Reynold’s Hands

Barrie Sheppard has recently been pondering the ability of Sir Joshua Reynolds R. A. to paint hands. Barrie writes: ‘Recently, an acquaintance of mine commented during a Johnson Society of Australia seminar (Samuel Johnson) that Sir Joshua Reynolds “couldn’t paint hands” – a claim I questioned, given that of the books on Reynolds I have read this hasn’t been mentioned, and also on the grounds of my viewing of a  number of his portraits. I must say, though, that I am not a Reynolds’ scholar, and that my examination of portraits has been of internet and book images only, with the exception of the NGV’s “Miss Susannah Gale”. There is, however, one documented case that I have come across, pertaining to a Reynolds’ portrait of the family of Horace Walpole.  Walpole returned the portrait to Reynolds, complaining that it had obviously been hurried and poorly executed, particularly the hands’.

Reynolds was known for painting quickly, and that he often delivered works to clients before they had properly dried. And, also, that it was common for him to paint little more of a portrait than the face, a small “army’ of assistants painting all else – drapery, setting and, presumably, the hands. Given the number of portraits he produced in a year at the height of his practice, one academic has described his residence at Leicester Square as a “portrait factory”.

Possible additional evidence of his painting of hands comes in a recently published novel – A Right Royal Face-off: a Georgian Entertainment Featuring Thomas Gainsborough and Another, by journalist and theatre critic, Simon Edge. The novel deals with, among other things, the known rivalry between Reynolds and Thomas Gainsborough.

Gainsborough, in the novel, is shown sceptical of Reynolds’ appointment as Director of the Royal Academy, knowing that the King had little time for his appointee (he was “whiggish”), but felt obliged to give him the job given his leading role in establishing the Academy. This disappointment was compounded when Reynolds rejected  one of Gainsborough’s portraits  for exhibition, fearing that the subject  (Lady Waldegrave who had been married in secret to the King’s brother, The Duke of Gloucester) would displease the King; and then, later irritation when the King appointed  Reynolds as court painter when the incumbent, Allan Ramsay, died.

In the novel, Edge has Gainsborough making numerous criticisms of Reynolds’ painting of hands, describing them as “like plates of meat” and commenting that they are invariably concealed in drapery or gloves to avoid having to be painted. However, my internet survey of some of Reynolds’ major works belies this. To my eye, the painting of the hands is, with some few exceptions, far from inept. One such exception is the left hand of his portrait of Omai (1776). But the question is, did Reynolds paint it? 

We must also keep in mind that Edge’s book is a novel; however, given the number of times his Gainsborough makes the criticisms Edge attributes to him, it is reasonable to assume that the novelist has done his research (the “Afterword’ to the novel bears this out). So Gainsborough may well have actually made the criticisms, but he may have been criticising what Reynolds didn’t in fact paint, and there are certainly good grounds for the view that Gainsborough had an axe to grind against Reynolds.

One Reynolds’ portrait (which Johnson Society members are very familiar with) is his 1770 half-portrait of his close friend Samuel Johnson. Johnson is seen in profile, wigless and in day dress. The hands are quite remarkable. They are held, contorted, in front of his chest (as his hand gesticulations often were), their expressiveness matching that of Johnson’s facial expression.

Another work of interest is Reynolds’ portrait of the literary critic, the short-sighted Giuseppe Baretti whom Reynolds appointed Secretary to The Royal Academy. Reynolds has the well-fed Baretti in close-up, seated, holding a book close to his eyes. Again, it seems to me that the painting of the hands cannot be considered poor.

At the moment, I await the arrival by post of two biographies of Gainsborough and another of Reynolds that may shed further light on this matter. In the meantime guides may be able to contribute to the discussion.

Finally, with lock-down time on their hands, guides might enjoy Simon Edge’s book. It has three cleverly related sections: a Georgian one set in Gainsborough’s Pall Mall residence; a section comprising the letters of a young footman in Gainsborough’s household addressed to his mother in Suffolk, and a modern, comic section that satirises Antique Roadshows.

A Right Royal Face-off: a Georgian Entertainment Featuring Thomas Gainsborough and Another (available on Kindle – $7).

Thank you, Barrie, for your very ‘handy’ information about Sir Joshua.