Eighteenth century Scottish surgeon and anatomist John Hunter made trailblazing contributions to both fields, including performing one of the first instances of artificially inseminating a woman. But he is perhaps best known today as an inveterate collector who acquired, dissected and preserved human and animal tissues from all corners of Earth.
All in all, Hunter, who lived from 1728 to 1793, filled more than 14,000 specimen jars. Most have been lost over the years, including more than 10,000 destroyed by the bombing of London during the Second World War. But many of those that remain tell poignant stories, from a tiny crocodile hatchling emerging from its egg to a man’s bullet-perforated anatomy. Together with objects from Hunter’s London homes and items such as surgical saws, hammers and retractors, roughly 2,000 of these surviving specimens form the centrepiece of the Hunterian Museum in London, which reopened in its home at the Royal College of Surgeons of England on 16 May after a six-year, £4.6-million (US$5.8-million) refurbishment.
But drastically different ethics now underpin Hunter’s artefacts, how they were collected and their display — uncomfortable facts that the reimagined museum explicitly acknowledges. For example, one wall features portraits of people of different races who at the time had gained celebrity status as human curiosities. These portaits were originally displayed alongside human and animal specimens in Hunter’s home in London’s Leicester Square. There is some speculation that he invited some of those portrayed to his house, and Hunter’s work explored human variation, which influenced later racial theories. Kemp acknowledges that the Hunterian was a place “where some of those closely involved in the Western ‘colonial project’ developed sinister and awful ideas on racial theory”.
The gallery’s introductory panel notes that Hunter gathered his specimens before modern standards of consent were established. The concept of an ethical review board was as alien to Hunter as ‘body-snatching’, the gruesome practice through which he procured many remains, is to viewers today. “We recognise the debt owed to those people — named and unnamed — who in life and death have helped to advance medical knowledge,” it reads.
Rather than choosing not to display items whose provenance is uncertain, Kemp’s team has tried to address this legacy by making the effort to research and show the names of previously anonymous people. “We had to have these people represented to be able to understand and tell their story,” she says. The museum has, however, removed from display the 2.3-metre skeleton of the ‘Irish Giant’ Charles Byrne, whose remains Hunter acquired at his death in 1783 for a rumoured £500, despite Byrne’s wish to be buried at sea.