John Hunter, the great 18th-century anatomist and surgeon, collected people. Most were unaware they had been collected, forthey were dead and destined â at least in part â to feature in Hunterâs museum. There, the man with the insatiable curiosity about the human body had amassed a prodigious collection of bottles and jars containing anatomical bits and bobs illustrating every human condition. But Hunter also had a collection of people who were alive and well when he met them, and willingto have their portraits painted. There was Omai theTahitian, two Cherokee chiefs, a Chinese mandarin, a Malay woman and this sealskin-clad woman from Labrador-visitors from far-off places exotic enough to pique the interestofLondon society and scientists. ApartfromOmai, the subjects of Hunterâs anthropological paintings have never been identified. But with the discovery of a previously unknown drawing amongthe surgeonâs papers, it is now possibleto puta name to this face.
THE Mary had been at sea for two weeks and there was still no sign of land. That didnât bother George Cartwright: the voyage from Labrador to Ireland often took longer. But his companions, a party of five âEsquimauxâ, were on their first ocean voyage and feared the ship was lost âand they should never see land againâ. Cartwright spread out a map, showed them where they were and promised landfall the following day. With nothing on the horizon but water, they didnât believe him. But the next day they spied the Irish coast and soon they were on their way to London.
Cartwright had gone to Labrador in 1770 to set up a series of trading posts. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he believed the key to success was to build good relations with the local people. Among his new friends was Attuiock, an Inuit priest who had a habit of turning up at dinner time â with his wives. And sometimes his brother â and his wifeâŚ
Advertisement
In October 1772, Cartwright persuaded Attuiock and his family to accompany him on a trip to England. They would learn about English life and ways, and the English would learn about theirs. Boarding the Mary with him were Attuiock, his youngest wife Ickongogue and their little daughter Ickeuna, his brother Tooklavinia and his brotherâs wife Caubvick.
The capital saw a constant trickle of exotic visitors, some captives from far-off lands, some willing visitors crossing oceans as ambassadors for places most English people had never heard of. Some were regarded as savages to be put on display and stared at; others became the talk of the town, mingling with royalty and attracting large crowds wherever they went.
News of the Inuitâs arrival reached London long before they did. By the time they sailed up the Thames, curious crowds had gathered to catch a glimpse of them. It was quite an experience for the Inuit too. As Cartwright wrote in his journal, they were astonished by the number of ships in the river âfor they did not suppose there were so many in the whole worldâ, but not at all impressed by London Bridge, which they took to be a rocky outcrop that spanned the river.
Soon the family was ensconced in a house near what is now Oxford Circus. On Tuesdays and Fridays they were âat homeâ, and visitors crowded into the house and blocked the street with their carriages. The rest of the time, Cartwright took them out and about and introduced them to London society. He took the men to the opera and to the theatre, where they enjoyed the play but enjoyed still more the thunderous applause they received as they entered their box. The Inuit were a sensation. The cream of society queued up to meet them; they dined at the Royal Society; even the king doffed his hat to them. They made a better impression on the city than the city did on them: there were too many houses, too much smoke, too many people â and not enough seals, said Attuiock. And as if that were not bad enough, one afternoon in January 1773 they were invited to dine with John Hunter.
âAre those the bones of Esquimaux whom Mr Hunter has eaten? Are we to be killed? Will he eat us and put our bones there?â
Hunter was famous not just for his skills as an anatomist and surgeon but also as a collector of specimens. He kept a menagerie of exotic beasts at his country house, while his London home was rapidly filling up with boxes of bones and bottles of body parts. Hunter was fascinated by the life, death and diseases of every kind of creature, from the lowliest worm to the races of man. Dinner in the Hunter house was something of an experience. For the Inuit, it was one they could have done without.
During the afternoon Attuiock wandered off. No one thought anything of it until he rushed back âwith such evident marks of terror, that we were all greatly alarmedâ. Had he had an accident? Had one of the servants insulted him? He grabbed Cartwrightâs hand, dragged him across the yard behind the house and into a room at the rear. There stood the object of his terror: a glass case containing a large number of human bones. ââLook there,â says he, with more horror and consternation in his countenance than I had ever beheld in that of man before, âare those the bones of Esquimaux whom Mr Hunter has killed and eaten? Are we to be killed? Will he eat us and put our bones there?'â
When the rest of the diners caught up with them, the other Inuit were as shocked as Attuiock â and the Englishmenâs laughter did nothing to dispel their fear. Ever the diplomat, Cartwright told them âthat those were the bones of our own people, who had been executed for certain crimesâŚand were preserved there that Mr Hunter might better know how to set those of the living, in case any of them should chance to be broken, which often happened in so populous a countryâ.
Given the overcrowded streets, that was probably a good idea, said Attuiock. Even so, he was decidedly nervous until they were safely clear of Hunterâs house. It was fortunate that he hadnât stumbled across the dissection room or run into the men who sometimes appeared at the back door with a weighty corpse-shaped sack. The familyâs fears of being eaten were unfounded, but they did end up in Hunterâs collection.
During recent research in preparation for the reopening of the Hunterian Museum at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, museum staff discovered a previously unknown drawing among Hunterâs papers. The sketch is the only known image of Attuiockâs family, and it seems to solve an old riddle.
Among Hunterâs collection of anthropological portraits is a Labrador woman. There is no record of the sitter, the artist or the date it was painted. For many years, the woman was assumed to be an Inuit called Mecock, who was captured and taken to London in 1767. But research in the 1970s ruled her out and suggested the portrait might be of Attuiockâs wife Ickongogue. The family sketch shows that Ickongogue is not the mystery woman. But there is a second woman in the picture â Caubvick. âBased on comparison with the drawing, I think it is probably Caubvick,â says curator Simon Chaplin.
During her stay in England, Caubvick enchanted her hosts. She was the vivacious one, the smiling young woman who liked nothing better than to dance. For the men, the highlight of their adventure was a stay in the country, where they rode and hunted, but for Caubvick it was the balls.
By spring, though, the whole family was looking forward to going home. Cartwright and his Esquimaux left for Labrador in May. They were still sailing around the English coast when Caubvick fell ill with smallpox.
When Cartwright reached Labrador he brought back only one Inuit â Caubvick. She had recovered, but the rest of her family hadnât been so lucky. Nor were the friends and relations who welcomed her home. During her illness, Cartwright had cut off Caubvickâs hair, which was matted with infectious smallpox scabs. Fearful of what might happen if they took the disease to Labrador, he urged her to throw the locks overboard. Caubvick refused. A year later, a fur trader found the encampment where Attuiockâs tribe had lived. It was empty, except for the bodies of those who had died from smallpox.