In the account which De Quincey gives of the highwayman's skeleton,
which figured in the museum of the distinguished surgeon, Mr. White, in
his chapter in the 'Autobiographic Sketches' headed 'The Manchester
Grammar School,' he was evidently restrained from inserting one passage,
which we have found among his papers, from considerations of delicacy
towards persons who might then still be living. But as he has there
plainly given the names of the leading persons concerned--the famous
Surgeon Cruikshank,[41] there can at this time of day be little risk of
offending or hurting anyone by presenting the passage, which the curious
student of the Autobiography can insert at the proper point, and may
feel that its presence adds to the completeness of the impression,
half-humorous, half-_eerie_, which De Quincey was fain to produce by
that somewhat grim episode. Here is the passage:
It was a regular and respectable branch of public industry which was
carried on by the highwaymen of England, and all the parties to it moved
upon decent motives and by considerate methods. In particular, the
robbers themselves, as the leading parties, could not be other than
first-rate men, as regarded courage, animal vigour, and perfect
horsemanship. Starting from any lower standard than this, not only had
they no chance of continued success--their failure was certain as
regarded the contest with the traveller, but also their failure was
equally certain as regarded the competition within their own body. The
candidates for a lucrative section of the road were sure to become
troublesome in proportion as all administration of the business upon
that part of the line was feebly or indiscreetly worked. Hence it arose
that individually the chief highwaymen were sure to command a deep
professional interest amongst the surgeons of the land. Sometimes it
happened that a first-rate robber was arrested and brought to trial, but
from defective evidence escaped. Meanwhile his fine person had been
locally advertised and brought under the notice of the medical body.
This had occurred in a more eminent degree than was usual to the robber
who had owned when living the matchless skeleton possessed by Mr. White.
He had been most extensively surveyed with anatomical eyes by the whole
body of the medical profession in London: their deliberate judgment upon
him was that a more absolutely magnificent figure of a man did not exist
in England than this highwayman, and naturally therefore very high sums
were offered to him as soon as his condemnation was certain. The robber,
whose name I entirely forget, finally closed with the offer of
Cruikshank, who was at that time the most eminent surgeon in London.
Those days, as is well known, were days of great irregularity in all
that concerned the management of prisons and the administration of
criminal justice. Consequently there is no reason for surprise or for
doubt in the statement made by Mr. White, that Cruikshank, whose pupil
Mr. White then was, received some special indulgences from one of the
under-sheriffs beyond what the law would strictly have warranted. The
robber was cut down considerably within the appointed time, was
instantly placed in a chaise-and-four, and was thus brought so
prematurely into the private rooms of Cruikshank, that life was not as
yet entirely extinct. This I heard Mr. White repeatedly assert. He was
himself at that time amongst the pupils of Cruikshank, and three or four
of the most favoured amongst these were present, and to one of them
Cruikshank observed quietly: 'I think the subject is not quite dead;
pray put your knife in (Mr. X. Y.) at this point.' That was done; a
solemn _finis_ was placed to the labours of the robber, and perhaps a
solemn inauguration to the labours of the student. A cast was taken from
the superb figure of the highwayman; he was then dissected, his skeleton
became the property of Cruikshank, and subsequently of Mr. White. We
were all called upon to admire the fine proportions of the man, and of
course in that hollow and unmeaning way which such unlearned expressors
of judgment usually assume, we all obsequiously met the demand levied
upon our admiration. But, for my part, though readily confiding in the
professional judgment of anatomists, I could not but feel that through
my own unassisted judgment I never could have arrived at such a
conclusion. The unlearned eye has gathered no rudimental points to begin
with. Not having what are the normal outlines to which the finest
proportions tend, an eye so untutored cannot of course judge in what
degree the given subject approaches to these.