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Category: Anatomy

Skin, Bones and the ‘Dust of Death’

January 27th, 2012 | by | anatomy, medicine, public health

Jan
27

'Dust of Death'

Container for the 'Dust of Death' collected in 1859 (Stewart Emmens)

These days John Hunter (1728-1793), the celebrated surgeon, anatomist and collector, lies safely buried amongst the great and good in Westminster Abbey – not far from the likes of Ben Jonson, David Livingstone and Robert Stephenson.

This was not always the case. For over 60 years, his body lay in the vaults of London’s St Martin-in-the-Fields church. Only in 1859, when the vaults were being cleared for public health reasons, were Hunter’s remains reinterred in their current prestigious place.

This transfer was down to the actions of one man, Francis (‘Frank’) Trevelyan Buckland – surgeon, natural historian, fellow collector and general eccentric. Son of William, a leading naturalist and the Dean of Westminster, Frank was a larger than life character whose approach to recovering Hunter’s body was typical. With the help of a few hired hands, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work himself.

Finding Hunter amongst the hundreds of coffins crammed in the vault took two weeks, at the beginning of which even the strong-stomached Buckland had a wobble. His diary for the first day of the search reads, “The stink awful; rather faint towards the end of the business”. But he knuckled down and, ever the collector, couldn’t resist nabbing a few souvenirs while he was there. 

More 'Dust of Death'

More 'Dust of Death' collected by Frank in 1859 (Stewart Emmens)

Alongside more “Dust of Death” sweepings from the church vault – a second example of which is shown above – Buckland retained some more solid remnants, such as these unusual skull fragments. 

Skull fragments

Skull fragments with "remarkable crystals" (Stewart Emmens)

But alongside the nameless human detritus, he was clearly intrigued by encounters with known individuals. Twins Robert and Daniel Perreau, infamous gentlemen criminals hanged in 1776, appear to have held a particular fascination.

Human skin

Skin from a hanged man (Stewart Emmens)

Not content with the skin from the neck of one brother, on which he could still see the marks of the rope, Buckland also retrieved several neck vertebrae – described by another of his hand-written notes.

Neck vertebrae

Neck bones... no longer connected (Stewart Emmens)

Surprisingly, such ad hoc ‘body-snatching’ was not so out of the ordinary as there is evidence of other prominent figures acquiring similarly grisly relics when presented with the opportunity. And, given that Buckland only found Hunter’s remains in the second last of the 3,260 coffins in the vault, perhaps he felt entitled to some grisly mementoes from a truly grisly task.

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A tale of two brothers

February 2nd, 2011 | by | anatomy, medicine, quirky, road transport

Feb
02

Following the release of The King’s Speech with Colin Firth, it inspired me to look into the two brothers of the film, Edward VIII and George VI using the Science Museum’s collections as my pool of reference. I was pleasantly surprised with the things I found.

X-ray of Edward VIII's left hand, 1931 (2004-264, Science Museum, London)

Following a visit to an orthopaedic hospital in Stoke-on-Trent, the then future Edward VIII, had his hand x-rayed. It was a way of showing off a technology that by the 1930s was in every hospital in Britain. It was also a souvenir of his visit to the hospital maybe, to open a new wing or ward.

In fact, George VI also had an x-ray taken the following year at the Merseyside Hospitals Exhibition.

X-ray of George VI's right hand, 1932 (2004-265, Science Museum, London)

Taking X-rays of royalty for fun rather than medical purposes is one thing but can you imagine the pressure of operating on the reigning monarch? That’s precisely what Clement Price-Thomas from the Westminster Hospital was called to do for George VI on 23 September 1951 at Buckingham Palace.

George VI's operating table (1985-410/1, Science Museum, London)

The table was loaned to the Palace for the operation and afterwards went back into general use, with patients having no idea who they had shared an operating table with.

Edward VIII was also a donor to the Science Museum’s collections, donating a number of royal carriages in 1936.

Bath chair owned by Queen Victoria, 1893 (1936-599, © Science Museum / Science & Society)

This example was used by Queen Victoria in her advanced years. Unlike normal bath chairs, this example was pulled by a pony, led by a footman. If you want to see this chair in the flesh, it is currently on display at the National Trust Carriage Collection in Arlington Court.

Snippets of the two brothers’ lives can be seen on Science and Society Prints including their everyday lives, coronations and funerals.

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Not for the squeamish….

January 20th, 2011 | by | anatomy, medicine, meta

Jan
20

I often get asked what skills you need to be a curator. As a medical curator, the one I’ve found most useful is having a strong stomach.

Unsurprisingly, we have large amounts of blood-related items in the collections including bleeding bowls, lancets, leech jars, cupping sets and even mechanical leeches.

Lancets with a case showing a bloodletting scene 1750-1850 (A647881, Science Museum, London)

Blood was let from patients to restore their the balance of their humours. For instance, a fever was a sign of too much hot blood running through the body so to return equilibrium, blood was let from a vein into a bleeding bowl.

It required some skill to hit the right spot and to know when enough was enough. Most would have been barber-surgeons or physicians and often advertised their wares in particularly literal fashion.

Barber surgeon's shop sign, England, 1680-1830 (A631340, Science Museum, London)

But it’s not just people on dry land that require treatment. One of the more amazing items is a blood letter’s document wallet.

Richard Phillips' document wallet, England (A633734, Science Museum, London)

The owner of the wallet, Richard Phillips was on board HMS Eclipse in 1813 and probably performed cupping or bleeding to the sailors on board – undoubtedly a messy procedure.

Bloodletting was not only confined to humans – animals too were bled.  The tools are only slightly different – bloodsticks are a used to tap a fleam into the jugular vein of an animal.

Group of bloodsticks, 1750-1850 (Science Museum, London)

The work of the bloodletter or barber surgeon seem far distant in our history but there is one relic of their work that survives - a barber’s red and white pole.  The colours represent the bandages: clean and bloodstained.

They are entwined around a pole which is reminiscent of the staff grasped by those about to be bled from the arm. Fortunately barbers don’t perform the same jobs now….

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Bring out your dead

November 25th, 2010 | by | anatomy, medicine

Nov
25

With the recent release of Burke and Hare, it got me thinking about bodysnatching. 

Learning anatomy, then and now, meant practicing dissections on cadavers or watching a dissection in an anatomy theatre. Bodies were often in short supply as dissection was taboo for social, cultural and religious reasons. The only bodies that were legally available were executed criminals. 

Anatomy theatre, Cambridge, 1815 (1982-575, Science Museum, London)

Stealing a body was not a criminal offence as technically, the body could not be owned by anyone. If clothes or jewellery were taken, well, that’s a different story and murdering people, quite another.

Burke and Hare weren’t the only murdering body snatchers or ‘resurrectionists’. Bishop and Thomas were another infamous duo.

Once convicted, bodysnatchers who murdered their victims would be executed in front of a baying crowd. They shared the fates of their victims – they were dissected by anatomy teachers for their students. Later they would be publicly exhibited, as a warning to others.

Burke and Hare had differing fates. William Burke was executed in 1829 and hidden in our collection is what is reported to be a piece of his brain.

Piece of Burke's brain (A667469, Science Museum, London)

The only thing that we know is that it was bought at auction by Henry Wellcome in 1925, the remainder of his body is at the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh. Hare disappeared into obscurity. 

Some people took drastic measures to prevent their bodies being stolen. One such device was a mortsafe – a cast iron protective layer. 

Iron mortsafe 1800s (A600162 Pt1, Science Museum, London)

Those with limited means resorted to watching graves and watching over the body until it decayed enough to be of no use to the anatomists. 

For more details have a read of Ruth Richardson’s Death, Dissection and the Destitute.

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Collecting the uncollectable?

November 19th, 2010 | by | anatomy, biology, medicine, new acquisitions, public health

Nov
19

There are some stories you read in the press that you immediately react to as a curator. For me recently it was reading about the first UK Service of Dedication for lives lost to eating disorders that took place at Southwark Cathedral.

Sensing an acquisition in sight, I contacted b-eat - a UK charity for people with eating disorders – to get hold of a copy of the Order of Service.

Recent acquisition. Order of Service from Southwark Cathedral dedicated to lives lost to eating disorders (Credit: Science Museum).

Eating disorders such as Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia Nervosa are such prevalent mental health problems – affecting 1.6 million people in the UK alone – yet such experiences are barely documented through material culture at all.

Part of the problem is that there might not be any objects to collect. Can we document mental health experiences (depression for example) when they seemingly aren’t embodied in objects or expressed through stuff?

Why collect objects to represent such illnesses anyway?

With an anthropological hat on, documenting experiences and reactions to eating disorders reveals a lot about us as a society –  the significance of food and health, perceptions of beauty, and how our bodies respond to stress.

Historically, how societies have treated self-starvation is fascinating. Apollonia Schreier, a German woman, was credited with almost mystical abilities after refusing food for 11 months.

Engraving of Apollonia Schreier by Paullus Lentillus after her alleged fast of 11 months, at Galz, near Berne, 1604. (Source: Wellcome Library)

Of course we can’t treat such experiences as ‘Anorexia’ – the condition didn’t medically exist until the late nineteenth century. But by documenting historical and contemporary experiences through material culture, we can perhaps understand a little better why we treat illnesses today as we do.

A relatively recent mental health phenomenon? As this Lancet case report shows, doctors began to diagnose cases of self-starvation as Anorexia Nervosa towards the end of the nineteenth century. (Source: Wellcome Library)

Perhaps not all human experiences can be told through objects. Yet, I’d argue that material culture has a unique ability to connect you to stories and experiences even at a glance – so I think it’s worth a bit of lateral thinking.

Anyway, here’s a few other objects we could collect on the topic: size zero clothing, the personal effects of an individual who’s experienced an eating disorder (perhaps their weighing scale or diary for instance), self-help manuals, health education material etc. Other thoughts, suggestions or insights most welcome.

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