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Scenes from an Artist's Life
Chapter 29
" If all the countries in the world were put into a bag, rumbled, tumbled, and tossed to and fro, there is not one of them equal to ould Ireland for generosity, hospitality, good manners, and the best of whisky "
AN ANCIENT CRONY DISCOVERED-SIR EDWARD COEY-MY COUNTERPART- THE FRIEND
SILENCED-IRISH CHILDREN-BELFAST POLICEMEN-THE BATTLE-LORD BELFAST AND THE
COBBLER- THE LONG-LEGGED CHAP REVEALS HIMSELF-PREACHING PEGGY
TODD-UNAPPRECIATIVE AYR-AN ARTISTIC PATRON-GETTING UP A SOIREE-TOUCHING-UP
DAY-THE OLD MILL AND MYSELF-THE PICTURE RIGHTLY PLACED.
FOR the edification of Irish artists, I took my own head along with me-that is, the portrait which I
had at London. I left it in the shop of Mr Robert Gaffikin, gilder. I went up to Armagh on the day that
I arrived, and came back to Belfast next day. I was invited to supper by Mr Coats. He had Mr
James Coey, shoemaker, and Mr Gaffikin as guests. Mr Coats was a jolly, good-looking,
great-hearted man. He said that he never could divest himself of the idea that I was the nephew he
had expected. They had corresponded long. He had done business for him, yet never had seen
him. "Now," said he, "Hunter, you just take his place." To give me a start in Belfast, he would have
his portrait painted. Mr Gaffikin said that he had a visit from the fine art connoisseurs of Belfast, and
that Mr Francis M'Cracken had left a note for me to call on him next day at five P. M.
We had an agreeable meeting in Mr Coats's that night. Mr James Coey asked if I was the same
Hunter who used to be in Kilmarnock, with whom he was acquainted in 1820. I was the same; and
here was yet the light-hearted, jolly Jamie Coey, who used to take his Monday and his dram in
company with John Ingles, or English, so many years before.
The two were as great as ever brothers were, and often did Jamie inform us that he came to
Kilmarnock only to see how they went to work in getting up their shoes. He wrought for Mathew
Strang; and although Mathew was a right good manufacturer, Jamie saw where he could improve a
bit on him. This crack of Jamie's we took as wind. However, he went away home; and commenced
business on his own account. Jamie was a handy workman, and extremely lively. He was a lovable,
open-hearted, guileless Irishman. Malcolm M'Cracken, who was a boot-closer, had a mind to start
for himself also; so Jamie and he sat down together. Malcolm closed, and Jamie made the feet,
and for a while the two wrought to each other's hands. Their trade increased, and they separated to
begin each on his own account.
James Coey started business and extended it in Belfast. He had his brother as a partner. Their
trade at one time was equal to the whole manufacturing power of Kilmarnock. This brother wished
to be clear of the shoe trade, and sold out. He went to America, and, as James said, " got a smell
of the ham trade," and came home to Belfast, establishing a ham-preserving business there; and at
this day he is Sir Edward Coey. James was less fortunate, in a financial point of view. The shoe
trade went down, and ceased to be profitable. He was the tastiest manufacturer I have ever looked
on; everything went like clockwork. He invited me to his house. I dined with him every Sunday till
Nannie came across to stay with me, and for ten mornings I was at breakfast with him. He said that
he could not suffer the idea of a man sitting eating alone. He sat to me twice for his portrait: one to
keep, and one to give away. He asked me if I had a ticket for the Botanic Gardens; and on my
saying no, he handed me one. He gave me the use of his seat in church, if I chose to hear Dr
Cooke.
The first Sabbath that we went to the Botanic Gardens together, he said, on starting, " Well,
shopmate, I never think of taking a staff in my hand except on Sunday; and here is one for you. It is
a bit of a branch of a cork tree. The bark, you observe, is cork. I bought it in Dublin, when I was
seeing the Exhibition. It came on a tremendous thunder shower, and I ran into a shop where they
sold sticks, and, as it were to pay my lodging, I gave a young girl eightpence for that one." Having
got the history of the stick, we started, and had a fine survey of the beauties of the garden. James
was quite conversant with the objects of interest. The head gardener was an Ayrshire man, to whom
I was introduced. When we came home, I was going to put the stick into a stand among others of
its kind, but while in the act, James said, " Hold on a little. Now, Hunter, I was observing how easily
you handled the stick while you were in the gardens, and on the way home. It looked so much a
part of yourself, that I have resolved to make you a present of it; and, in giving it into your hand, I
have only to say that it has a strong resemblance to yourself. It has a rough outside, but an
excellent heart. So accept of it at my hand, and when you look upon it in old Scotland, remember
me." I have been faithful to his desire, and a sight of that stick does me good. I feel as if I had yet a
living friend in it.
I called on Mr M'Cracken and had an agreeable conversation with him. He invited me to dine with
him next day, when he had seven of the art fanciers of the town at dinner. This was another act of
kindness paid to a stranger, which, among other things, gave Ireland a hold on my affections not
yet dead.
Mr Owden sent for me one day. He was one of the Friends, and a friendly man to me. When I
waited on him at his house, his welcome was open, and his purpose unfolded at once. He said, "I
have been talking of having my likeness taken for the last seven years; and when I saw the portrait
of Mr Coats in the shop of Mr Glaffikin, it silenced me, and I sent for thee." This was on Friday.
Monday morning was appointed as the time to start the first sitting. Breakfast at nine; then
commence. Messrs Cowan and Reid, at White Abbey, were patrons also. I was very much struck
with the politeness of the Irish children. They seemed to be trained to respect men and women. Mr
Cowan had two little boys, and Mrs Cowan had her views of giving them the power and will to do
good. Every day she would say to them, " Now, boys, go and gather a nice flower for Mr Hunter to carry home
to his wife, and take the basket and go out to the garden and pull a specimen of every kind of ripe fruit you can
reach; don't break any bush or tree. Pull nothing but what is ripe, and bring variety." The boys with
pleasure did as they were bidden. I generally had flowers in one hand and the basket in the other,
and never passed fewer than five hundred children on my way home with fruit and flowers exposed,
yet never once did a child say, " Give me one."
Belfast was the first place where I saw the horse have an advocate for his rights in the human
family. When a horse and car came on to the stand, both horse and car were subjected to a
scrutiny. The horse's knees were looked to, the harness was tested as to whether it was injuring
the animal, the brechan was lifted and the shoulders examined, and then the mouth. If the mouth
was wriggled or had suffered ill-usage the driver was handed over to the police; and if any sore place
was visible, off the stand and to the veterinary surgeon. This to me had something the appearance
of humane treatment to the horses.
The policemen had somewhat the air of magistrates in their behaviour. One day, at Donegal Quay,
while a car was standing unemployed, another car was driven furiously against it, which shook the
horse, nearly upset the car, and roused the driver to resent the injury by flogging the aggressor with
his whip. The aggressor, in his turn, retaliated and flogged back. This being too much of a trifle,
they turned the handles of their whips, rolling the thong round their hands, and with a few tight
smites at and on each other, broke both shafts at once. The next step was a set-too with the fists.
The injured man, who was the heaviest, had the luck to give the first knock down. I stood beside a
stout policeman, who, I wondered, had not as yet interfered. His time had now come. He stepped
forward before the upset transgressor had time to come to the scratch, and, touching the shoulder
of the stoutest man, while he looked into the face of the other, said, " Gentlemen, if you do not give
it up, I will be obliged to interfere." This was done quietly, and each man went to his horse, and all
was harmony as before.
I passed a summer in Belfast, and came home at Hallowe'en. Next year there was an exhibition of
fine art in Belfast. I sent a small portrait of myself. I thought that it was an intellectual specimen. I
had no proper frame for it but a small slip, and it had a low place on the wall. I had a notice sent
from an acquaintance that he considered it the finest little portrait in the place, and thought that it
had a right to be higher. He sent me a catalogue, in which I saw that the portrait of Lord Belfast was
within four of it in the catalogue. I knew that his lordship and I must be near neighbours, and said
within myself, " I think I may make my head be looked up to before the exhibition closes." I waited
on the Irish papers every night in the Glassford Street reading rooms, but never a word did they
contain about paintings: all that seemed worth their notice were lectures by Lord Belfast-lectures
on art and poetry, for the benefit of the working-man. His lordship was going to erect a reading room
in Belfast for the working men, and he intended to raise the same by subscription. Some of his
lectures were reported full length, and I was much taken by the manliness of his mind, so I resolved
to offer my head to him as a present. I wrote to his lordship stating my approval of his conduct,
letting him see that even in Scotland eyes were upon him. I commended some points in his
lectures on the poets, where I thought that he did some of them more justice than I had seen them
get at home. When I found him among the poets, and working as he was doing for the
working-man, it destroyed distance, distinction, titles, and trumpery, and I approached his lordship
as a brother, perhaps presumptuously; if so, I could not help it. Hence I made to him a present of
my head in the Belfast exhibition as a mark of respect and as an evidence of my having laboured to
live and rise in art. I showed him the power of my pastime in early life. His lordship's letter will best
show how he received the present:-
Malone House, Belfast, 25th March, 1852.
SIR,-Your letter and its contents moved me first with surprise and then with real emotion. A tribute so
gratifying, and coming from so eexactly the very quarter from which, of all others, it would be so infinitely the
most gratifying to me, could not fail to be as flattering as it is encouraging.
I do not speak without knowledge in praising the intrinsic value of your gift: it would be precious to
me even without the merit it possesses, for I had remarked the picture the day before, and one of
the tradesmen of the town seeing me observe it with attention came up and volunteered to me the
story of its artist; and the strange coincidence that on that very day you should have been writing to
me to offer me the portrait, is one of those phenomena which cannot fail to strike the observer of
nature's wonders and her secrets.
In fine, then, I heartily accept your gift, and shall value it on account of its double merit; and my
descendants shall know how it came to me, for I shall, with pardonable vanity, have your letter
attached to the back of the picture. With renewed thanks, and with a request that you will consider
yourself to hold in my esteem that place which is due to one who has so raised the dignity of
labour,
I remain,
Sir,
Your much obliged and deeply gratified
BELFAST.
A particular friend of mine wrote for a copy of the letters, and they soon passed through the Irish,
English, and Scotch papers, headed " Lord Belfast and the Cobbler." My portrait had more admirers
after that. A proposal was set on foot, and, had his lordship lived, would have been carried out, that
his lordship's portrait should be painted by The Cobbler, and paid for by a penny subscription by the
working men of Belfast. His lordship died at Nice not long after this, which closed all hopes
connected with earthly honours or rewards. He has a monument in this Retrospect.
I had a warm friend and patron in the person of A. C. Colville, a native of Kilmarnock. I had a studio
in his premises, adjacent to his office.
When I first went to Belfast, I was purposing to write home, and went into a stationer's shop for
paper. The man at once said, " You are from Scotland. What place ? " I said, " Glasgow." " I am
from Edinburgh," said he. We conversed freely on home matters; and after a little he said, " I was
ten years in Kilmarnock." How I looked at him then ! I thought that he took on a new shape. It has a
curious magic, when far frae hame, the name of Kilmarnock -a world of wonders lie hid in it. I
could not say I had ever seen the man before. He had certainly changed. I said that I had been in
the place often, and knew a number of people in it. He named a great number of public men, and
some of the worthies. I knew them all as well as he. I was acquaint with all the corners of the town.
He said that very few people merely visiting a place knew as well about it as I did. I asked what he
did in Kilmarnock. He said he worked as a bookbinder with Robert Nelson. I knew Robert. He held
his memory in high esteem. Every peculiarity of Nelson I seemed to know as well as he, who had
been ten years in his service. He did not know that I had been personally acquaint with him for
twice ten. Among other things, he said that Nelson had a portrait he should like to have, in
remembrance of him. I asked who painted it. He said it was a shoemaker of the name of Hunter. I
was beginning to think that he was finding me out. I asked him if it was not Fleming. No, no; it was
Hunter. It was painted up the Gas Brae at Morton's Corner. He had been up often during the time it
was a painting, and it was a fine likeness. Mr Nelson was represented with a library of books in the
background, and his greatcoat on. I said, "Are you sure that you knew Hunter ?" " Knew him," said
he, " I was in the habit of seeing him every day. He was a tall, lank, yellow-skinned chap, always in
a hurry. He ran his errands on the street like a callant. Man," quo he, " I would like to see him, for
auld lang syne. Maybe he would be able to tell me what came of Nelson's portrait." I said that
Hunter was in Belfast at present; " but," said I, "you would not know him." " Man, it is impossible I
could ever forget yon man. I think I see him yet." Said I, " He is as stout as I am." " Oh, then," said
he, " it is not the same man." On this I told him that I was the same lang-legged chap wha he had
seen painting his employer's portrait, but I did not know where it had gone. The auld fire kindled,
and the shop of William Johnstone had a smell of Kilmarnock ever after. Those little specks give point to life.
When I was in Armagh, Mr Cole gave two teaparties to his friends in honour of having a Scotch
friend with him. He was a rare old piece of uprightness, and was an elder in the church. On both
occasions his minister was of the party. He was a hearty young man, and was making a good deal
of inquiry as to church affairs at home. I was not much inclined to treat a public company to my
simplicity, but he was very anxious to know to what body I belonged. I said, " To the Christian
Brethren. " He had never heard of such a body. He enquired who was our minister. To which I
replied, " Whoever was readiest to preach. We pay none, and are composed of tradesmen, tailors,
shoemakers, colliers, bookhawkers," & c. He said that he should like to hear a shoemaker or tailor
preach on Sunday after working his week's work. I said it was a proper desire and its gratification
might not only astonish him but do him good. I added, "I do not know how people in this country
look upon preaching, but it is looked on in our country as easy of access to people who are in
earnest. When I was last in Kilmarnock (that is the place in Scotland where I come from), I was
passing a place called Ladeside one day, when I heard one woman hail another to ask if she could
recommend a person to give her a day's washing. ' Oh, aye, woman, you might get Peggy Tod.'
'But is she guid o't ?' ' Guid o't ! I can tell you, I had her last week and she washed a big washing to
me, and did it weel, and forbye, she preached as muckle the time o't as Mr Morison did yesterday,
and a' for a shillin'.' So you observe to whom the power of preaching is entrusted and the price paid
for it." It satisfied not only the clergyman but the company that we in Scotland were in advance of
them.
So much did I love Ireland and the Irish that, had it not been for dividing my family at the time, I
could have staid among them. The wife shed tears when she left it. It had more a home feeling to
her than Glasgow; and, as she herself remarked, there were not so many Irish in Belfast as there
were in Glasgow.
I showed the gentry of Ayr my portrait; it was in the shop of Elliott and Curdie. I advertised to the
gentry that I had prepared myself for their acceptance, but met with no response There seemed a
silence about the place, as if it only lived in poetry as a place for " honest men and bonnie lassies."
In my early start as an artist, when I was in Irvine, I was invited over to Ayr by a Mr Rollo, a
preacher, to see his father, the Honourable Roger Rollo. I called on the old gentleman, was well
received by him, and was to come back some other time and bring a specimen of my work, and if
he could approve of it, he would not only patronise me himself, but introduce me to his friends, who
were not few. I was informed by him that he was an artist, and he showed me his paintings, which I
was bound to see beauties in, as he showed a warm and generous heart. I had walked from Irvine
to see him, and remained with him for two hours. After my journey he inquired if I would take a
glass of wine. I said, "With pleasure." He asked what kind I preferred; I said that as I was not
skilled in wines, I would thank him for the best. " I'll give you a glass of hock." I got it and put it in
my mouth " What do you think of that ?" he-asked. " I think that it will be lonely. If you please, I'll
take another glass to keep it company." "Oh, yes, by all means." We parted, and he left a good
impression on my mind by the fluency and honesty of his offer of friendship.
In looking up scenes from out the past, it is curious how a small trifle sets other thoughts in motion.
The coming men have fresh thoughts, hence we have progress. One night during the exhibition in
Glasgow in 1846, Mr Robert Harvey, engineer, came forward laughing, as I stood in the centre of
the exhibition room in the Arcade. He said, " I have been often thinking of the failure of the artists'
speeches at the great dinner given to the Academicians last year. What would you think of the
amateurs getting up a soiree and trying their powers at talking about art ?" I thought it would be
advisable; and to get it up would be an easy matter. We first agreed that there should be a soiree,
and that the ticket should be one shilling. We then halved the house, and going forward to the first artists of
the class, inquired, "What of this artistic soiree?" Strange that none of them had ever heard a word of it ! I
informed my portion that perhaps Mr Harvey would be able to give us some light on the subject; while he, on
the other hand, referred them to me. We met in a short time in the middle of the room where we last parted,
and were now eleven strong. Every one seemed to feel the propriety of such a meeting. The Fine Art
Conversazione members were willing to act as a committee, and in a week the soiree came
off-William Wighton in the chair, and Mr Harvey, croupier. Forty-one artists and their friends were
present. It was truly a social meeting, and the speakers did honour to the coming men. They
seemed to see farther into futurity, and farther back among the Greeks, than the finished artists.
The present day had shape with them; and, as in the midst of art moonshine, they spent a happy
night.
Next season the spirit of the soiree was enlarged, and a meeting of one hundred and twenty sat
down to tea. We were honoured with the presence of seven of the West of Scotland Academicians,
some of whom took part in the talking department. Among them was Andrew Donaldson, who was
asked to say something to the coming men. He declared himself no speaker, yet he could not
refuse to say something when requested. The time chosen for the soiree was a proper time, as
they had paintings on view in the exhibition; and he thought that they could not do better than name
something in connection with art, as seen there. What was referred to at the meeting could be
examined again at the exhibition, and the mind of one might lift the rest to new thoughts on art. In
the present exhibition, there was a picture he would bring before their notice. He was there on what
was termed the touching-up day. Some artists were busy doing what ought to have been done in
their studios. He had no sympathy with those who brought unfinished pictures to the exhibition.
There was an artist in the room who had a picture on the wall, and it was well up. He had a pair of
steps by which he ascended and endeavoured to give to his picture what it wanted. The picture he
was going to refer to was finished before it was brought from the artist's home, and it was the only
picture he ever saw in Glasgow which produced an itch in his soles to rise higher than the floor to
see how it was produced. As the steps happened to be in the vicinity of this picture, he desired
liberty from the artist who was using them, to have them for a few minutes. " Now, gentleman, I am
not very surefooted at the best, and I may almost say that I went up those steps at the risk of.my
life; but I can tell you I did not grudge my climbing, for if I was pleased from the floor, I was
delighted when I came face to face with the portrait. When I turned round to come down, I saw the
individual who painted it, looking it full in the face; not taking a peep and pretending that he was
looking at something else. I remarked to him that I admired that production of his very much. ' So
do I,' he as candidly replied. ' I can assure you that it has taken me a great deal of trouble to get up
this length to see it.' ' It took me more trouble to prepare it for coming there,' said he. ' I hope, sir,
that the public of Glasgow patronise you as you deserve,' said I. ' Well,' said he, ' I think they do. I
made two pair of boots to-day for Doctor Forbes' boys.' ' In the name of goodness,' thinks I, ' is a
man who understands art up to that power left among the feet of society.' After coming down and
entering into conversation with him, I said, ' Now, Mr Hunter, if you would give us something else
than yourself, I think that it would be better.' He soon shut my mouth by saying, ' Mr Donaldson, I
will consider myself out of place when I say to you that you might give us something else than an
old mill, for I believe that a catalogue could not be turned up wherever you have exhibited, but there
will appear " Old Mill, Andrew Donaldson." You show what you know of art on your old mill, and I
show on myself what I know. I have told a new story every time. I am seeking patronage, and I put
people that they cannot speak past me, Who is he, and Who did it ? It was himsel' ! "
So ends the history of the greatest effort I ever made to convince the world I was an artist. I have
had offers of patronage since I painted that head, of forty-two shillings,were I to paint a head that would hang
beside Graham Gilbert's.
I painted a small portrait of Nannie, which I offered for exhibition one year when Wallace was one of
the Hanging Committee. It was rejected. It was beautifully framed. I felt indignant at such treatment.
I called it "The Cobbler's Queen." Some said the title was objectionable. The fools forgot that the
cobblers had a king, and had as good a right to a queen. I took it back five years after, when D. M.
M'Kenzie was in the committee, along with Tavernor Knott. They asked when I took it in where I
wanted it hung. I said, "Between Graham and M'Nee." They did so. I did not need to blush, neither
did they; and I respect them both for their manliness in daring to do justice. I asked the position as
a right; I never sneaked for favour.