Part 18

Wren had been born and bred among men who, from their position, took a lively interest in political affairs; and, in spite of his multifarious duties, he was far from declining such distinction in that sphere as was not likely to interfere with his professional pursuits. He was indebted to the people of Plympton――the native place of Sir Joshua Reynolds――for his first election to the House of Commons, in 1685. After the Revolution he was returned for New Windsor, and became a great favorite with that daughter of the banished king who then shared the English throne with her Dutch consort. She admired his genius, and perhaps appreciated the affection which he entertained for the kingly race whose errors had been her husband’s opportunity. Being pleased with the situation and scenery of Hampton Court, she commissioned the architect, who had done honor to the patronage of her merry uncle and her gloomy sire, to furnish designs for a splendid palace, to be connected with the pile which Cardinal Wolsey had reared and made over to the bluff Killer of Wives and Defender of the Faith. The queen was presented with several designs, and selected one which did credit to her character for taste and elegance, but the sanction of the royal Dutchman was required before she could finally decide. That great prince and soldier was a hero, though, unfortunately for his fame, one of no very scrupulous nature; and heroes are generally men of one design. If the question had been how to raise in England funds to carry on the war against France, his judgment would hardly have erred; but the construction of a palace was a different matter; and he chose and stuck by the very plan which had been prepared as a foil to the others. The queen was forced to yield, and the architect sighed at being thus obliged to erect a palace of which he disliked the plan; but regret could produce no remedy for the evil, and the work was proceeded with. He next designed Greenwich Hospital, and during the reign of Queen Anne he continued to enjoy from that royal lady a favor and protection not unworthy of a grand-daughter of Charles the First.

The distinguished architect, however, had not pursued his prosperous course without making enemies; and the time at length arrived when they could gratify their hoarded malice. When the first representative of the House of Brunswick left his delightful Electorate to ascend the throne of Great Britain, Wren was in his eighty-second year; and though so often thwarted in his designs during three reigns by citizens, and kings, and commissioners, he had done wonders, and on every side there were traces of his rare and fertile genius. The new sovereign, however, was almost as devoid of taste or capacity as he was destitute of virtue or popularity; and, from the beginning, he regarded the venerable architect with an inimical eye. After a lapse of four years the public learned, with astonishment and indignation, that Sir Christopher was dismissed from his office, and replaced by a wretched pretender, to whose undistinguished name Pope has given a somewhat unenviable notoriety.

The old knight had lived too long, and seen too much of the world, in a most eventful age, to be very deeply affected by this circumstance; though the insult touched his friends to the heart. He removed from his official residence in Scotland Yard, and betook himself to rural retirement. He had long survived his first wife; and not relishing a prolonged widowerhood, he sought and found a second bride in the daughter of a peer of Ireland. He now took a house at Hampton Court, where he passed the greater part of his remaining years in study and contemplation of the Holy Scriptures, which cheered his solitude and consoled him in his preparation for a higher state of existence. He indulged in a sleep in his easy chair after dinner, maintained the utmost serenity, and exhibited all his wonted vivacity. Gradually his limbs, which had been active, failed; and his movements thus became dependent on the assistance of others. Now and then he rejoiced in a visit to the metropolis, to inspect the repairs of Westminster Abbey, and look once more on the dome of St. Paul’s. His intellect remained unimpaired long after his bodily vigor had ceased. A journey between London and Hampton Court, then a more formidable affair to a person of advanced age than it has since become, proved more than his frame could endure, and, after a short illness, he died on the 27th of February, 1723. His corpse was consigned to the vaults of the magnificent cathedral, which stands alike the monument and the master-piece of his architectural genius, as his most appropriate epitaph is the brief inscription which has been alluded to at the commencement of this sketch. Sixty-nine years later the surrounding earth was disturbed on the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds; and the mortal remains of the illustrious painter, whose magic pencil had redeemed Englishmen from the reproach of being indebted to foreign nations for artistic skill, were, with much pomp and circumstance, laid by the side of the great architect, in the consecrated cemetery.

DR. WILLIAM HUNTER.

The name of Hunter is still of high account in the profession, which was raised and adorned by the talents and virtues of the two brothers. Indeed it is as inseparably connected with the progress of medical science in Great Britain, as is that of Wren with architecture, or that of Erskine with trial by jury. The career of the elder of the distinguished brothers is well worthy of attention, and eminently calculated to stimulate industry.

Dr. Hunter was not only a Scotchman, but to some extent a patriot; and an adventurer of mark or likelihood from that country, without a genealogy, would be like the year without the spring, or like the spring without the flowers. It serves to support his pride, and to sustain him in his poverty. In this respect the great physician was not deficient, his grandfather having been a younger son of Hunter of Hunterstone, chief of the name. Moreover, the parentage of this eminent man was respectable; for about the beginning of last century his father resided, in all the pride of territorial dignity, on the small hereditary estate of Long Calderwood, in the county of Lanark. The laird was, no doubt, a frugal-enough swain, with ideas as old-fashioned as the language in which they were expressed; but who lacked not sagacity, nor a stout heart and a strong hand. He had need of such qualities; for, however barren or the reverse might have been his acres, it appears that “the leddy,” though doubtless exemplary and diligent in “doubling his joys and all his cares dividing,” was, if any thing, inconveniently prolific; for with alarming rapidity, as years glided on, he was presented with no less than half a score of children――a progeny surely large enough, in all conscience, to daunt the bravest speculator on the probabilities of the future.

In the rustic abode, most likely one of those “thatched mansions” at that period commonly the residence of the lesser proprietors of the soil of North Britain, on the 23d of the merry month of May, 1718――if, indeed, all seasons were not then alike in that impoverished country, where, in the words of the clever but clumsy satirist,

“No flowers embalmed the air but one white rose, Which on the tenth of June by instinct blows,”――

William Hunter, destined to be one of the most famous of medical practitioners, anatomists, and lecturers, was born and swaddled, with the usual form and ceremony. He was the seventh child of his parents; and ten years later, in the same place, appeared his brother, who is styled “the Prophet of the Healing Art,” and whose wise countenance, as portrayed by the potent pencil of Reynolds, made Lavater exclaim――“That man thinks for himself!”

Young Willie was, no doubt, a shrewd, grave, talented boy, whose time was divided between learning that quantity of Latin prescribed by statute to the son of every owner of a portion of Caledonian soil, however stern and wild, poor or paltry, it might be. Indeed, in his case there was another reason for attention to classical learning, it being originally intended that the Church of Scotland should have the benefit of the talents and abilities with which Nature had blessed him. Sir Robert Walpole boasted over his cups that, if the intention of his taking orders had been carried into effect, he would have one day been Archbishop of Canterbury; and had Hunter applied his intellect as vigorously to the study of divinity and Scottish ecclesiastical affairs as he did to those of the profession of which he became so eminent a member, he might possibly have climbed to the position, earned the fame, and exercised the influence, of an Erskine, a Blair, or a Chalmers. It was otherwise appointed:

“Scire potestates herbarum, usumque medendi Maluit, et mutas agitare inglorias artes.”

At the distance of a mile and a half from his paternal mansion stood the village of Kilbride; and there, in the school-room belonging to the parish, some “Dominie Sampson,” whose sayings and doings have been consigned to oblivion, imparted instruction with a stentorian voice, and flourished the odious leathern scourge, before which many an erring urchin has shrunk, and winked, and howled. To this establishment, in all probability, would Hunter travel daily, on the back of a donkey or shaggy pony, with a wallet on his shoulder; save when, to his heart’s delight, a fall of rain or a snow-storm afforded a decent pretext for remaining at home, and making his escape at noon to the weekly market, or to one of the four parochial fairs held during the year.

At the customary age he was sent to the University of Glasgow; and no doubt, as it would likely be his first visit, gazed with wonder on such buildings as were there to be seen. The place was then very different from what it has since become. But to a boy, who hitherto had witnessed no scene more striking than a rural fair, who had only dreamt of greater things while reposing on a summer’s day by the margin of some haunted and murmuring streamlet, or while driving the cows in the gloaming to the modest grange, the venerable precincts of the college and of the ancient cathedral, described with so much felicity in the pages of “Rob Roy;” the battlemented mansion, that had lately been the residence of an archbishop; the tall masts of the vessels that had brought colonial produce to an extending market; and last, though not least, the Exchange, whose covered pavement was traversed by those proud “Virginians”――the aristocracy of tobacco――who wrapped themselves closer in their red cloaks, shook their flowing wigs, grasped more firmly their long gold-headed canes, and raised their eyes with haughty stare, when any inquisitive stranger approached the scene of their operations, must have seemed grand indeed.

Hunter now commenced his theological studies; and the sagacious sire rejoiced in the prospect of seeing his son “wagging his head in a pulpit.” But after a term of five years an obstacle to pursuing his course occurred, which could not be overcome without outraging his conscientious convictions. In fact, he entertained an insuperable repugnance to some of the articles of faith to which he was required to assent; and, sacrificing whatever prospects of preferment he had on the shrine of duty, he resolved to venture upon a new field, and make medicine and the art of healing the study and occupation of his life. He was still a boy, “showing a maiden chin,” without that wisdom which is commonly, but not seldom erroneously, supposed to lurk about the beard; and it can not be questioned but that hope would extravagantly gild any future that his fancy might conjure up. Yet, strongly as he might have felt within him the spirit and the faculty to ascend the hill of life, and wave his cocked hat in triumph from its summit, he could hardly contemplate such enviable success as it was his good fortune to seek and find. Little, it may be well conceived, could he foresee how rapidly he was to emerge from obscurity, and be recognized as one of the most celebrated votaries to a profession at once delicate and laborious in that illimitable city of which, at his father’s hearth, he had heard wondrous tales and accounts exciting curiosity.

Meantime, returning to his native district in 1737, he formed an intimacy with Dr. Cullen. This afterward celebrated man was a native of Hamilton. He had received an ordinary Scotch education, served an apprenticeship to an apothecary, and made several voyages in a vessel trading to the East Indies in the capacity of surgeon. He had commenced practice in a Lanarkshire parish, the clergyman of which had married Hunter’s sister; and at the manse of his brother-in-law doubtless our hero made Cullen’s acquaintance. The conversation of the latter exercised a mighty influence on the mind of his new friend; and when he had settled as a practitioner at Hamilton, a small town situated on the Clyde, Hunter entered into a sort of partnership with him. They even meditated it being of a permanent nature; but subsequent events rendered such a scheme altogether inexpedient, and it was abandoned with advantage to both. Nevertheless, it was pursued for years with mutual profit. Being equally and earnestly desirous of improvement, they agreed that each should pass a winter at one of the colleges, while the other should remain and attend to the patients who relied on the establishment for medical aid. Cullen’s seniority gave him the privilege of taking the first session; and so signal was his progress, that he was enabled to impart valuable information to his young associate. After a season, they parted in friendship, to divide the world between them; and while his former companion in arms was winning metropolitan honors and achieving innocent, though not bloodless victories, Cullen was by no means shrinking from the exertions which establish a reputation. Hunter seems to have disdained the company of a fair being to comfort and console him in his way through this troublesome world; but his northern friend and contemporary was not so remiss or self-denying. He forthwith strengthened his position by taking to wife the daughter of some neighboring worthy; but his abilities were not to be confined within narrow limits. He attracted the notice of men of pride and nobility――was patronized by the ducal houses of Hamilton and Argyle――filled professorial chairs in Glasgow and Edinburgh――influenced, in no inconsiderable degree, the opinion of medical men as to the science of physic――exhibited delightful amiability in private life; and, leaving behind several works to vindicate the high estimation in which he was held, he breathed his last in peace and prosperity. Having thus briefly sketched Cullen’s career, let us return to mark the footsteps of his redoubted countryman in pursuit of wealth and eminence.

Hunter went, in his turn, to the romantic capital of Scotland, and attended the lectures of several professors of distinction. In the year 1711 he set off to gratify his eyes with a sight of London, having obtained an introduction from a printer in Glasgow to James Douglas, who, as a surgeon and teacher of anatomy, had fattened in the rich South. This individual had early emigrated, but had not altogether lost his sentiments of nationality; and he had, perhaps, a keen eye to his own interests. Besides, he was a man of mark, and the author of several works of merit. He is spoken of by Pope and Harwood as an enthusiastic collector of the various editions of Horace, and eulogized by Haller for the art and ingenuity of his anatomical preparations. Doubtless at that date there were presented fewer letters recommending raw Scottish lads to the notice of their enriched countrymen, than when Wilkie charmingly depicted a similar ceremony. In any case, Douglas gave the young aspirant a gracious reception, and asked him to repeat his visit. Being engaged at the time with an elaborate treatise on the bones, he was anxious to enlist the services of some trustworthy youth as a dissector, and perceived that Hunter had the sense and acuteness requisite to qualify him for the situation. He therefore courteously invited our hero to live in his house, assist in his dissections, and superintend the education of his son.

When the curious and adulating Boswell had his cherished hopes crowned by an introduction, in the parlor of Tom Davies, to the great man whom he had long worshiped at a distance, and nervously blurted out, “I do indeed come from Scotland, but I can not help it,” Johnson said with truth. “That, sir, is what a great many of your countrymen can not help.” Such, however, was not the case with Hunter, who had sufficient influence to achieve a respectable position at home if he had wished. The offer of Douglas was, nevertheless, tempting. He requested time to consider it; and going to the house of a practitioner with whom he was staying in Pall Mall, he wrote to his partner and to his father on the subject. Cullen immediately approved of his accepting the post; but the laird, who was in his seventy-eighth year, and looked upon a journey to London as a most formidable affair, was already impatient for his son’s return, and was with no small difficulty prevailed on to give his consent. Matters were at length accommodated; and Hunter took up his quarters under the roof of Douglas as pupil and assistant, and entered vigorously upon his new duties.

This was, unquestionably, an auspicious commencement of his career; for his patron was high in his profession, a Fellow of the Royal Society, and Reader of Anatomy to the Company of Surgeons. Besides, public opinion was not yet violently excited against the inhabitants of the sterile north. The “silver-tongued Mansfield” had, it is true, ridden from Perthshire to Middlesex, “drunk champagne with the wits,” and distinguished himself at the bar; but he was not yet lord chief justice nor an English peer. Wedderburn had not yet crossed the Tweed to grasp successfully at the great seal. Lord Bute had still to be pulled out of the apothecary’s chariot at a cricket-match to play at whist with, and become the favorite of, Frederick Prince of Wales. On the other hand, Wilkes had not indulged in what Lord Chatham called “the expensive delights” of contested elections, nor in the profanity and licentiousness of Medenham Abbey. His services as embassador to Constantinople had to be declined, and “The North Briton” to be called into existence to avenge the slight. Poor, deluded Churchill, was sitting on the forms at Westminster with Lloyd, Cowper, and Warren Hastings. The time had to come when he could “blaze the comet of a season,” by applying such terms as “the poor, proud children of leprosy and hunger,” to the natives of an ancient and noble land, whose powers he did not comprehend, and whose achievements in art, science, law, letters, and commerce, he possessed not the prescience to divine. The events of 1745 had yet to fill the citizens of London with anger and apprehension; national animosity had still to be excited to madness by public appointments being almost exclusively bestowed on bare-legged Highlanders. Hunter was, in some respects, an adventurer, and one of whom his country had reason to be proud; but it was well that he arrived and struck his root in public favor before the frenzied cry had gone forth.

Douglas was not disappointed in the expectations he had formed of his assistant’s worth and ability, which he stimulated in various ways. He enabled him to enter as a dissecting pupil at St. George’s Hospital, and to attend a class for anatomy, besides a course of lectures on experimental philosophy, given by Dr. Desaguliers; and Hunter availed himself so earnestly of such advantages, and became so expert in dissection, that his excellent instructor was at the expense of having several of his preparations engraved. This aid, so well calculated to afford encouragement, was rendered just in time; for within twelve months after Hunter’s spirited expedition southward his employer died; and having apparently married past middle age, he left a widow and two children, with whom his talented _protégé_ continued to reside for the next eight years.

In 1743, Hunter, ever aspiring and energetic, contributed a paper on the structure and diseases of the cartilages to the “Philosophical Transactions;” and, three years later, was appointed Lecturer to the Society of Naval Surgeons. For the first course he received seventy guineas, which was the largest sum ever in his possession up to that date, as he declared when carrying it to his lodgings, in a bag, under his cloak. But he had not yet learned prudence; and the amount was soon reduced to such dimensions, that he was reluctantly compelled to postpone the second course for a fortnight, from want of the money to pay for advertising them. This circumstance taught him, after a somewhat stern fashion, that in worldly affairs caution and economy are essential elements of success. In 1747 he became a Member of the College of Surgeons; and, next year, went to Leyden. There the anatomical preparations of Albinus inspired him with enthusiastic admiration, and he was fired with the worthy ambition of emulating their excellence. On returning to this country he commenced practice as a surgeon.

As a medical practitioner, with anxious and laborious duties in the widest of all fields――the metropolis of England――Hunter was conspicuously successful; and, in truth, there are few more responsible occupations. The person to whom is raised the vail which conceals the privacy of domestic life from the public eye, exercises no small influence on multitudes of his fellow-creatures. His aid is invoked to relieve bodily and mental suffering in seasons of distress and perplexity. Lives are confided to his skill, and the peace of families to his honor. To society, therefore, his character and conduct are matters of no inconsiderable interest. Hunter showed himself eminently, and in all respects, worthy of his position. He displayed remarkable tact in winning the confidence of his patients; and, even when he gave signs of being more than ordinarily doubtful of success in his efforts on their behalf, anxious friends and relatives placed implicit reliance on his tried skill and sagacious judgment. His merit and ability were speedily recognized by election to important offices in two hospitals, being recommended thereto by the most eminent surgeons of the day. His manner and personal appearance contributed much to his success, and he began to distance all competitors in the field which he gradually chose for the exercise of his skill and experience. In 1750 the degree of Doctor of Medicine was bestowed on him by the University of Glasgow; and in the summer of the next year he visited his native district, where time had wrought considerable changes among his relations.