The Anatomist - Bill Hayes [85]
Though this is my first time in London, the sights I most want to see are not on the standard double-decker bus tour. I therefore have come with my own set of maps—nineteenth-century and present-day—and, as important, my own personal map reader and navigator, Steve. As for my lab partner, I have left Kolja in the capable hands of Meri during my week away.
After crashing heavily, Steve and I caffeinate heavily and head straight to Hyde Park Corner. Here, the Grand Entrance of Hyde Park meets the Wellington Arch meets the western edges of Green Park and Buckingham Palace Garden. Here, tourists stop dead in their tracks and wrestle with ill-folded maps, Steve and I being no exception in this regard. Here, we find St. George’s Hospital.
From the outside, the structure looks almost exactly as it does in early nineteenth-century engravings, and the hospital name remains chiseled in the cornice. But if there are any doctors inside, they are on vacation; the building is now a luxury hotel. We cross to the north side of the busy intersection to get a better angle for a picture.
St. George’s Hospital, as it appeared in Henry Gray’s Day
Henry Gray spent sixteen years in that building, nearly half his life, I tell myself as Steve gets artsy with his new digital camera. No, make that fifteen and a half years, if you subtract the six months with the Duke of Sutherland. Gray, I recall, returned from his leave and resumed his St. George’s duties on the first of December 1857, at which point the anatomy book was well into the production stage. Early the previous month, in fact, John Parker Jr. (the son in John W. Parker and Son) had informed the author and the artist of a problem with the engravings: some of the woodcuts were too large for the book. In Carter’s account, perhaps overly self-castigating, he and Parker shared blame for the error. “His neglect is as great as my ignorance at least. Gray will clear himself.” To the satisfaction of all three, fortunately, a solution of some sort was found, and production proceeded without further delay. By the time Carter left for India, Gray was likely already reading page proofs, as the book was set to be released in August, just six months away.
With the writing behind him, Gray could recommit himself to one of his long-standing responsibilities—serving on the St. George’s board of governors, which, in a roundabout way, would end up having a profound impact on his romantic life. At the March 24, 1858, board meeting, he and the other governors approved the hiring of a new assistant apothecary named Hugh Wynter, and it was likely through young Hugh that Gray was introduced to Miss Elizabeth Wynter, Hugh’s sister, who in time would become Henry’s fiancée.
The same building as it appears today
The longer I stare at the building, the more distracted I become by the cars and buses and traffic lights. But going inside the hotel ends up being a big mistake—like accidentally deleting an entire file of pictures on your computer. In these plush surroundings, it is no longer possible to envision any part of Henry Gray’s life having taken place here.
Steve and I decide to take a walk.
Ten minutes, four blocks, and three map consultations later, we stand just outside the covered entryway to what was once No. 9 Kinnerton Street (the street name and numbering have long since been changed). The building itself is set about half a block back from the road. Though the weathered brick exterior is definitely original, we can tell that the spacious, vaulted anatomy lab on the top floor no longer exists, perhaps a victim of the Blitz or simply renovations. The building now houses posh residential flats.
We walk through