The portraits differed from each other in face perhaps ten times as much as they differed by the hand; whereas with living people the two go pretty much together; and where one is remarkable, the other will almost certainly not be commonplace.
One interesting portrait was that of Duncan of Camperdown.He stands in uniform beside a table, his feet slightly straddled with the balance of an old sailor, his hand poised upon a chart by the finger tips.The mouth is pursed, the nostril spread and drawn up, the eyebrows very highly arched.The cheeks lie along the jaw in folds of iron, and have the redness that comes from much exposure to salt sea winds.From the whole figure, attitude and countenance, there breathes something precise and decisive, something alert, wiry, and strong.You can understand, from the look of him, that sense, not so much of humour, as of what is grimmest and driest in pleasantry, which inspired his address before the fight at Camperdown.He had just overtaken the Dutch fleet under Admiral de Winter."Gentlemen," says he, "you see a severe winter approaching; I have only to advise you to keep up a good fire." Somewhat of this same spirit of adamantine drollery must have supported him in the days of the mutiny at the Nore, when he lay off the Texel with his own flagship, the VENERABLE, and only one other vessel, and kept up active signals, as though he had a powerful fleet in the offing, to intimidate the Dutch.
Another portrait which irresistibly attracted the eye, was the half-length of Robert M'Queen, of Braxfield, Lord Justice-Clerk.If I know gusto in painting when I see it, this canvas was painted with rare enjoyment.The tart, rosy, humorous look of the man, his nose like a cudgel, his face resting squarely on the jowl, has been caught and perpetuated with something that looks like brotherly love.A peculiarly subtle expression haunts the lower part, sensual and incredulous, like that of a man tasting good Bordeaux with half a fancy it has been somewhat too long uncorked.From under the pendulous eyelids of old age the eyes look out with a half-youthful, half-frosty twinkle.Hands, with no pretence to distinction, are folded on the judge's stomach.So sympathetically is the character conceived by the portrait painter, that it is hardly possible to avoid some movement of sympathy on the part of the spectator.And sympathy is a thing to be encouraged, apart from humane considerations, because it supplies us with the materials for wisdom.It is probably more instructive to entertain a sneaking kindness for any unpopular person, and, among the rest, for Lord Braxfield, than to give way to perfect raptures of moral indignation against his abstract vices.He was the last judge on the Scotch bench to employ the pure Scotch idiom.His opinions, thus given in Doric, and conceived in a lively, rugged, conversational style, were full of point and authority.Out of the bar, or off the bench, he was a convivial man, a lover of wine, and one who "shone peculiarly" at tavern meetings.
He has left behind him an unrivalled reputation for rough and cruel speech; and to this day his name smacks of the gallows.
