of my own. I
asked if I would submit the paintings to the judgment of any one about the Castle before demanding
payment. He came forward, laid his right hand on my left shoulder, and looking in my face, said, "
No, Hunter, put your own judgment in them. There is no man shall come between you and I." If ever
a compliment was swallowed full size, it was that one. We looked in each other's face, and he said
good bye.
During the time of his sitting we had much pleasant conversation. One day he remarked, " I believe,
Hunter, when you were a young fellow you were very fond of my hares." I said yes. And they also
seemed to be fond of me, as they came to me whiles. "Were you fond of rabbits also?" To tell you
the truth, Sir Charles, whatever we got our hands on that would eat, was fair game.
That day, when I went out to take a walk on the policies, I met first one, then another, then a third
gamekeeper. Each had a load of rabbits, which, they said, Sir Charles ordered them to bring to me
in the stone room. I was to take them home to the children. Mr Thornton, the cook, thought that I
would carry them easier were they to come through his hands: so he took out the best bits of them
and made them into pies.
Sir Charles asked if ever I ventured to take a hare now ? I said no. The last hare I took was one of
Colonel Crawford's of Newfield. It was coming down to dine with some of Colonel Kelso's hares, and
I intercepted it at the march hedge and took it home to Kilmarnock to dine with my children; and they,
poor things, thought that they were in the best of company while dining on the hare.
The late Lord Eglinton used to visit us every morning while Sir Charles was sitting for his likeness.
He came round to me when he entered and politely inquired, if he were to converse with Sir Charles
for a few minutes would it be any inconvenience to me ? I said no. He then stepped gently back
near to the door, and spoke with Sir Charles on what subjects he was going to answer in writing,
always asking his advice; and it was always the same preface and always the same conclusion on
the part of his lordship. Sir Charles would say, " My Lord, it is your business, and you should know
better than me how to answer, but were it my business I certainly would say or do such and such
things." His lordship always on retiring would say, "Thank you, Sir Charles, I'll away and just do as
you would."
There was always the dignity of cultivated humanity in his lordship's question and answer. One day
when his lordship retired I remarked to Sir Charles, Lord Eglinton seems to want that quality which
Burns pointed out in a lord-
" Yon see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts and stares and a' that."
I said that there was neither strut nor stare, but something of that quality which Burns saw in Lord
Daer, " excessive modesty." "Well," said he, "his lordship in public and private is what you call a
good lad, free from presumption and insolence, everywhere alike."
While I was in the Castle I had full liberty to visit any part of it at pleasure. Sir Charles went through
it with me and introduced me to all those who had charge and gave them notice to that effect. I had
full liberty to go where I chose on the policies. He introduced me to all the keepers as having that
liberty. We went to the garden together. He called Mr Rose the gardener and requested as a favour
that he would allow me to visit the garden at pleasure, which was at once granted. Coming from the
shoemaker's seat to such freedom amid such cultivated beauty and grandeur was a great change,
and as much enjoyed as if it had been my own.
One day Sir Charles said, referring to some past conversation, "You do most of your business on
foot?" I said, " Yes." " You will be sometimes both hungry and weary ? " I said, "Many a time." "Do
you ever pass this way?" " Seldom." " Then one thing I request of you, never pass again either
weary or hungry. Call here and say you have come to eat or rest, or both. Ask food and order your
bed." What was peculiar in Sir Charles, when he gave utterance to such a saying he put it in right
shape. He said, " Come this way:" then going to Mr Thornton, the head cook, he said, "Should ever
Hunter come this way and say he has come to eat, will you be kind enough to let him have food."
Then passing to Mrs Young, the housekeeper, he said, " Should Hunter call at any time and say
that he has come to rest, will you be kind enough to order a bed for him." "Yes, Sir Charles," was
the ready answer in all cases where he offered kindness.
Trade was very dull at the time I was there. One day ten men called or rather waited on the road in
sight of the Castle. Sir Charles looked out of the window and said, " Would you excuse me for a
few minutes? Those men are wishing to see me, and I feel to keep them waiting." He went to
them; all bonnets and hats were off when he went forward to them: he signalled to them to put them
on. All went on but the speaker's. Sir Charles stood listening to them for ten minutes, then putting
his hand in his pocket, handed something to the speaker. Off hats and bonnets again. He convoyed
them down to the gate, bade them good bye and came back. His first question was, " Were you
wearying ?" I said, " No; I was quite pleased to see you give them such a hearing. You gave them a
minute each." "Were you taking notes? Your poet, who knew human nature well, said that
" It soothes poor misery heark'ning to her tale ;"
and as I had nothing to give the poor fellows but a listening, it would have been unmanly to have
withheld it."
Such were a few of the traits of character in high life worthy of the name. This took place before the
famous tournament and before Lord Eglinton was married.
My early friends in Irvine, like all early associations, are deeper rooted in the mind than some
equally as kind at a later time. Malcolm M'Dougall, Mrs Captain James Hamilton, Captain Robert
Clark of the Fleece, and William Balsillie, were early patrons in the portrait speculations in Irvine;
and Andrew Ross, with whom I slept for thirteen months, was a great friend and peculiar
well-wisher.
An extension of friendship is an element to be found in all true friends: each of those were earnest
to hand me on. I had an interview with a Greenock gentleman in Irvine, a cousin of Mr Ross's, with
whom it was arranged that I was to go as far as Greenock and paint his portrait. The convenience
for travelling then was not what it is now. Everything being arranged, my presence was expected in
Greenock by a certain day, and, true to the engagement, I started from Kilmarnock on foot, carrying
a head size canvas below my arm, colours, brushes, and all other sundries. I had to walk to
Renfrew, a distance of twenty-four miles, then stepped on board the John Wood steamboat, and
reached Greenock quay in safety. I then inquired for William Street, and reached the shop of John
M'Ilvain, shoemaker, whose reception was truly of a brotherly cast. That home feeling I had with him
four days, in which time I painted his likeness; and although it rained to such an unceasing and
unprecedented extent in my home experience, that I had no view of Greenock, I felt that I had been
at home in it, and left it a stranger to its beauties with the price arranged for in my pocket and a
premium of five shillings for travelling expenses.
I left in great spirit, and, strange to say, John Wood was again at the quay ready to take me to
Glasgow, where an exhibition of paintings was open to the public and which exhibition I was going
to see. At this time Greenock-was the greatest distance I had been from Kilmarnock.
Having seen a notice in the papers shortly before that time that a passenger named Morrison had
committed suicide by jumping overboard the John Wood, I made inquiry at the mate as to the fact and
the shape of the man. In Kilmarnock we had set it down as the last touch or finish of Barbour
Morrison, but the mate told me that it was an old grey-headed man. That point was settled: it was not
Barbour.
On the way up I often thought what a pity I had not M'Ilvain's portrait in the Glasgow Exhibition. I
had a sort of notion that it would have made a sensation among the public of Glasgow. When we
arrived at the Broomielaw I hurried to Buchanan Street, paid my shilling, and was in the Fine Art
Exhibition. What a change of mind came o'er me on seeing so many pictures, and particularly the
portraits. I thought that every portrait in the large room looked down on me as an impostor; some of
them, I thought, even seemed to laugh at me.
In a short time I grew giddy, then sick, and sat down on a chair opposite the portrait of Mrs Hunter
of Hafton, by J. Graham Gilbert. I looked up at her, and she seemed to sympathise with me. I was
far from home, and had my vanity reproved. I thought if I were once home I would sit down on the
seat and seek a living among the feet of society instead of presumptuously aiming at the head.
I was sitting in this melancholy frame of mind, when I got a gentle slap on the back, and a happy
voice said, " Hunter, what' s wrang wi' ye ? " It was Bob Leishman, portrait painter. I told him all I
had felt and what conclusion I was coming to. He looked lovingly into my face, took me by the
hand, clapped my shoulder, and in one of his merry moods said, " Inspiration ! Inspiration ! My
friend, listen to the voice of inspiration ! Did'nt I see an artist run round like a peerie on the opening
day and fall on the floor there where you sit ? A sight of that portrait looked him to bitterness, and
he felt it. It was inspiration also. He's a clever artist, but he felt his weakness, and you know that's
a first essential before you get power. Come, my friend, cheer up, I have a sixpence in my
waistcoat pocket; so long as you have that you have a bosom friend. Come, friend Hunter, and I'll
decompose my bosom friend to make you all right; a pint and a pipe will not only soothe your
sorrow but make you feel that you are inspired by the present visitation. Come, rouse up; look
things in the face. Try and discover where the power lies in others which has laid you prostrate.
Cheer up, my man, there is not a painting present but he who produced it was at one time far your
inferior. You can take a likeness; that's what some of those great men cannot. They have more art
than nature in them. You have nature. You seek truth, and you'll find it. Cheer up, my son; let us go
round." The first picture we stopt before was a cabinet portrait by the late Thomas Duncan of
Edinburgh. " Come," said Bob, " try and see what's in that but a jibble of asphaltum and a little
colour dexterously interlarded amongst it. Would you think of putting a thing like that out of your
hand ? It is too clever: yet look at its effect, that's the point."
I began to feel daylight coming back. I was seeing and feeling a new road opening to the mind.
" Poetry ! " said Bob; " put in more fable than fact, and some will say you are great."
We went round the exhibition several times. Every time I was getting stronger, and feeling the force
of Bob's argument I looked on him as an inspired artist that day, and every time I met him after.
There was sunshine in his looks. He was a single-hearted jolly creature, whose best parts live in
my mind fresh as when he spoke comfort and called it by the name of " Inspiration ! "
We retired from the exhibition, had the pint and pipe, and I took the moor on foot, blessing Bob.
Many a time has his theory stood my friend in after practice.
I was subject to fits of sadness, though people seemed to think otherwise. I had a strong desire to
conceal what I was like to think was a weakness. One day I was sent for to a house where I had
painted the portrait of an old lady.
I went like one inspired, thinking this would be some other job for the beautiful likeness I had done
of the old lady. Things were not as I had fancied; for on entering the house I was taken into the
room and told in rather pointed language that I must remove that black thing from below
mother's nose, because mother did not snuff, and some ladies had been there, and they said it was
a shame to leave the nose in that state. I made some objections, but all to no purpose. "Clean
mother's nose" was the word. Some person called and was shown into another room. I was left
alone for a little. I thought I should know the voice of the new comer. I heard plain enough what was
saying, and discovered that the very subject about which I had been sent for was the theme of
conversation. I heard one of the ladies say, " Advise him to do what we want; he will do it readier for
you than for us." This was my old friend the Rev. George Barclay from Irvine. " Oh no," said he, " he
kens better than me what to do. Had he ta'en my advice, he would have spoiled mine, and by taking
his own way he has pleased every other person; and that pleases me." I felt as if it were the voice
of the good Samaritan. I was resolving at this moment to give up portraits for ever.
There are states of mind which give a wrong direction to our thoughts, and we are apt at those
times to blame others for all the sour bits of life. In this gloomy state of mind I called on Dr Borland.
The face had indicated the mind, for as soon as he looked at me he said, " What's wrong to-day ? I
never saw you have that glum look before." I told him about the lady's nose and having resolved to
give up portraits. He took a hearty laugh, saying he thought by my face that the wife was dead,
adding, "I did not think that you were so hen-hearted. No, no, there is no necessity to resign
portraits for a trifle like that. What would you do were you in my place sometimes, where I might be
called to see an old woman who was in reality dying, and when she did die some ignorant friends to
report that I had killed her ? The like has happened before now. Whereas the worst thing that they
can say of you is that you have spoiled a canvas by putting snuff below the nose. Before you give it
up you'll paint my portrait and my father and mother's."
Holloway's pills could not have effected so speedy a cure to my afflicted mind as the doctor's
prescription did. I made a new start in the race of life, free from a dead weight. I feel yet that point
brilliant with a hope I had not experienced before.
I began to the Doctor's portrait; it was the first of eleven in the same family. I thought that my work
now had a different tone. It was evident to myself that the mind had.
While the Doctor's mother was sitting for her portrait there was much of family affairs talked over, as
regarded the large family I had; when, without ceremony, she asked if I was owing much debt, what
shape it was, and to whom owing. I could not see any particular reason for such questions, but I
answered her as if I had been bound to do so upon oath. I stated the truth. When all the small
items were named up, I was owing more than I thought. " Now," said she, "it's no' a great deal that
you are owing; it's a trifle compared to what many a one owes me, but it's quite enough to annoy
you. You will observe that although you were owing one person a pound, it's no' onything so ill as if
you were owing twenty folk a shilling a piece. Twa or three o' them might come at the same time
seeking their shilling, na, even the whole of them might come on a Saturday night and every one
might use the same word with propriety: ' It's no sae muckle that you owe me; you might surely
pay a shilling ! ' Every one is thinking for themselves, whereas you could maybe have given two or
three shillings to the person you owed a pound to, and he would be well pleased. Now, if you
please to concentrate your debt, I'm willing to give you a lift. I'll trust you everything you use in the
house that we keep in the shop till you pay off what you are owing, and then you can begin and pay
up your account as you best can."
There was moral philosophy, or economy and retrenchment. I did as she desired, and found it
sound policy. There are many ways of giving a poor man a lift, so long as he is willing to lift along
wi' his neighbour; but when he sits down and seeks a lift, and after he is up wants a carry, he
becomes a hopeless load.
My readers will see that there is no secrecy as to my true position. I have proven humanity to be
good, and enjoyed much real friendship on the past of life's journey, and have full faith in whats to
come. We have to make our friends; and it is our duty to be careful not to let them fall or slip out of
our fingers as if they were china cups.
When I began to the portrait of Thomas Borland, writer, I was calculating on having it finished on a
given day. I had the head chalked out and was commencing to pencil it, when a parcel of papers
came in. He opened the parcel and said, "We must stop. I have to go and canvass the county
What will you do in the interim ? " " What size will the interim be?" I inquired. He said, "A month at
least." " Well," said I, " I'll go and canvass the county also." " Yes," said he; "but you'll not have the
high honour to canvass for a member of Parliament." Mr Borland said, " I must go and write
advertisements." "So will I;" and left moralising like Nicol Jarvie, "that there's mony a slip between
the cup and the lip."
The idea of being a representative of the people haunted me, and I thought I would try an
electioneering address, knowing that the electors would be loudly appealed to in the first paper out.
Then here goes-
TO THE ELECTORS OF AYRSHIRE, AND OTHERS.
Gentlemen,-In coming forward at this time to solicit your suffrages, I beg leave to state that I am
bound to no party, and have no motive in view but what is purely selfish. I have been strongly
supported in Irvine and Kilmarnock; and to show that I appreciate the kindness of those who have
hitherto patronised me, I return them my sincere thanks. I do not intend to be all things to all men,
and will not stoop to flatter any man, or woman either, but boldly ask, Who of you wishes your
likeness pourtrayed on canvas ? Should you be so kind as to employ me, I will endeavour faithfully
to represent to the world what you are like, and on terms extremely moderate.-I have the honour
to be, your obedient servant, J. K. HUNTER, portrait painter, Langland Street, Kilmarnock.
Such was my second advertisement. Seeking notoriety is a weakness. I have felt it much, followed
it much, and always looked the world in the face the same as if I had been doing a duty. I
considered it thoroughly essential that I should be known, and I was earnest to be worthy when
known. My weakness was visible to the world, yet better understood by myself than by them. I
laboured for others, and desire to live in this Retrospect.