Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) (17 page)

“Next Yeare,” he said, “once we have our Act inshrined in Law, it will be better. All shall be done in the legal Manner, and even for the Surgeons Hall there need be no more scrabbling to demonstrate Everything upon a single Corpse; all shall be shewn separately: Bones, Veins, Nerves, Digestion, Reproduction. But for now, Gentlemen, we must hope the Gaoler comes quick to his Senses, and struggle forwards in Company with Vesalius and a few Blocks of Wood.”

I understood both Parts of Dr Hunter’s Frustration, for the Thought of My Self as some Manner of scavenging Scrabbler was deeply unpleasant, and I could not help thinking of those Stories in which Men were murdered for Dissection. However, my Pleasure at finally achieving mine Aim of proper Instruction, and mine
Excitement at the Thought of working upon an Human Corpse at all, put such Discontentments from mine Head. The “Blocks of Wood”, of which he had spoken with such Irritation, I discovered to be a Number of anatomical Preparations displaying the venous System and many other Structures, preserved upon a wooden Surface beneath a Varnish. These were to mine Eyes Objects of great Beauty, and I was happy to gaze upon them, despite their being twice removed from living Flesh. It was easy for me to perceive how each Structure was formed, and to imagine how it might function; upon the second Evening, whilst looking upon a Block of Breast Tissue, I seemed, for a Moment, to see it as if’t had been vivified by the Motion of the Blood and bodily Fluids, full and perfect white as a Milkmaid’s. Another Evening, he described to us the Condition of the developing Foetus within the Womb, and shewed some early Sketches he had commissioned of it, which he planned to publish as a Series of anatomical Engravings. I remembered those rat Pups I had dissected out of their Mother’s Uterus, and Nathaniel’s strange Suggestion that they were Questions which would never be answered. I could not prevent my Mind from wondering about the pregnant Women who had died.

One Evening, perhaps a Sennight after the Commencement of his Lectures—for I must confess that after a very few Dayes I ceased to have any Awareness of Time, and knew not whether ’twas Saturdaye or Mondaye—Dr Hunter presented his Audience with a Series of Engravings depicting the internal Structure of the Aortic Artery, and proceeded to discover the Shape and Progression, first recorded, he told us, by Paulus Aegineta, of an Aneurysm. I was not familiar with this Text, or, indeed, the Notion that an Artery may bow and swell beyond its Capacity, like a River bursting from its Banks. Yet the Idea grippt me; and as the great Surgeon continued
in his Descriptions of this Condition, I began to ponder upon where else within the Body than the Thorax such Distortions might be found, and what Incapacity might result therefrom.

At eight o’ the Clock, when the Lecture ended, I waited for the Room to clear, and then I approached Dr Hunter with the Result of my Deliberations, for I had formulated an interesting Hypothesis.

“Sir,” I said. “In respect of the Question you ask us to consider regarding the possible Cause of a thoracic Aneurysm, I believe that it must be the tremendous Pressure of the Blood as it departs the Heart, which I know from mine own Experiments upon the Bodies of Animals to be very great; but I have a Query of mine own, upon which I would hear, if I may, Sir, your Opinion.”

Dr Hunter, who was carefully putting his beautifull Etchings into a large Box, straightened up and gave me, at once, his full Attention. I flushed slightly, all at once conscious of My Self, standing in the extream Bright of the empty Theatre, which was lit by so many waxen Candles it appeared like Noon.

“Sir,” I began, “if ’tis possible for an Artery to tear within the Chest, is it not equally like for it to do so elsewhere, if Circumstances cause the Pressure to be elevated? I was pondering whether, in Cases of sudden Apoplexy, the Cause is not the Rupturing of an arterial Vessel within the Cranium. It seems very likely to me that when a Man is in a Rage, his Jowls reddened and his Eyes bulging, the Pressure in his Skull must undergo dangerous Increase.” I had been somewhat uncharitably remembering the Rector Ravenscroft.

Dr Hunter regarded me steadily. He seemed surprized, as if he had not been expecting any such Suggestion from me. My Stomach began to squirm. “It is an Hypothesis, merely,” I said. My Voice piped small and reedy in the Vastness of the Chamber.

“Indeed,” answered Dr Hunter. “And it is a good one. I take it, Mr Hart, that you have read Wepfer’s
Apoplexia
?”

I was startled. “No, Sir; I have not heard of it.”

“Then you should read it; for in it he describes the very Phenomenon you propose. Come, Sir, I shall give you the Loan of it.”

Once he had finished packing up his Notes and Pictures, in which Endeavour he seemed quite happy to permit me to assist, Dr Hunter led me thro’ the House to his impressive medical Library, and had an Assistant fetch from its high Shelf that Treatise upon Stroake, which he then personally presst into mine Hands. This done, he waved me off quick about my Business, for he had a private Patient to attend forthwith, and he had to change his Location, his Attire and his Manner. “’Twould not do,” he said, “to terrify the poor Lady.”

Over the following seven Weeks, Dr Hunter lent me many Books, and to mine immense Delight I eventually discovered My Self to be, if not his most preferred Student, among those select Few to whom he intimated that he might offer an Apprenticeship. I dedicated My Self to the Achievement of this Aim, which would necessitate my Presence at the Hospitals of St Bartholomew’s, in Smithfield and St Thomas’s, in Southwark, which were open to the Publick and even facilitated Treatment of Beggars.

I could not, however, apportion all my Time to formal Study, for I was outwith mine own Laboratory; and altho’ Dr Hunter permitted his Students to use his Facilities for animal Dissection, there were a good many Students, and I had little Desire to fight off all other Takers merely to repeat mine Experiments upon lesser Species. Instead, I continued my Visits to Mrs Haywood’s, and there I was able to observe many physical Prodigies that must otherwise have been beyond my Reach. I did not cause any significant Harm
to Polly, altho’ perhaps some of the Scars I left upon her Skin proved longer lasting than I had anticipated. However, I found in her a wondrous compliant Subject for Investigation, and ’twas thro’ her Assistance, and no Dissection whatsoever, that I discovered, intirely for My Self, the Paths traversed by all the major Nerves in the Arms and the lower Legs. At every Squeak and Whimper, the internal Anatomy opened up before mine inner Vision, clear and sharp as an Engraving.

Thus the Pattern of my Life became established. I gravitated between lecture Room and Brothel, Library and Bedchamber, thinking of nothing but my Studies and my Gratification. Some Dayes I did not see the Sunne.

*   *   *

Shortly before New Yeare, I returned to Bow Street from the Brothel to meet with the exciting Newes that Dr Hunter had finally procured a Cadaver from Newgate, and that from the Mondaye we should work on it for three intire Evenings; longer, if the Corpse should last. I was delighted, and in mine Exuberance I lifted Mrs Fielding, who had delivered the Doctor’s Message into mine Hand, clear off her Feet. Mary squawked in Outrage and thumped me hard upon the Shoulder.

“For Shame, Mr ’Art,” she said, when I had put her down. “And me a married Woman! You, Sir, ’ave the Manners of a Clod!”

In Reply, I swept her a deep and courtly Bow, mine Hat tucked under mine Elbow, then dodged quickly out of the drawing Room before she could scold me any farther.

On the following Mondaye at precisely five o’ Clock, I arrived at Dr Hunter’s Chambers in a State of great Anticipation and Excitability. I could not begin to articulate the Thrill that had
possesst me at the Thought of my first Dissection, my first Human Corpse; but my Fingers were a-trembling and mine Heart pounded in my Chest like an huge Gong.

I had never paid aught but the most minimal Attention to my fellow anatomy Students, so it came as somewhat of a Surprize to me to realise that mine Excitement was shared by the whole Colloquium; about mine Ears the Conversation clamoured. Mr Mills, who was a country Physician in his later thirties, had witnessed an Anatomy performed in Leiden some Yeares earlier, and finding it highly unsatisfactory, had ever since desired the Experience for himself. He had been so seriously displeased that Dr Hunter was not at present teaching in the Paris Manner that he had considered asking for his Sum to be returned, but had changed his Mind. I found My Self disliking him. Mr Glass, with whom he was in Conversation, was the Son of an Apothecary, and he planned, as I did, to become a Surgeon. He was a small Man, some Yeares older than My Self, and well suited his Name. His blue Frock was neat, but not fashionable; his Wigg brown; his Features regular, but not handsome; and his Demeanour quiet. When he spoke, it was in an even, thoughtful Tone that implied that he took great Care in forming his Opinions, and even greater Care in voicing them. He saw Dissection as a most important Step upon his Path, he said. No one, from what I could gather, had mine Experience of Animal Physiology.

Dr Hunter’s Expression, as he led us to his lecture Room, was solemn. “Remember, Gentlemen,” he said, “we are not Butchers. Respect and Care, and above all, Observation, are to be the Principles under which we shall operate. Anatomy is the Base, the Foundation, of our modern Medicine, and without it we should still be floundering in the Darknesses of Misapprehension and
Ignorance. Make careful and detailed Observations of all that you see; and if an Organ appears to you to be misshapen or diseased, call our Attention to it at once. Work with Diligence and Rectitude, and you will learn more in the next few Dayes than I could teach you otherwise in as many Months.” He smiled. “And do not drop anything. I’ll have none of Mr Hogarth’s Quackery in here, Sirs!”

This provoked a general Laugh amongst those of the Company who were familiar with Hogarth’s Opinions. I did not join in. Dr Hunter’s Words had inspired me suddenly to fear that I should be the Student who disgraced him, and mortified My Self, by making a slap-dash Butchery of the Business. I had the horrifying Premonition that I should slop the Liver on my Foot and then slip Arse over Tip upon the bloody Floor. God grant not! I thought. No; in that Room, there will be no more diligent a Student than Tristan Hart.

Dr Hunter then led us all into his Theatre, into which the Last of the spring Sunnelight was streaming thro’ the large, locked, Windows. The twin Fireplaces were empty. An unusual Odour clouded the unmoving Aire, colouring its Chill. Dust Motes danced upon slowly spiralling Vapours. Behind me, somebody coughed, and I saw Mr Mills put up an Handkerchief to his Nostrils. In the Centre of the Room, upon the largest of the black oaken Tables, and wrappt in a white muslin Sheet so that I could perceive naught but its Outline, lay an Human Corpse. Silence fell upon us all as we regarded it.

’Tis but a Rat, I had said once to Nathaniel Ravenscroft. Now I thought: That was a Man; until but a few Dayes ago he would have walked, and conversed, and had his own Thoughts. What is he, now? What, where? Hath his Soule departed to Heaven—or more like, to Hell—taking with it all he was, or would ever have been
like to be? And if that is so, then what is this before me? Is it Something, or Nothing?

Dr Hunter proceeded swiftly to the Table and pulled back the Sheet. “Gather round, Gentlemen,” he said.

The dead Man had a Face. Even if his Corpus was nothing now but a Complexity of Bones and Flesh, he had been—the Body had belonged to—a Man: in his forties, perhaps; his sparse Hair gone intirely grey, and too kindly of Countenance, it seemed to me, to have lived long a Rogue, tho’ he had died one. I did not recall seeing him convicted.

I moved nearer. The Cadaver seemed at first Sight to have been fashioned out of Wax. The Skin was a pale yellowy grey, and glistened faintly in the strong Sunnelight. Then as I peered more closely I noticed a deep crimson Stain within the Tissues all along the right Side of the Body, where the Blood had settled after Death. How long, I wondered, had he lain dead in the Prison before anyone had found him? For the second Time I wondered what Crime had sent him thither. Poverty, I saw, had laid its Brand upon him, if Vice had not. His upper Chest and Ribs were poorly muscled, and almost devoid, I thought, of Fat; the Stomach Region also; whilst the Os Femoris and the Tibia bowed outwards as if he sate permanently astride an Horse. Surely, this Man grew up in St Giles, I thought. Had he been a petty Thief, a Pickpocket, an Whoremaster to Madam Geneva; or her increasingly desperate Lover?

The sweetish Smell, I realised suddenly, that had impresst me so strangely upon mine entering the Room, was emanating from the Cadaver. With nothing to preserve them, its soft Tissues already had begun the Processes of Decay. I had witnessed it before, in mine own Laboratory, when I had exhausted my Supplies both of Vinegar and of desiccating Salt. I understood at once wherefore
we were to follow the traditional Method of Dissection, whereby the internal Organs should be excavated first, examined and then put aside. Galen’s Way, beginning with the Skeletal Structure, may indeed have been more logickal; but pure Logick had here to give Way to Practicality. It would have been ridiculous to have left the Organs inside, whence their Corruption might have spread fast to the Remainder of the Corpse.

’Tis not a Man, I thought. ’Tis not Nothing; but it hath lost that Something by which it was ever more than mere Flesh, senseless and inert.

What lies here now is nothing but a broken Clock.

“Are we ready to begin Work, Gentlemen?” asked Dr Hunter.

I quickly removed my Frock and Waistcoat, and tucked my Ruffles right away inside my Sleeves. “Yes,” I said.

I had hoped—tho’ I had hardly dared admit the Hope—that Dr Hunter would permit me the Honour of making the initial Incision into the Corpse’s Chest, but it was not to be. That Privilege went to Mr Glass, who accepted it with astounding Diffidence; altho’, I grudgingly perceived, no want of Skill. A great Chear went up as his Scalpel pierced the Skin. I struggled to conceal my Jealousy.