STARN: Scots Teaching and Resource Network
Back to Scenes from an Artist's Life contents
Scenes from an Artist's Life
Chapter 26
" I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought,
For man is a sodger, and life is a faught."
BURNS.
GLASGOW REACHED-A JOB LOT-I PAINT THE COBBLER-THE CRITIC
ANSWERED-A NEW ATTITUDE-IN THE EXHIBITION-A BOWL OF
CAULD PARRITCH-TOM PAINE IN JEOPARDY-THE PORTRAIT CONVERSES WITH
THE ARTIST-THE ADVERTISEMENT
-THE COBBLER BEYOND HIS LAST---THE CITY PORTRAIT OF THE QUEEN-THE DINNER
-THE POSTURE.
ARRIVING in Glasgow with my family in the worst season of the year for art patronage, I
commenced to make and mend boots and shoes. I called one day on my auld friend John M'Kean,
a native of Kilmarnock. He, like myself, had enough to do, yet he said that he would like to be my
first patron after coming to town. I got his order for three portraits, what John called a job
lot-himself, his wife, and her mother, for which I got three pound. It was great in him, and great to
me. John stands in memory as one of my great patrons !
Summer went past, and winter was on, and nothing doing in art. I had retired from canvassing since
I had my home in Glasgow. I had allowed myself to fall out of circulation, as it were. I resolved that
as I had lost way in the art world for the sake of making boots, I would paint my portrait as the
cobbler, and astonish the world once more. I set to work, and was not long till I had the
representative man ready. He was seated in a conversational attitude; or rather as holding forth,
making a supposed appeal for patronage. I took him up to the Tontine Reading-room at the Cross of
Glasgow, and while there he was " the admired of all admirers." He was much liked and well
spoken of. I was up one day, when a particular nice gentleman was looking at him, and after
weighing him well, like a jackdaw setting his head first to the one side then to the other, his first
question was, " Why have you chosen that attitude ?" I answered that it was conversational.
"Would any other attitude not have done as well ?" enquired the great man. " O yes," said I, "ony
way will do." "Well, what would you mean to infer from the attitude you have selected ?" " I would
infer, sir, that he is seated at his ease, resting on his last, arrayed in his robes of independence,
and so long as he can keep that seat, he has no need to beg frail humanity to allow him to practice
on their beggarly heads. "
The portrait was without the coat, had the shirt sleeves rowed up, the apron on, and a last in his
lap, on which his eloquent elbow rested, while the hand was poised, and pointing out-ward,
enforcing some daring declaration.
Mr Buchanan was keeper of the coffee room at the time. He said to me one day, " Hunter, the best
thing that you'll do with that portrait of yours is to raffle it. They say that the greatest of wonders
only last nine days. The run after your portrait has lasted longer. There is not a reader in the room
but has brought friends to see it, and some have brought their whole families. Rafffle it, make the
stake half-a-crown; and I'll sell tickets for you; tak' it when the tid is on the folk, for really instead of
the visitors ceasing they are increasing. "
I did as I was advised; and if I got a certain sum the winner of my portrait was to have his own to the
bargain. I had a fine bold old frame on the Cobbler, which at one time was on a painting of "The
Collection Plate," by George Harvey-now Sir George. The sale went on, and twelve pounds
seventeen and sixpence came out of the speculation I thanked Mr Buchanan for the hint he gave
me, for the trouble he took, and with the issue I was more than gratified. I had a son died the day
before the raffle came to issue, and the wants were supplied to the full. If Mr Buchanan lives, it may
be so far comfortable to him to know that he is kindly remembered; and if he be dead to the world,
he lives in my memory and has his monument in this book.
R. M. Lindsay, writing master in George Square, got the portrait, and I painted his. After I had
finished his portrait he said that he was pleased, and enquired how I was pleased with the result. I
said that I had every reason to be pleased. " Now," said he, " if you thought that you could make
any more use of your portrait for the good of your family, it's at your serviee. " " Do you not like it ?"
said I. " Yes, sir, I do not only like it, but admire it." " Then keep it, for I was well paid for it." " Then,
sir, here's a pound to you to buy material for a new one; and don't be long till you come before us in
a new shape. Send the cobbler up till you give him to the world a finished artist."
This seemed a good idea. I came home with the foundation of the Aspiring Cobbler, started him,
and made him stand up with his hand on his haunch, and look like one that was determined to
move in a great matter. I took him across to the town, on the way to the Tontine again. In passing
the London Hotel in Maxwell Street, I called on George Bridges, as I had promised to give him a
sight of the portrait. George had a few friends with him at the time, amongst whom was Mr George
Girle, leather merchant, from Edinburgh, who wished to know what I would sell the portrait for. I said
five guineas. It was without a frame. He put his hand in his breast and brought forth a pocket-book,
when George Bridges said, rapidly, " No, Girle, I'll give him ten for it. I'll put a handsome frame on it,
and I'll sell it for you, Hunter. It will cost you no trouble; and, Girle, you'll give me a guinea-that is a
chance for yourself and another for the mistress. William Steele, you take a share for yourself and
one for your brother. I'll take one for myself and another for Mrs Bridges. And, Willie M'Kean, you'll
take one, and we'll not be long in getting the rest of them." George was as good as his word. I had
subscribers for the portrait of the Aspiring Cobbler in Glasgow, Edinburgh, London, and Dublin.
George gave me the ten guineas, and Mr Muirhead, leather merchant, Glasgow, got the Cobbler; so
he still kept in the leather trade.
Mr Lindsay's Cobbler was the first portrait I ever had in an Exhibition. I was pleased to see him. He
resembled no other artist's work. Although some artists said that the shadows were of a rozzety
complexion, still that was in the shop. I exhibited the Aspiring Cobbler next year. When I reached
the door of the Exhibition room, out of breath carrying my selected specimen for admittance, I was
met at the door by J. C. Brown, an artist from Edinburgh, although a native of Glasgow. He, in an
ungentlemanlike, impertinent style, looked at my head with a sand-blind glance, and said, " You
can take that thing away. " I said, no, that I had just newly brought it. "For what purpose ?" he as
ill-bredly enquired. My breath was coming back, when I answered, " For exhibition, sir ! And what
business have you with that ?" "It was here before," he said, still in his ill-bred tone. "Never, sir."
"Well, you can take it away." "I have brought it, and when they who have a right to decide say so, I
will; but not till then. What business have you here, Sir?" I firmly enquired. "I'm here at present for
one of the directors to see that no imperfect frame be taken in." " Neither the frame, sir, nor that
which is within it is imperfect; but you are acting like a judge without a jury, and passing sentence
on what you have no business with."
John Mossman came to the door to see what was the cause of such cross conversation, when J.
C. Brown spoke so soft and placid before him, " I only said I thought that this portrait was here
before." Mr Mossman took a look at it and said, no; that it had a right to enter. J. C. then offered to
carry it in. I felt as if I could have put my foot on his corny toes; but I said that no unhallowed hand
should touch my picture if I could help it, and I carried it in myself. Ever after, the celebrated John
Crawford Brown looked to me like a bowl of cold parritch. My picture was admitted, and told well as
a portrait.
I had painted a number of portraits in Paisley before removing to Glasgow. However, when out of
sight out of mind and the only method I resorted to in all cases of emergeney was to make a call on
the public by way of a sale, there being a great deal of waste time canvassing for portraits, and the
small prices I got never made it up, and then I had
nothing to look at for my lost time; whereas, when I used to be working at the shoes, I could put a
few hours into art and gather up for the raffle sales. One day, when things were looking rather blue, I
thought that I would like to see a few friends met. It became rather pleasing than otherwise; the
bashfulness wore off; and as it was always a case of necessity that brought me before the public, I
thought that they knew it as well as myself, so I made no secret of my position. I was here with
what I had. In 1839 I painted the portrait of Robert Owen of New Lanark, and from the portrait I took
a small copy. I had also painted a cabinet portrait of Thomas Paine, from Romney's portrait. I had
my own head, with the beard which I painted in Kilmarnock, and a portrait of my own wife, in free
and easy style, with a bedgown on. One day I saw things getting black; and, looking round the
walls, my eye rested on Robert Owen's portrait. I said to him that "I am quite well aware you would
give us a better world if you had it in your power. However, come along and help me to make the
most of the old world." So I took his portrait off the wall; and to Thomas Paine I said, " The world
required reformation when you were in life; you were never backward to try and put things right;
come and help me just now." So down came Thomas. " And as for you and me, Nanny, its a great
matter to be seen in good company, so we go along with them."
I went down to Paisley and put out bills to the effect that I was going to dispose of four celebrated
characters by raffle in Captain Crawford's. The meeting took place; the pictures got new owners;
and I was benefitted. Mrs Crawford's servant girl, Mary Hart, became owner of the cobbler with the
beard, and he hung long in that house, and for anything I know he may be there unto this day. Little
as those events may appear to others, to me and mine they were great at the time; and the merry
faces of those friends are yet seen in memory as they rallied round me there. It was well enough
known that it was my own portrait with the beard. Robert Owen, and even Thomas, were known,
and Nanny's was surmised to be the wife's portrait. I heard some whispering in a corner as to
making enquiry at me to see whose portrait the female really was. It went into the possession of a
Mr Alexander. I told him distinctly that it was the wife who had come to help me to raise the wind
but to the other enquirers I said that my own head was a portrait of Solomon, the wisest man, and
the female was a portrait of the Queen of Sheba, who had heard of his fame and came to see him,
and there they were. The man who got Thomas Paine's portrait said that he durstna take it home by
that name, but as his wife was a great admirer of Ralph Wardlaw, he would take it home as his
portrait. When he told his wife the prize he had got, she took down the mantlepiece ornaments, and
made a place for the divine, supporting him with everything that was bonnie and braw ; and there
she was proud of the new acquisition to her house. At breakfast time a lang-tongued neebour wife
came in saying, " Aye, woman, and your man got Tam Pen's portrait yestreen." She denied the
fact, and said that it was Dr Wardlaw. However, the neighbour made her statement good till the
husband arrived, and poor Tam was threatened with the fire unless he was taken out of that directly.
" What's in a name ?" Much. A despatch was sent on to the Broomlands to James Mitchell,
shoemaker, that Thomas was in danger. He lost no time in running to the rescue, and for fourteen
shillings took Tom out of the reach of the fire. He went out to Johnstone, to Campbell Snodgrass,
and stated the case to him, who gave him a guinea for the Radical Reformer's portrait.
It may seem curious to some readers to observe only raffles as the leading points of a life. The
other parts were quiet, calm sailing; and only when like to be beat, the public had to be appealed
to. It also shows what faith I had in the good public. Yes, there are hearts large and kind, if they
only had the means; and there are others who lie dormant for want of being spoken to. Sandy
Wilson, a Paisley poet, said, and said truly-
" Nane are free frae some vexations,
llk ane has their ills to dree."
Rent time and raffles seem, when looking back, the
prominent points of my artistic career. I would seem to have lived next door neighbour to a strolling
player. When the dark days of winter come on, the boundary line of hope comes tighter and closer.
The world seems to go on without the services of an artist.
One day when I was cobbling at home I rose to take a rest, and lifting a half-length canvas, set it on
the easel with the intention of making a study of myself. I had chalked the outline of the figure; and
in all mental study objects are seen by the student which like a will-o'-the-wisp lead him onward,
often ending in a mire. However, I had a chalk line on the canvas, and in ideal saw a living likness of
myself standing boldly thereon, appealing to the world for patronage. Nanny came into the room at
the time, and not being art inspired, she said, " It would be liker the thing if you were looking out for
something to pay the rent with instead of painting yourself." I thought my ideal self said, " What's
that woman speaking about?" "Oh," said I, "she's ill pleased at me for taking up wi' you. " " What
was that she was saying about rent?" "She wants the rent, and she thinks you have not as much in
your pouch as pay it." "How much is it?" "Three pound fifteen for the half year." "When is it due?"
"The 11th November." " Paint me properly, and I'll pay a half-year's rent for you, sir." I looked in his
face and said, "Done with you, sir." I shut the door and commenced with vigour; and it was not
many days till a bold honest portrait was finished. I never wrought for any employer with more faith
that I would get what was promised than I did to that shadow.
When it was finished I held out my hand and said, " Now, sir, you have had the last touch; pay the
money." He looked quite firm at me, and said, " I will keep my word; but you must stand at my
back." " What do you mean ?" said I. " You must place me before the public; take me to Paisley."
"You mean me to raffle you there?" "Certainly I do." Whether I was crazy or not it matters not, I
lifted him and down to Mr Snodgrass's shop, 2 High Street. He was placed in the window; and such
was the crush at meal hours, that people could not get either out or in their shops.
The street was utterly blocked up with human beings. The first look I got of him there, I felt proud.
He looked at me and said, "I told you I would do it. Give me a good character. Down to the
Causewayside and enquire at Sandy M'Gilvray, the poet, what to say in your address to the public."
I went direct to M'Gilvray, and told him what I was going to do, and asked him how I should go to
work in the advertisement. " It's the portrait of yoursel', isn't it?" " Yes." " Then begin and talk about
yoursel', and pay attention to no other person, till you can say no more in your own praise; then
ask the public for the shillings." I took the hint. That night, after taking the portrait to Paisley, on
coming home, I went out by Kingston to take a walk in the dark and try and see through the whole
affair. There had been no portraits painting for other people for a long time, and I fancied that they
were either a' done, or the folk had forgotten me. When I came down near to Tod's mill, on the
Paisley Road, a rocket went high up in the dark, then followed others. It was an exhibition of
Vesuvius in a state of eruption to be seen in the old Botanic Gardens. I felt at the first burst a
strong desire to be similarly noticed, for instinctively I said to myself, " If I could only blaze like that,
the world below would know that I existed; but low down and crawling here in the dark, no person
knows of me, and seemingly none cares for me." " Then the more need to take care for yourself,
say I. " I stood till I was stiff with cold. The grand illuminating power of fire had ceased, and all was
still and starvation-like as what it was before it began. " Well," said I to myself, " what now though I
had been blazing; it was only an hour and out. I'll away home and write that bill for Paisley, and its
blaze will be spoken of when artificial Vesuvius is forgotten." I sat down, full of the spirit of
self-importance; something or nothing. So I began under M'Gilvray's pupilage .-
J. E. Hunter, Portrait Painter, 109 Dale Street, Tradeston, Glasgow, a Jew-like, shock poll'd, tall,
black man, more like a cobbler than a gentleman, determined to command an extension of
patronage in Paisley, by showing forth his Vesuvius-like power,
whose eruptions must fall on the connoisseurs with such irresistible evidence, that every one will be
compelled to join with him in thinking that, since the dark ages of bearded artists, he is the only
Phoenix-like figure sprung out of their ashes, to restore art to its primaeval splendour. Those who
have the most distant hope of having their likeness painted will now do well to bespeak their sitting,
as he expects such a rush that it will be long ere he can accomplish the task of pourtraying that
enlightened portion of the community who will and must be induced to employ him. While he is
anxious that others should be held forth to posterity, in his zeal for stereotyping worth, he has not
forgot himself, whose likeness is now exhibiting in Mr Snodgrass's, 2 High Street, and will be
disposed of in Mrs Crawford's, St Mirren Street, such a night. Should the small sum of ten guineas
be realised, he will paint the winner of his portrait the same size gratis.
N.B.-J. K. H. foresees that the heirs and successors of whoever may be so fortunate as to
become the proprietor of this Portrait will two hundred years after this, realise an immense fortune
by a sale of it to the Antiquarian Society, where the portraits of great men alone are admitted.
I stopped there, and got 500 bills printed with this delicate declaration and modest appreciation of
my present and future hopes. Some strangers came that night to see me as a curiosity, when I
endeavoured to look as primitive as possible. Mr Brown of Egypt Park and Bailie Gibson were pars
for the portrait, and in the second chance it fell to the lot of Mr Brown. What is rather strange, Capt.
Spiers of Kilmarnock became proprietor of my portrait, and it is now in that town, from which I date
my start as an artist. The portrait drew exactly five guineas, which paid the rent, as he promised,
and all the expense connected with the disposing of him. There was neither a halfpenny in or ower.
I did not require to paint the portrait; and I got thirteen portraits bespoke that night, which was a
grand respond to my appeal for universal patronage.
I had a strong desire if possible to rise above the shoes, which I had as yet to hold on to as a sheet
anchor, so I projected another portrait of myself for exhibition, " The Cobbler beyond his Last. "
Here was a conclusion. I was seated in an arm chair beside a table, on which some things
connected with the fine arts rested, and the last still in view, only it was now retiring to the
background. John M'Kean, my first patron after I came to Glasgow, bequeathed to me his wedding
coat. It was a beautiful brown, with a velvet collar. I immortalised John's coat in this portrait. It was a
low toned, truthful, powerful specimen of portraiture. I did not need to blush for its appearance
among artists of name. Yet, strange, the upper world did not see prudent to employ me. I was at
one time patronised by Bailie Small, a native of Kilwinning, who had risen to a good position in
Glasgow. One day when he came home from a meeting of Council, he said, " We had a great
conversation to-day about getting the Queen's portrait painted for the town; and I was thinking,
when one mentioned his friend Graham Gilbert, and another his friend Dan M'Nee, of naming you as
my friend and giving you a chance." I began to laugh at the proposition of the good-hearted bailie,
and said that they would have laughed at him there. "What would they laugh for? I am sure that you
have made as good a likeness of me as any of them could have done." "I'm not disputing that; but
the idea of a cobbler going to paint a Queen would scarcely sound weel." " It may seem out of
place for people to name their friends in a matter which belongs to the public. If I had my will, I
would send the man that was best fitted for the job. However, we are to have a meeting to-morrow,
and I'll name you, and see what they say. " Next day came, and the bailie, faithful to his promise,
named his friend and artist. "What made you think yesterday that they would laugh at me if I had
done so ?" he enquired, after he came home. " In a case of this kind, it must be an artist of
established name." " Well, when I mentioned you it was not a laugh, but a roar of laughter. I have
not seen such a hearty meeting for many a day. Sir James Gampbell complimented me on my
choice of an artist, and my desire to forward the interest of an Ayrshire individual. He said that
Ayrshire folk were clannish. When the laugh subsided, Sir James gave the same reason which you
named. I put a finish to my part of the business, that as it ought to be a matter of principle, I was at
a loss to know why friendship should be named in the choice,
and I said that I had as good a right to lift a friend as any of them."
I had a warm friend and patron in Mr George Donaldson, slate merchant, who introduced me to
many families; and Mr John King, clerk, of North Woodside Spinning Factory, was a warm friend.
Through him I was introduced to Peter Wilson Clark, a native of Ayr, who was a merchant in
Glasgow. I painted Peter's portrait. He was so much pleased with it, and seemed to see so much
art in it, that he deemed me worthy of a chance. A dinner was given to the West of Scotland
Academicians, by gentlemen-the Duke of Hamilton to be in the chair. He was seized with trouble,
which prevented his coming; but Lord Douglas did the honours in place of his father. Mr P. W. Clark
treated me to a ticket for said dinner, which was sixteen shillings. I was charged by him to look as
large as the best of them, and to take my seat near to the president, J. G. Gilbert, and a little
before he was going to make his speech, I was to turn my eyes on him in the same manner I did on
him when he was sitting for his likeness, and he would sit and see how I did it. I had cards at that
time with my name as F.R.S. & C., professor in and president of the Cobbler's School of Art. The
letters after the name stood for " First-rate shoemaker and cobbler." My presidency was well
enough known to the president of the West of Scotland Academy. And I did the thing so well, that
Peter said there was a devilish sort of grandeur, which he enjoyed more than the speeches. We
had Professor Wilson from Edinburgh, and many who are now dead. Few of the speakers are alive
at this date.