_Aug._ 4, 1825.
This, with what follows, will give a tolerably adequate idea of this
singular being, both as to his form and mind.
I have paid two visits to Seurat. His public exhibition takes place in a
room in Pall-mall called the “Chinese Saloon;” its sides are decorated
with Chinese paper; Chinese lanterns are hung from lines crossing from
wall to wall. In front of a large recess, on one side, is a circular
gauze canopy over a platform covered with crimson cloth, raised about
eighteen inches from the floor, and enclosed by a light brass railing;
the recess is enclosed by a light curtain depending from the cornice to
the floor of the platform, and opening in the middle. A slight motion
within intimates that the object of attraction is about to appear; the
curtain opens a little on each side, and Seurat comes forth, as he is
represented in the first engraving, with no other covering than a small
piece of fringed purple silk, supported round the middle by a red band,
with a slit like pocket holes, to allow the hip-bones to pass through on
each side. On the finger of the left hand, next to the middle one, he
wears a plain gold ring. An artist who accompanied me at each visit, for
the purpose of making the drawings here engraved, has well represented
him. The portraits, both front and profile, are better resemblances than
any that exist, and the anatomy of his figure more correct.
It is justly remarked, that “the title of ‘Living Skeleton’ does not
seem exactly to be well applied to this strange production of nature,
and may, perhaps, create some disappointment; because the curiosity, as
it really exists, lies far less in the degree of attenuation which
Seurat’s frame exhibits, than in the fact that, with a frame so reduced,
a human being should be still in possession of most of his functions,
and enjoying a reasonable quantity of health. As regards the exhibition
of bone, for instance, there is not so much as may frequently be found
(in the dead subject) in cases where persons have died of lingering
consumption. The parchment-like aspect attributed to the skin too seems
to have been a little overstated; and, in fact, most medical men who
served in the late war, will recollect instances enough, where men of
five feet eight inches high, dying from dysentery, or intermittent
fever, have weighed considerably less than 78lbs., which is the weight
of Seurat. The real novelty, therefore, should be looked for, not in the
degree to which this man’s body is wasted and exhausted, but in the fact
that such a degree of decay should be compatible with life, and the
possession of some degree of strength and spirits. This decay does not
seem to have operated equally upon all parts of the figure: it shows
most strikingly in the appearance of the neck and trunk; the upper arms,
from the shoulder to the elbow, and the thigh. The upper part of the arm
is not quite destitute of flesh; but so small, that it may be spanned
with ease by a very moderate fore-finger and thumb. The thighs are
wasted very much--little remains upon them beyond the skin. The cap of
the knee, which is large, and protrudes considerably, is of a reddish
colour, unlike the aspect of the flesh or skin in general. The trunk,
from the shoulder to the hip, has the appearance, more than any thing
else, of a large bellows, a mere bag of hoops covered with leather,
through which the pulsation of the heart is distinctly visible. On the
thicker part of the fore-arm there is flesh, white in appearance, though
of a soft and unhealthy character; and the division of the two bones,
the _ulna_ and the _radius_, may be detected by feeling. Upon the calves
of the legs, again, there is some show of substance, and one is larger
than the other. But the most curious circumstance, perhaps, in the man’s
condition is, that while his whole body exhibits these extraordinary
appearances of decay, his face (which is decidedly French, and not
unpleasant,) displays no signs of attenuation whatever, and scarcely any
symptom of disease or weakness.”[226]
It was on the first day of Seurat’s exhibition that I first visited him;
this was on Tuesday, the 9th of August, 1825; a day the present sheet of
the _Every-Day Book_ has not yet reached; I have been anxious to be
before the day and the public, as regards Seurat, and it is therefore,
as to him, anticipated. I was at the “Chinese Saloon” before the doors
were opened, and was the first of the public admitted, followed by my
friend, the artist. Seurat was not quite ready to appear; in the mean
time, another visitor or two arrived, and after examining the canopy,
and other arrangements, my attention was directed to the Chinese
papering of the room, while Seurat had silently opened the curtains that
concealed him, and stood motionless towards the front of the platform,
as he is represented in the engraving. On turning round, I was instantly
rivetted by his amazing emaciation; he seemed another “Lazarus, come
forth” without his grave-clothes, and for a moment I was too
consternated to observe more than his general appearance. My eye, then,
first caught the arm as the most remarkable limb; from the shoulder to
the elbow it is like an ivory German flute somewhat deepened in colour
by age; it is not larger, and the skin is of that hue, and, not having a
trace of muscle, it is as perfect a cylinder as a writing rule. Amazed
by the wasted limbs, I was still more amazed by the extraordinary
depression of the chest. Its indentation is similar to that which an
over-careful mother makes in the pillowed surface of an infant’s bed for
its repose. Nature has here inverted her own order, and turned the
convex inwards, while the nobler organs, obedient to her will, maintain
life by the gentle exercise of their wonted functions in a lower region.
Below the ribs, which are well described in the accounts already given,
the trunk so immediately curves in, that the red band of the
silk-covering, though it is only loosely placed, seems a tourniquet to
constrict the bowels within their prison house, and the hip-bones, being
of their natural size, the waist is like a wasp’s. By this part of the
frame we are reminded of some descriptions of the abstemious arid
Bedouin Arab of the desert, in whom it is said the abdomen seems to
cling to the vertebra. If the integument of the bowels can be called
flesh, it is the only flesh on the body: for it seems to have wholly
shrunk from the limbs; and where the muscles that have not wholly
disappeared remain, they are also shrunk. He wears shoes to keep cold
from his feet, which are not otherwise shaped than those of people who
have been accustomed to wear tight shoes; his instep is good, and by no
means so flat as in the generality of tavern waiters. His legs are not
more ill-shaped than in extremely thin or much wasted persons; the right
leg, which is somewhat larger than the left, is not less than were the
legs of the late Mr. Suett, the comedian. On this point, without a
private knowledge of Mr. Liston, I would publicly appeal to that
gentleman, whom, on my second visit in the afternoon, I saw there,
accompanied by Mr. Jones. Mr. Liston doubtless remembers Suett, and I
think he will never forget Seurat, at whom he looked, “unutterable
things,” as if he had been about to say--“Prodigious!”
Seurat’s head and body convey a sentiment of antithesis. When the sight
is fixed on his face alone, there is nothing there to denote that he
varies from other men. I examined him closely and frequently, felt him
on different parts of the body, and, not speaking his language, put
questions to him through others, which he readily answered. His head has
been shaved, yet a little hair left on the upper part of the neck, shows
it to be black, and he wears a wig of that colour. His strong black
beard is perceptible, although clean shaved. His complexion is
_swarthy_, and his features are good, without the emaciation of which
his body partakes; the cheek-bones are high, and the eyes are dark
brown, approaching to black. They are represented as heavy and dull, and
to denote little mental capacity; but, perhaps, a watchful observer, who
made pertinent inquiries of him in a proper manner, would remark
otherwise. He usually inclines the head forward towards his breast, and
therefore, and because he is elevated above the spectators, his eyes
frequently assume a position wherein he might see, and “descant on his
own deformity.” His features are flexible, and therefore capable of
great animation, and his forehead indicates capacity. Depression of the
eyelid is by no means to be taken as a mark of dulness or inefficient
intellect. One of our poets, I think Churchill, no incompetent judge of
human nature, has a line concerning Genius “lowering on the penthouse of
the eye.” Seurat, on any other than a common-place question, elevates
his head to an ordinary position, answers immediately and with
precision, and discourses rationally and sensibly; more sensibly than
some in the room, who put childish questions about him to the
attendants, and express silly opinions as to his physical and mental
structure and abilities, and call him “a shocking creature.” There is
nothing shocking either in his mind or his face. His countenance has an
air of melancholy, but he expresses no feeling of the kind; it is not,
however, so mournful as the engraving at the head of this article shows.
The artist was timid, and in form and habit the reverse of Seurat; and
as “like will to like,” so through dislike to the life of the subject
before him, he imagined more dolour in Seurat’s face than it has; this
could not be remedied by the engraver without hazarding the likeness,
which is really good. Seurat’s voice is pleasing, deep-toned, and
gentle. Except for the privations to which his conformation constrains
him, he is not an object of pity, and perhaps very little on that
account. We meet many perfectly-formed beings in daily society whose
abject indulgences or abject circumstances in life render them far more
pitiable, and in a moral point of view, some of them are far more
shocking. There is nothing in Seurat to disgust, as far as I could judge
from what I saw or heard of him.
Thou who despisest so debased a fate
As in the pride of wisdom thou may’st call
The much submissive _Seurat_’s low estate,
Look round the world, and see where over all
injurious passions hold mankind in thrall!--
Behold the fraudful arts, the covert strife,
The jarring interests that engross mankind;
The low pursuits, the selfish aims of life;
Studies that weary and contract the mind,
That bring no joy, and leave no peace behind;--
And Death approaching to dissolve the spell!
_Southey’s Tale of Paraguay._
Death is not contemplated by Seurat as near to him, and it is even
probable that his “last event” is far off. The vital organs have
wonderfully conformed themselves to his malformation, and where they are
seated, perform their office uninterruptedly. The quantity of solid
nutriment for the support of his feeble frame never exceeds four ounces
a day. The pulsations of his heart are regular, and it has never
palpitated; at the wrist, they are slow and equally regular. He has
never been ill, nor taken medicine, except once, and then only a small
quantity of manna. His skin is not more dry than the skin of many other
living persons who abstain, as he does, from strong vinous or fermented
liquors, and drink sparingly; it is not branny, but perfectly smooth;
nor is it of a colour unnatural to a being who cannot sustain much
exercise, who exists in health with very little, and therefore does not
require more. The complexion of his body is that of a light Creole, or
perhaps more similar to that of fine old ivory; it must be remembered,
that his natural complexion is swarthy. What has been asserted elsewhere
is perfectly true, that when dressed in padded clothes, he would not in
any position be more remarkable than any other person, except that,
among Englishmen, he would be taken for a foreigner. On the day before
his public exhibition, he walked from the Gothic-hall in the Haymarket,
to the Chinese Saloon in Pall-mall, arm-in-arm with the gentleman who
brought him from France, and was wholly unrecognized and unnoticed.
Until ten years of age, Seurat was as healthy as other children, except
that his chest was depressed, and he was much weaker; until that year,
he used to run about and play, and tumble down from feebleness. From
that age his feebleness increased, and he grew rapidly until he was
fourteen, when he attained his present stature, with further increase of
weakness: he is not weaker now than he was then. His recreation is
reading, and he is passionately fond of listening to music. He cannot
stoop, but he can lift a weight of twelve pounds from a chair: of
course, he displays no feats of any kind, and unless great care is
taken, he may be injured by cold, and the fatigue of the exhibition. Of
this, however, himself and his father, who is with him, and who is a
shrewd, sensible man, seem aware. He remains about ten minutes standing
and walking before the company, and then withdraws between the curtains
to seat himself, from observation in a blanketed arm-chair, till another
company arrives. His limbs are well-proportioned; he is not at all
knock-kneed, nor are his legs any way deformed.
Seurat is “shocking” to those who have never reflected on mortality, and
think him nearer to the grave than themselves. Perhaps he is only so in
appearance. The orderly operation of the vita principle within him for
the last thirteen or fourteen years, may continue to the ordinary
duration of human life. Every one of his spectators is “encompassed in a
_ghostly_ frame,” and exemplifies, as much as Seurat, the scriptural
remark, that “in the midst of life we are in death:” it is not further
from us for not thinking on it, nor is it nearer to us because it is
under our eyes.
[Illustration: ~Seurat’s Positions when exhibiting himself.~]
Seurat’s existence is peculiar to himself; he is unlike any being ever
heard of, and no other like him may ever live. But if he is alone in the
world, and to himself useless, he may not be without his use to others.
His condition, and the privations whereby he holds his tenure of
existence, are eloquent to a mind reflecting on the few real wants of
mankind, and the advantages derivable from abstinent and temperate
habits. Had he been born a little higher in society, his mental
improvement might have advanced with his corporeal incapacity, and
instead of being shown as a phenomenon, he might have flourished as a
sage. No man has been great who has not subdued his passions; real
greatness has insisted on this as essential to happiness, and artificial
greatness shrunk from it. When Paul “reasoned of righteousness,
temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled.” Seurat’s appearance
seems an admonition from the grave to “think on these things.”
[218] Morning Herald.
[219] The Times.
[220] Zoological Anecdotes.
[221] Ibid.
[222] Ibid.
[223] Maitland’s London, edit. 1772, i. 17.
[224] Gent. Mag.
[225] Patrick’s Devot. of Rom. Church.
[226] Times.
~July 27.~
_St. Pantaleon_, A. D. 303. _Sts. Maximian_, _Malchus_, _Martinian_,
_Dionysius_, _John_, _Serapion_, and _Constantine_, the Seven
Sleepers, A. D. 250. _St. Congail_, _St. Luica._