We swoon for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle #historyvalentine

My dearest Arthur,

I went to the Museum of London the other week to see their new exhibition all about your detective stories- they even had a little interview clip of you, so good to hear your voice again! But then it was the strangest thing- after you finished speaking about your creation of Sherlock Holmes they cut you off, before you could get to the wonderful things that made you...well you!

My darling as you are, undoubtedly, reading this in the afterlife, you are surely aware how much these 21st century people just adore your stories. Really they are so very popular, on TV and in the cinema - even though I think you'd find these modern Sherlocks a little bit young and funny-looking. But for some bizarre reason they seem to not remember that you were also the world's foremost Spiritualist! A beacon to us all! Come to think of it, there's actually quite a few things people don't seem to remember about you. Your valiant efforts for the country in the Boer War...I mean well in terms of your writing, it was hardly your fault that you were too heavy to enlist. I always did like a man with some meat on his bones.

For all your efforts, people still don't believe in fairies. I mean it's as if they never read your 1921 book The Coming of the Fairies. As if those little girls made those fairies out of paper, preposterous.

You would be pleased to know the Rochester Spiritualist Temple still exists in London, so not all your work is for not. I just find it so unbelievable that people don't remember you could actually speak with the dead!

To add insult to injury, Brits now absolutely love to ski yet do they remember who brought the sport form Scandinavia? No, of course not. Although actually this forgetfulness could be seen as a plus as they also don't seem to remember your failed career in ophthalmology. Never was for you darling.

Well, Arthur, I'll always remember these most lovable attributes about you. Well- I don't have to remember, you can tell me all about it at the next seance.

See you soon xxx

My #HistoricalValentine: Dippy the Dinosaur

I never thought I would be writing you this letter...

There was a time when I thought you would always be there as I walked through the front door, forever present and smiling down on me. But the years have chipped away at our bones and worn through the replacements and I can't be the mount to hold all of your broken pieces together any more, and with that I understand that its time for us to go our separate ways. 

Of course, I can't deny that I am angry with you for the way you have been over the years. The lies, the deception. I know  now that you have not always been a true reflection of yourself, down to the core you are fake.  So many see you and believe you are  true and honest but I know you're not, I know the truth and you're not as dense as you seem. I think with this separation you need to take some time to fix your fragile health, invest some time in seeing a conservator and come back, stronger and happier than ever, maybe even meet some new lovers as you explore the world. 

There are your faults yes but I know that there's more to it, there are powers beyond yours that are making this decision to tear us apart. I think we have both done everything we could and pursued every option available to try to keep this relationship together over the past 35 years, but now nothing can keep you from returning to the stores. Many are shocked and saddened by the sudden decision for you to leave, and I am too. But, I understand this is for real and I want you to know you will always be loved and not forgotten. 

Memories are all we have now and my gosh there are some happy ones, the first time I saw you, the way you have lit up over the years and been the life and soul of the party. This change will be hard and seeing you packed up into crates and dismantled will be heartbreaking but the home you leave will continue to thrive. You're place in the hall will be empty and as the décor and content changes your ghost will remain.  I'll be here watching new and old friends in the place you once occupied  and we'll probably wonder why we hadn't ended the relationship sooner.

I want you to know I wish you all the best. You have a lot of great qualities that will serve you well in the future. Let's try to remember the good times, let go of our present miseries, and have the common sense to move on.

Goodbye and farewell Dippy.

My Modern Valentine: To Katy Perry from Sir Henry Wellcome (1853-1936)

Love struck Wellcome

In order to diversify our #historyvalentine blog series, we thought we would ask recently re-animated historic figure Sir Henry Wellcome (early 20th century collector and pharmaceutical entrepreneur) to write in about a modern woman he fancies. This is what we received:

Dear Katy, 

I wonder if I might trouble you to be my Valentine? I am not a man to waste time, nor to prevaricate, and I therefore expect you to arrive on the next Aeroplane to arrive at the London Heathrow Airport. I will send a car for you, emblazoned with the manly Wellcome Unicorn.  

For your reference, very manly

I realise this must feel like an incredible honour to you: To be selected as the new wife of a reanimated pharmaceutical philanthropist is a dream of many young women, and you have probably never dared to hope that it might become a reality. I would ask you not to dwell on the fact for too long, as I can't bear a woman with an inflated sense of her own importance. 

The moment I saw you I knew that you were right for me. Like you I had a strongly conservative Christian upbringing, and eventually escaped it into a world where I am surrounded by pharmaceuticals. Like you I initially worked with a number of business partners who did not make my vision sufficiently central to the shared endeavour, but who I later shedded as I moved into the most successful stage of my career. The mangy cur Silas Burroughs was in many ways my Columbia Records - short-sighted, wrong-headed and unable to appreciate genius. 

The object of Henry's
(fairly sexist) affections

I have also selected you because unlike my first wife Syrie you appreciate the value of international travel, in my case to find artefacts and in yours to practice your art. I very much look forward to accompanying you on ventures such as VH1 Divas Support the Troops, where I hope to acquire many objects from the fascinating cultures within which the USA currently wages war. I regret the decision of the Trustees of my Foundation to surrender so much Mid-Eastern material to the British Museum, but will soon replenish it from Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya and the like. 

Unlike Syrie you already appreciate the folly of shacking-up with an "artistic" man (how I curse the usurper Maugham!) and are clearly now looking for someone more traditional, more conservative and more manly than the man/woman/orang-utan hybrid known as Russell Brand. 

I look forward to your telegraphed acceptance, and to us arranging a swift marriage. We will not remain Engagement Fellows (http://www.wellcome.ac.uk/Funding/Public-engagement/Funding-schemes/Engagement-Fellowships/index.htm) for long! 

Yours etc,

Sir Henry S. Wellcome FRS FRCS MCRP*

*=Member of the Council of Re-animated Pharmacists

Follow Henry on Twitter @Henry_Wellcome

My History Valentine: Frederick John Horniman (1835 – 1906) SocialReformer, Tea Endorser and South Londoner.

To my Darling Frederick John Horniman, 

Since our first introduction four years ago I have been struck with one of your many beautiful arrows and my life has changed. From a mere presence to an obsession you have shown me the world through your ethnographic pieces, Victorian curiosity,  love of tea and politics. 

All of this information has been learnt through your presence in history and what I have seen in your collection. I long to view your hand stroke the merman you so desired, the other clasped tightly around your spears whilst ogling the beautiful butterfly named in your honour. But you have been gone since 1906. 

My great love for you is fueled by your drive, to think that your enthusiasm to collect and subsequent philanthropy were all down to Tea. My love for the magical substance is as strong as those freshly packaged leaves, but I would give India's supply up to be your cup of tea. 




Your drive to collect may not have been as strangely obsessive as Henry Wellcome's, but your interests were specific to ethnography, India and natural history unlike that American who collected anything 'medical.' Your selection of ethnographic objects brought the world to Forest Hill, anthropologists out of their armchairs and south Londoners to an awesome museum they can call their own.

 I love to read about how your collection swallowed your home, filling all of the gaps. Your wife Rebecca's ultimatium,  (her or the collection!) disgusted me. I would have relished in the expansion of your curiosities,  prancing about the house dusting the beautiful objects and hopefully admiring your handsomeness.

Your passion as a social reformer, a man of politics and power drives me wild. I love a man who knows what he wants and will give it all up for the sake of the public, when I heard you had donated your collection to the London County Council in 1901 my heart flutted like the Papollo Horniman. 

I can continue to praise you but will you ever love me back? I would and will continue to love you more than you loved your collection and wife combined. I know your standards are high, I heard whispers that you thought your own daughter to be so ugly that she couldn't be painted, so could my beauty match that of your ethnographic masks?

 I only hope we can meet one day, and I can find out if your name reflects your personality.

Yours forever, 

Terri 

My History Valentine: John Hunter (1728-1793), surgeon, anatomist,badass

Dearest John,

It is difficult for me to write down these words, even though I know the fact you have been dead since 1793 will impede your ability to read them. At this time of the year when we celebrate love, I find myself sadly underwhelmed by the modern men around me. I know romance probably wasn’t your forte in life, but maybe in death you will be more sympathetic to my love.

Just look at him thinking about how many bodies he could
have cut up in the time it took to sit for his portrait.

I only wish I could have met you. I know you probably never thought yourself much of a romantic with your difficulty speaking to others, your crazy eyebrows, your short neck, or the fact that you probably have syphilis, but I still feel drawn to you. In fact if we ever had met, maybe in the dissecting room... well you probably would have just shouted at me to get out because I am a woman and also because you are famously very rude. But it is that fervor and your unwavering honesty that make you so special to me.

In a world where most men I know spend hours playing video games, you were up by five am in the dissecting room, working through the day teaching or with patients. You questioned where others accepted. Your innovations in dentistry, transplantation and the treatment of gunshot wounds are legendary. In fact, I think we can safely argue you, my love, one handedly revolutionised surgery and undoubtably have saved millions of lives, even if you didn’t quite get that whole antiseptic thing. The fact that even modern surgeons don’t know who you are makes me weep. Ignorant sots.

When I think back on your life, there are so many things I love about you. Say it’s right or wrong, but I found your whole grave robbing phase so sexy. Your habit of riding asian buffalos into town is nothing short of pimpin’. And I’ll never forget your testimony at the murder trial of John Donellan. When lesser men were quick to accuse him of poison just because they needed someone to blame, you never backed down from your faultless examination of the forensic evidence. Sure they may have condemned him for the murder of his brother in law, but your badass-ness cannot be denied.

My darling you remain one of histories great enigmas: brilliant surgeon, body snatcher, naturalist, military man, Scot, industrious anatomist, really crappy teacher, and fairly unethical experimenter on non-consenting patients. I forgive you your faults because your brilliant mind makes me hot. Although we can never meet, at least I can still be amongst your collection at the Hunterian Museum in London (not that one in Glasgow, you are way cooler than your brother).

Let’s maybe let this love between us stay an intellectual one, that whole you giving yourself syphilis thing is still a bit of a deal breaker.

With all my love for Valentine’s day,

Kristin

If you also want to fall in love with John Hunter, I’d recommend reading Wendy Moore’s 'The Knife Man: Blood, Body-Snatching and the Birth of Modern Surgery'

Or to learn more about poisoning and early forensic science, you could try Elizabeth Cooke’s ‘The Damnation of John Donellan: A mysterious case of death and scandal in Georgian England’