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Review: An Infinity of Things by Frances Larson

The story of pharmaceutical entrepreneur Henry Wellcome's overwhelming collection of objects from across the globe can make for uncomfortable reading
This 1912 watercolour painting by Richard Tennant Cooper shows demons with surgical instruments attacking an unconscious man on an operating table. See more items from Henry Wellcome's collection in our gallery
This 1912 watercolour painting by Richard Tennant Cooper shows demons with surgical instruments attacking an unconscious man on an operating table. See more items from Henry Wellcome’s collection in our gallery
(Image: Wellcome Library)

Gallery: Henry Wellcome’s vast collection

AGAINST doctors’ advice, Charles Darwin personally to his wife during her eighth childbirth in 1850. Kept unconscious throughout, she was duly grateful. Richard Tennant Cooper’s painting of 1912 showing demons wielding surgical instruments and attacking a chloroformed man suggests that others saw early anaesthesia in a less positive light.

Cooper’s painting was part of a series commissioned by the pharmaceutical entrepreneur for his museum of medical history, which opened in 1913. Like other objects there, it was a mixture of the real and the fake. “Part science, part obsession, part research, part entertainment, part benefaction, part self-promotion: Wellcome’s great Historical Medical Museum was always more of a fantasy than a reality,†writes Frances Larson in An Infinity of Things.

Wellcome was born in a Wisconsin log cabin in 1853. By the time he died in 1936, grudgingly admired but unloved, he was a millionaire, knight, and the owner of a grotesquely overwhelming collection of objects from around the globe. Largely uncatalogued in various warehouses in London, virtually none of it was exhibited, despite his dream of building a “complete†museum on the history of illness and health. Today, it is mostly dispersed through the UK’s museums, with a selection on elegant display at the in London.

Accurately billed not as a biography but as “the biography of a collectionâ€, the book is penetratingly honest. In places it reads as a gripping story of a bit of a monster, but Larson is too much the fastidious scholar – and too little the imaginative writer – to sensationalise the material. So the story is muted, along with the iniquity. She notes Wellcome’s “boundless curiosityâ€, which is evident in his collection, but what she documents is his boundless and ruthless acquisitiveness. One chapter is titled “The whole of India should be ransacked†– a quote from Wellcome’s instructions to his collector in India. By the end, one feels rather sickened at the futility of his avarice.

Gallery: Henry Wellcome’s vast collection

An Infinity of Things

Frances Larson

Oxford University Press

Topics: Books and art / History