Figure 1. Actias luna-male Luna Moth
Figure 2. Papilio machaon Swallowtail Butterfly
Figure 3. Parnassius apollo Apollo (Mountain Apollo) Butterfly
Figure 4. Pomponia imperatoria Empress Cicada
I am making notable improvements in my illustrations. What a reprieve from words and lectures. I can study, think, and relax more while taking care to lavish in the solitude of drawing.
Spencer Black also wrote about many of the insects and plants that he studied. He was particularly interested in insects that underwent a metamorphosis. The process of transformation fascinated the young scientist, and he often sketched the cicada and made regular mention of it in his journals and letters.
November 22, 1869
In the summer, when the cicadas emerge from the ground, they transform into a winged insect, sing their song, mate, lay eggs, and soon die. The pupae hatch from their eggs in a tree then fall to the ground and burrow deep into the earth, where they live for more than a decade.
Such evanescence; to emerge from the ground after such a long time and then transform, gaining wings. They are born once again from the womb of their own body, which is abandoned as an empty shell, and then they leave the world. This type of metamorphosis (though not as dramatic as that of the butterfly or moth, in a superficial context) is, in my esteem, one of the more significant. After such a long time in darkness, we can live for only a short while.
* * *
December 1, 1869
I have become interested in a different assignment given to me by Professor Jean DeLain. He needs several illustrations of small and curious insects illustrated for a book he is compiling; the insects gathered are all dead, carefully packed and pinned. They have arrived from many locations of the world: Guinea, the Malaysian islands, Africa and Asia. It is exciting to study the smallest differences in their particular designs. There is little separation between man and insect, save the marvels solely unique to their respective functions in nature.
Figure 1. The pupa stage, freshly emerged from the ground.
Figure 2. The insect emerges from its shell, reborn. It waits to gain its strength.
Figure 3. Now fully developed, the cicada can fly away, sing its song, mate, and the cycle can repeat.
1870
WARD C
The sustainable body of scientific evidence is derived
from the contractions made by the objective observer,
not the parroting of the learned scholar.
—Dr. Spencer Black
By the end of his second year at the academy, Spencer was devoting all his time to the mysteries of the human body. He attended as many dissections as possible, whether they were hosted by the academy or by neighboring institutions. It’s highly likely that he also performed dissections of his own; some believe that Spencer employed the lessons learned from his childhood to locate and dig up fresh cadavers for research. He never wrote about those experiences, however.
By this time, Bernard had finished his studies and traveled to New York to begin a successful career with the New York Society of Science, but his accomplishments would soon be dwarfed by those of his brother. Even by the age of nineteen, Spencer Black had cemented his reputation as one of the country’s brightest young scientists. His motivation, drive, and passion for research are all evident in his journal entries of the year 1870.
February 1870
I am working now, ceaselessly, with no apparent results. I have come to believe there is something greater to learn about anatomy, something more meaningful than a simple physical mutation or flaw in human growth or development. Thus far, in my embryonic research, I cannot discover the source or even the impetus for such mutations. They aren’t sensible; something must be explained or understood prior to their acceptance. We as scientists, physicians, sophists, do not allow such nonsense as god and monsters to infect our logic.
A man walks, he talks, he attacks and he parries. He does all of these wondrous things; and yet some persist in being born unable to do any of them.
I cannot assume that I am going to discover any cause as to why children can be born without arms or why twins are born fused together—why extra fingers and toes can grow, or none can grow at all. Why does the human form exist so? Why not another arrangement? As soon as I can understand this, I will move forward.
I must know why five fingers are intended before I can discover the cause of six.
The questions regarding nature’s ability to malfunction disturb me greatly. I never believed in the delineation of God or nature, only that certain laws maintain—one of which is function. I’ve wrestled with the fallibility of this perfect organism—our body. How can the body, being designed and charged to a specific task, mutate and abandon its function without the fulfillment of another one? These are fundamental principles that cannot be merely glanced at and then disregarded while using barbaric words like “deformed” or “diseased.” Simply stating that an object is in disrepair does not allow that object the benefit of a new identity. I now set out to examine the very seed that is the cause of my vexing: Why can the body mutate?
In the spring of 1870, Black began a special surgical program at the Academy of Medicine that was dedicated to the research and improvement of operable birth defects: it was the first of its kind. The intention was to learn how to help those who were afflicted with various deformities, and perhaps to prevent the deformities in future births. Since Joseph Warren Denkel was already mentoring Black, the elder scientist was tasked with overseeing the operation. Also participating was Dr. Joab A. Holace, an American physician renowned for his work on embryonic research and conjoined twins. Black was immediately impressed with Dr. Holace, as is clear from his journal entry dated May 1870:
I have attended lectures of his before and was impressed with his oratory prowess—remarks he simply uttered without consideration resonated as profound revelations. His thoughts seemed preformed, as though he had carefully composed them the night prior but he then gave them out freely, like a wealthy man tossing unwanted change to paupers. There is much to gain from him.
The academy granted the team the use of a separate operating room on the third floor, where there was plenty of light, privacy, and space. This special laboratory would later be known only as Ward C. Privileged with the newest technology—microscopes, chemicals, and tools—Ward C became famous for being one of the most advanced scientific research spaces in the world. It was certainly unique in its specialty.
The team consisted of Denkel (Ward C’s administrator), two surgeons (Drs. Black and Holace), and two specialists in human mutations. Their first operation was performed on June 3, 1870. The patient was a young man whose fingers were fused together, a condition known as ectrodactyly, or lobster’s claw, because of the hands’ appearance. This operation was relatively simple and resulted in success. Later that same summer, the team operated on a young girl born with polydactyly, a condition wherein digits or limbs are duplicated. The young girl had an additional right arm fused directly above her natural right arm, spanning its length from shoulder to fingertips. She appeared to have one large right forearm but eight right fingers and two right thumbs. In a matter of hours the surgeons were able to remove the parasitic arm; the patient healed well. The success of the surgery was published in medical journals throughout the United States and was read via articles in the international press; Dr. Spencer Black was gaining popularity, and his work was considered remarkable.
In the fall of 1870, Black published his controversial paper “The Perfect Human.” It states that man is merely the sum of his evolutionary parts. Black claimed that humankind has been “assembled” over time, with occasional pieces added and—more importantly—occasional pieces removed. Unlike the traditionally accepted theories of evolution and natural selection, Black’s view stressed that mutations are not accidents; instead, they are the body attempting to grow what it once had thousands of years ago. According to Black, this was the only soluti
on to the dilemmas of teratology (the scientific study of congenital abnormalities and abnormal formations). He argued: “From where else can the knowledge arrive? The body cannot grow something without knowing how.”
Among the paper’s most controversial claims was the idea that many so-called mythological creatures were in fact real species that once walked the earth. Black further argued that remnants of these creatures sometimes manifested themselves in latent traits, that is, genetic mutations. Dr. Holace, Black’s fellow surgeon, strongly disagreed with this claim; it was the beginning of what would become a bitter rivalry.
Despite the negative attention, Black went on to publish two additional papers. One discussed the physical memories of blood, bile, and plasma; the other was a research piece on the mutations of children and how their bodies cope with the changes of growth into adulthood. Both papers included illustrations.
In just a few months’ time, news of the extraordinary work being performed in Ward C had spread throughout the global medical community. Soon, the doctors were receiving letters of accommodation and invitations to lecture from all parts of the world. The ward’s success in surgery and research had propelled Black into the public arena: he was integral to the reasons for its success.
1871–1877
MARRIAGE AND
TRANSFORMATION
Doctors are not gods; but we do their work.
—Dr. Spencer Black
Spencer Black completed his schooling with the highest of honors. Nearing international fame at the remarkably young age of twenty, the precocious doctor was considered an extremely attractive prospect among Philadelphia’s most elite families.
Black met Elise Chardelle while she was visiting the academy undertaking research for an anthropological thesis on evolution and natural selection. Little is known about her, but Black’s notes suggest that she was attractive, had been well educated, and came from a prosperous family in Chicago. They fell in love almost immediately, and after just three months of courtship the couple married in June 1871.
Unprepared and without having intended to, I proposed marriage.
I do not know how to say what I feel, but it is wonderful.
Through his work in Ward C, Black was earning a substantial salary, and he purchased a rather large home near the academy. In the spring of 1872, Elise gave birth to their first child, Alphonse. He was born healthy and would grow to continue his father’s legacy.
Portrait of Elise Chardelle, 1871. Written on the back of the drawing is the following note: Dearest Elise, As the sun sets now I write this, filled with love and hope for you and a life we will share. I will forever abide, in my heart and by your side, to the love I have for you. Forever yours, Spencer
Portrait of Alphonse Edward Black. This is the only known image of Alphonse. The handwritten caption reads: My son Alphonse sleeping. S. Black. 1872.
On March 1, 1872, nine months less four days from the date of our marriage, my son, Alphonse, was born in the season of the cicadas.
The medical community and the country as a whole were excited and hopeful for the potential demonstrated by the work being performed in Ward C. The school grounds were overfilled with students, and the academy had to change its curriculum and admittance policies to adapt to its quickly rising prestige. By 1873, applications to the school numbered in the tens of thousands.
Unfortunately, Ward C’s successful run was interrupted by the arrival of a nine-year-old patient named Meredith Anne Heath. The girl was born with a parasitic twin; she had an additional two legs and an arm extending from her abdomen. She had traveled with her family from Colorado to Ward C to receive an operation. Only a few minutes into the surgical procedure, complications arose; after forty-five minutes of extremely painful surgery, Meredith died. Although Dr. Holace claimed culpability for the tragedy, it was deemed unpreventable, uncontrollable, and unforeseeable by the academy’s medical council. Black shared in the feelings of guilt.
March 12, 1873
It was not my knife, but lo, were we not all present at the death? I cannot accept that we could not have prevented the very thing we caused. We cut her, and the blood spilled out. It’s the very opposite of what I intended: I wish to deal in salvation, not death. Her family, parents, and brothers returned home. A shroud and maybe a coffin with a little stain, if they can afford it, will carry the child. What manner of physician shall I become? How often will I encounter death?
The loss had a strong effect on Black, and his relationship with his colleagues seemed shaken. It was the latest in a long series of disagreements with his onetime mentor, Dr. Joab A. Holace.
I suppose I can understand his strict and linear approach to medical science, but I believe the journal of laws needs to be held lightly so that one may easily read from it when needed, but may also let go and be freed from its weight in an instant.
Black resented the failure, and (for reasons not entirely clear) he blamed Holace and the staff of Ward C for the girl’s death. It is possible that Black was wrestling with personal issues; he wrote often of nightmares and nervousness, both of which may have contributed to the failure of his professional relationships.
Again, I dreamt last night that a cadaver was brought into the dissection theater. When the cloth was lifted from the body, I saw the sunken face of my father. Then, in their aprons, they began cutting and removing pieces of him; when they finished, everyone left the auditorium. I looked and saw that he was dead but his organs remained alive—his vibrant heart trembling, his kidneys excreting fluid. And then I awoke.
In the fall of 1874, Black suffered the anguish of death once again—only this time, it arrived close to home. His wife, Elise, bore another child, Elizabeth, who tragically succumbed only a few days later to organ failure. By all accounts, Black was devastated by the loss.
Yet he continued his work in Ward C. Over the next four years, from 1874 through 1878, Black consistently proved himself an asset to his colleagues and made tremendous advancements in grafting, vivisection, and correctional surgery. These achievements raised the reputation of the academy to unparalleled heights.
Never before has a medical arts center delivered on so many of their optimistic promises as has the Academy of Medicine in Philadelphia. The young student is certain to gain a qualified and most beneficial education while studying within those walls.
—Alfred J. J. Strong, M.D., New York
Elise gave birth to another child, Victor, in the winter of 1876, but the boy’s arrival scarcely merits a mention in Black’s journals. The doctor, now twenty-five years old, was changing. Once energetic, he had become morose and cynical; many claimed that his eccentric and erratic behavior made him an increasingly difficult personality. He also suffered from a volatile temper and a quick impatience with differing opinions. The burgeoning strength in his convictions that had made him famous only a few years earlier was now working against him; his reputation at the academy and even his prosperity were in jeopardy. Still, his devotion to his research never flagged. He was so busy that he began to neglect his friends, family, and professional obligations to the academy.
The frost of autumn becomes the storm of winter. I cannot rest my mind in a place of tranquil thought. I am left to contemplate my childhood and drudge through its ugliness. I would be very pleased with a warm spring day and a sun-soaked room to work in, instead of this wet and grayed tapestry of nature’s dead season. Perhaps my spirits would be lifted if the faces I see daily were not also gray and dead.
During 1877, his last year in Ward C, Black worked less and less at the academy while devoting increasing amounts of his attention to private studies. He developed new, polarizing ideas regarding evolution that would ultimately separate him from the rest of the scientific community. At twenty-six years of age, he wrote notes and theories entertaining the notion that through evolution and certain paths of natural selection, humans had lost some of their natural and necessary traits. The lack of these critical elements, he believed, resulted i
n mutations and deformities.
Furthermore, Black speculated that perhaps the human being is not the best result of evolution; perhaps our ancestors shared traits with some of the ancient animals or, more accurately, ancient mythological animals. Black claimed that scientific evidence proving the existence of ancient mythological animals had been concealed by unnamed parties; taxonomy records were destroyed, constellation records were changed, fairy tales were altered and rewritten, all in an attempt to ignore our true history. Though Black never blamed anyone specifically for this grand conspiracy, it seems he had a certain individual (or individuals) in mind.
All of Ward C’s success and recognition appeared inconsequential to Dr. Black; he seemed to believe that the culmination of his work was incomplete. In this journal entry he had already resigned himself to pursue his less-popular theories, even though he had no idea how to do so. It would take an unexpected encounter at a carnival sideshow before he would fully mature into the study of teratology.
July 1877
And now, in the dawn of great discoveries, the dreary and rotten can be laid to the wayside. I must plow forward and continue my work, research, and growth if I am to contribute anything more than a few meager surgeries.
There is so much more to be done. We at the Ward are only butchers and tailors—we are not yet healers. I wish to find the means to isolate the problem in order to eliminate subtractive surgery entirely. One who bears the weight of medical insight upon his conscience knows too well that life is not a consequence of nature but instead its most precious and coveted secret. Nature governs its creations equally; a man can perish as easily as a plant can be destroyed beneath one’s heel.
The Resurrectionist: The Lost Work of Dr. Spencer Black Page 2