The Strand Magazine/Volume 5/Issue 26/Hands
HE hand, like the face, is indicative or representative of character. Even those who find the path to belief in the doctrines of the palmist and chirognomist paved with innumerable thorns, cannot fail to be interested in the illustrious manual examples, collected from the studios of various sculptors, which accompany this article.
Mr. Adams-Acton, a distinguished sculptor, tells me his belief that there is as great expression in the hand as in the face; and another great artist, Mr. Alfred Gilbert, R.A., goes even a step further: he invests the bare knee with expression and vital identity. There would, indeed, appear to be no portion of the human frame which is incapable of giving forth some measure of the inherent distinctiveness of its owner. This is, I think, especially true of the hand. No one who was fortunate enough to observe the slender, tapering fingers and singular grace of the hand of the deceased Poet Laureate could possibly believe it the extremity of a coarse or narrow-minded person. In the accompanying photographs, the hand of a cool, yet enthusiastic, ratiocinative spirit will be found to bear a palpable affinity to others whose possessors come under this head, and yet be utterly antagonistic to Carlyle's, or to another type, Cardinal Manning's.
Queen Victoria's hands.
We have here spread out for our edification hands of majesty, hands of power of artistic creativeness; of cunning; hands of the ruler, the statesman, the soldier, the author, and the artist. To philosophers disposed to resolve a science from representative examples here is surely no lack of matter. It would, on the whole, be difficult to garner from the century's history a more glittering array of celebrities in all the various departments of endeavour than is here presented.
Princess Alice's hand.
The Prince of Wales's hand.
First and foremost, entitled to precedence almost by a double right, for this cast antedates, with one exception, all the rest, are the hands of Her Majesty the Queen. They were executed in 1844, when Her Majesty had sat upon the throne but the throne but seven years, and, if I do not greatly err, in connection with the first statue of the Queen after her accession. They will no doubt evoke much interest when compared with the hand of the lamented Princess Alice, who was present at the first ceremony, an infant in arms of eight months. In addition to that of the Princess Alice, taken in 1872, we have the hands of the Princesses Louise and Beatrice, all three of whom sat for portrait statues to Sir Edgar Boehm, R.A., from whose studio, also, emanates the cast of the hand of the Prince of Wales.
Princess Beatrice's hands.Pricess Louise's hands.
In each of the manual extremities thus presented of the Royal Family, similar characteristics may be noticed. The dark hue which appears on the surface of the hands of the two last named Princesses is not the fault of the photograph but of the casts, which are, unfortunately, in a soiled condition.
Hand of Anak, the Giant. Hand of Caroline, sister of Napoleon.
Mr. Gladstone's hand.
It is a circumstance not a little singular, but the only cast in this collection which is anterior to the Queen's, itself appertains to Royalty, being none other than the hand of Caroline, sister of the first Napoleon, who also, it must not be forgotten, was a queen. It is purposely coupled in the photograph with that of Anak, the famous French giant, in order to exhibit the exact degree of its deficiency in that quality which giants most and ladies least can afford to be complaisant over—size. Certainly it would be hard to deny it grace and exquisite proportion, in which it resembles an even more beautiful hand, that of the Greek lady, Zoe, wife of the late Archbishop of York, which seems to breathe of Ionian mysticism and elegance.
Hand of Zoe, wife of the late Archbishop of York.
Lord Beaconsfield's hand.
One cannot dwell long upon this quality of grace and elegance without adverting to a hand which, if not the most wonderful among the hands masculine, is with one exception the most beautiful. When it is stated that this cast of Mr. Gladstone's hand was executed by Mr. Adams Acton, quite recently; that one looks upon the hand not of a youth of twenty, but of an octogenarian, it is difficult to deny it the epithet remarkable. Although the photograph is not wholly favourable to the comparison, yet in the original plaster it is possible at once to detect its similarity to the hand of Lord Beaconsfield.
Cardinal Manning's hand.
Henry Irving's hand.
In truth, the hands of these statesmen have much in common. Yet, for a more striking resemblance between hands we must turn to another pair. The sculptor calls attention to the eminently ecclesiastical character of the hand of Cardinal Manning. It is in every respect the hand of the ideal prelate. Yet its every attribute is common to one hand, and one hand only, in the whole collection, that of Mr. Henry Irving, the actor. The general conformation, the protrusion of the metacarpal bones, the laxity of the skin at the joints, are characteristic of both.
Lord Napier of Magdala's hand.
Sir Bartle Frere's hand.
There could be no mistaking the bellicose traits visible in the hands of the two warriors—Lord Napier of Magdala and Sir Bartle Frere. Both bespeak firmness, hardihood, and command, just as Lord Brougham's hand, which will be found represented on the next page, suggest the jurist, orator, and debater. But it can scarcely be said that the great musician is apparent in Liszt's hand, which is also depicted on the following page. The fingers are short and corpulent, and the whole extremity seems more at variance with the abilities and temperament of the owner than any other represented in these casts, and, as a case which seems to completely baffle the reader of character, is one of the most interesting in the collection.
Lord Brougham's hand.
Liszt's hand.
Highly gruesome, but not less fascinating, are the hands of the late Wilkie Collins, with which we will conclude this month's section of our subject.
In this connection a gentleman, who had known the novelist in life, on being shown the cast, exclaimed: "Yes, those are the hands, I assure you; none other could have written the 'Woman in White!'"
Wilkie Collin's hands.
Note.—Thanks are due to Messrs. Hamo Thorneycroft, R.A., Adams-Acton, Onslow Ford, R.A., T. Brock, R.A., W. R. Ingram, Alfred Gilbert, R.A., J. T. Tussaud, Professor E. Lantéri, and A. B. Skinner, Secretary South Kensington Museum, for courtesies extended during the compilation of this paper.
(To be continued.)