Mr Pict’s parents flew over the Atlantic to stay with us during the festive season. As such, we had the opportunity for some babysitting so we left the kids with the grandparents so that we could head into Philadelphia for the day. Time alone together as a couple is incredibly rare so what did we do with this brief period of child-free time? We went to the Mütter Museum to look at medical specimens. Ah the romance!
I have wanted to visit the Mütter Museum since we emigrated to the Philly area just over three years ago. However, not being certain of how child-friendly it was, we had not been in a position to go. I am definitely much more into medical oddities than Mr Pict is but he was happy to accompany me to the Museum and check it out.
The Mütter Museum is actually part of the College of Physicians and the original collection was compiled and donated by Dr Thomas Dent Mütter in order to serve as an education tool. The collection is absolutely vast and apparently only 13% of it is on display at any one time. This is no doubt in part because the building is actually pretty small by Museum standards. One exhibition space is essentially just the mezzanine around a staircase, for instance. For obvious reasons – these exhibits being the remains of individual human beings – photography is not permitted within the galleries. I, therefore, decided I would take a sketchbook, pencil and fountain pen along with me so I sketched (which is permitted) as I wandered around. The cramped spaces and the fact that the Museum was so busy made drawing quite awkward, primarily because I found it hard to find a spot that allowed me a good enough view to draw a specimen while not obscuring the views of others but also because ever so often people would gather around me to see what I was drawing and made me feel self-conscious since I was only rattling off rapid sketches.
We started off on the aforementioned mezzanine level. This was organised on a sort of Brothers Grimm theme, connecting medical conditions to some of the grotesque elements of their stories. I thought that was quite an unexpected and interesting theme on which to curate the collection. There were lots of desiccated limbs and the occasional head. We read about dry samples – useful because medical students could actually handle them and information, things like blood vessels, could be written or drawn on them – and wet samples, the type stored in jars of liquid. In addition to the actual human remains, there were casts and wax models of other medical anomalies. Strangely enough, because these actually looked more human, given they were neither shrivelled or bloated by the preservation techniques, they were more disconcerting to look at than the actual human remains. Probably the star attraction on this level were the slides of tissue taken from Einstein’s brain. For me, the most interesting part of that particular exhibit wasn’t the tiny slivers of grey matter but the fact it highlighted the ethics of taking and keeping samples of human tissue. Neither Einstein nor his next of kin had consented to having his brain removed and studied which means that ownership of any of his brain tissue surely violates moral codes if not medical ethics. The case of Einstein’s brain is particularly captivating of course because of his fame and the fact his death was relatively recent. The same moral debate, however, could be applied to probably the majority of specimens held by the Mütter Museum. I very much doubt that most of the people whose bodies or parts are on display consented to be used for medical science and education. This moral quandary added another layer of interest and engagement to our visit.
Probably the most arresting display – for me at least – in the whole museum was a cabinet, the length of one wall, of scores of skulls. Arranged in serried rows in glass cabinets, these skulls were the collection of Joseph Hyrtl, an anatomist from Vienna. Apparently the idea of the collection was to demonstrate the variety evidenced in European anatomy, not eugenics or phrenology, and as such each skull was labelled to identify its origin. What was disconcerting and somewhat unsettling about these labels was that it gave not just the nationality of the individual but in most cases their name, age, and cause of death. It was impossible not to think of the lives behind these skulls, the stories that led to their deaths, the loved ones they left behind to mourn them. In many cases, the deaths were violent ones – either execution or suicide – and so the tragedy was amplified. There were teenagers, for example, who had committed suicide when they were discovered to have committed a theft and I found myself wondering what desperate straits had motivated the crime and what awful crises they must have experienced to feel that the only solution was death. I found I could not just gloss over any single skull. Each of them represented an individual person and I felt this quite powerful obligation to pay my respects to each of them, to acknowledge that each had existed. It was weirdly emotive and I find it quite difficult to convey that mixture of fascination and poignancy.
Given he is a Civil War nerd, Mr Pict enjoyed a gallery devoted to the effects of that bloody conflict on human anatomy. There were the famous photographs of skeletal remains being exhumed from battlefields in order to be interred in cemeteries and the photographs of legs and arms in the baskets of field hospitals but there were also bones containing bullets and shrapnel, intestines scarred from dysentery and preserved organs ravaged with other diseases that felled many soldiers. The Mütter Museum houses a vast collection of books so another exhibition was dedicated to Vesalius, whose writings and drawings became some of the earliest medical textbooks.
The basement floor of the Museum is really where most of the “oddities” are. This is the area of the museum that is really devoted to rare medical anomalies most of us won’t encounter in our lifetimes either because they are so rare or because medical advances would either prevent the conditions or would at least make them treatable. Most challenging for Mr Pict and I were all the specimens of babies, both fetuses and newborns. I imagine very few people would be unmoved by these tiny little bodies in jars or otherwise preserved. However, because we have experienced pregnancy loss and had a stillborn son, these particular specimens were even more emotive for us and stirred up trauma and grief. Mr Pict found it too difficult to spend much time in that area of the museum. I found I could compartmentalise enough to have a read and a look and I even drew one of the conjoined twin skeletons. It was definitely the most difficult part of the museum, however.
I have an interest in the history of freakshows. Among the most famous “freaks” were the conjoined twins, Chang and Eng Bunker whose origins in what is now Thailand originated the term “Siamese Twins”. The Mütter Museum possesses a death cast of Chang and Eng’s heads and torsos and their conjoined liver because the College of Physicians conducted the autopsy when the men died in the 1870s. Those were interesting to see since I have read so much about Chang and Eng. There were also some fascinating osteological specimens. These include the tallest skeleton on exhibit in America, that of a man who stood at 7’6″ tall. His remains were contrasted with those of a dwarf who had died in childbirth. There is also the skeleton of a man named Harry Eastlack who succumbed to a condition called FOP which caused all of his issues to ossify. He had actually donated his body to the collection to aid research into his medical condition and potentially benefit others.
Mr Pict and I both found at least one thing each in the Mütter Museum that made us squeamish. In common with many of the male visitors, the genital specimens made Mr Pict feel a little uncomfortable. Among these was a plaster cast of a hugely swollen scrotum. Every man I observed looking into that particular case appeared to wince. For me it was the eyeballs. One glass case contained row upon row of wax models of eyes suffering from various maladies, diseases and injuries. Not much about the human body makes me squirm but I definitely do not like anything to do with eyeballs. The last time I was prescribed eyedrops, all four children had to pin me down while Mr Pict dripped them into my eyes. That is how much I detest anything to do with eyeballs. I definitely felt decidedly queasy looking at all of those eyeballs.
Our trip to Philadelphia was not all body parts, however. After our excursion to the Mütter Museum, we were (maybe somewhat peculiarly) ravenous so we went for lunch in a Mexican restaurant. It was a definite treat to eat a delicious lunch without having to wrangle kids. Great food while relaxing with wonderful company – uninterrupted – was the perfect end to a lovely and fascinating day out.
A Pict in PA 