Back in March of this year, I began my Health of Historical Figures series, and although I had many ideas for more posts, I had to abandon the series until now. (2022 has been ...Alot!) I wanted the next Health of Historical Figures post to focus on the amazing Frances 'Fanny' Burney.
* Parts of this post are very harrowing to read. I would
highly recommend not reading any further if breast cancer or descriptions of graphic surgery may be
triggering for you.
Fanny Burney by Edward Francisco Burney, oil on canvas, circa 1785. © National Portrait Gallery, London
Frances ‘Fanny’ d'Arblay, nee Burney, was born in Norfolk in
1752. Not only was she a novelist, diarist, play writer, biographer and ‘second
keeper of the robes’ to Queen Charlotte, but she is now an invaluable source for
those of us studying the 18th and early 19th centuries, due to her extensive surviving letters and journals.
Frances wrote a letter to her sister, Esther, which gives us an extremely
detailed description of an early 19th century mastectomy, not just
the horrific surgery itself, but also how she felt, what she saw, heard and how
those around her behaved. One can only imagine having this surgery without an anaesthetic.
Ultimately, her terrible experience was worthwhile, she
survived cancer and a mastectomy, and miraculously she didn't succumb to an infection afterwards. Fanny died in 1840, aged 87, she outlived her husband and son.
Apart from a few sentences here and there, I’ve decided to
let Fanny tell you her story in her own words, no one could write a better
version!
In the letter she says: ‘About August, in the year 1810,
I began to by annoyed by a small pain in my breast …’ Fanny’s pains grew
worse ‘the pains became quicker & more violent, & the hardness of
the spot affected encreased. I took, but vainly, my proscription, & every
symtom grew more serious.’ Eventually, when nothing worked, Fanny had to
have surgery. ‘I was formally condemned to an operation by all Three [doctors].
I was as much astonished as disappointed – for the poor breast was no
where discoloured, & not much larger than its healthy neighbour.’ ‘… They received my formal consent, & retired to fix a day.’ Fanny
would not be told the date of her surgery, instead she would be given four hours warning. She
tried her best to keep her spirits high during that distressing time, and she very sensibly made a will before her operation.
Once she received the note summoning her to have the surgery,
she readied herself. However, her surgeon had to delay by a couple of hours ‘This,
indeed, was a dreadful interval. I had no longer any thing to do – I had only
to think – Two Hours thus spent seemed never-ending.’ When Fanny saw the
room that her surgery would be performed in and the number of
bandages, compresses, and sponges that would be needed, it made her feel sick and lose her composure a
little. She calmed herself down by pacing backward and forward. At three o'clock she
was given wine cordial and she summoned her maid and nurses. ‘… but
before I could speak to them, my room, without previous message, was entered by
7 Men in black, Dr Larry, M. Dubois, Dr Moreau, Dr Aumont, Dr Ribe, & a
pupil of Dr Larry, & another of M. Dubois.’ ‘M. Dubois ordered a Bed
stead into the middle of the room. Astonished, I turned to Dr Larry, who had
promised that an Arm Chair would suffice; but he hung his head, & would not
look at me. Two old mattrasses M. Dubois then demanded, & an old Sheet. I
now began to tremble violently, more with distaste & horror of the
preparations even than of the pain. These arranged to his liking, he desired me
to mount the Bed stead. I stood suspended, for a moment, whether I should not
abruptly escape – I looked at the door, the windows – I felt desperate – but it
was only for a moment, my reason then took the command, & my fears &
feelings struggled vainly against it. I called to my maid – she was crying,
& the two Nurses stood, transfixed, at the door.’
Letter from Frances Burney to her sister, Esther, about her mastectomy without anaesthetic, 1812. © Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations
Fanny goes on to describe her ordeal ‘M. Dubois placed me upon the mattrass, & spread a cambric handkerchief upon my face. It was transparent, however, & I saw, through it, that the Bed stead was instantly surrounded by the 7 men & my nurse. I refused to be held; but when, Bright through the cambric, I saw the glitter of polished Steel – I closed my Eyes. I would not trust to convulsive fear the sight of the terrible incision. A silence the most profound ensued, which lasted for some minutes, during which, I imagine, they took their orders by signs, & made their examination – Oh what a horrible suspension! – I did not breathe …’ ‘I saw the hand of M. Dubois held up, while his forefinger first described a straight line from top to bottom of the breast, secondly a Cross, & thirdly a circle; intimating that the Whole was to be taken off. Excited by this idea, I started up, threw off my veil, &, in answer to the demand “Qui me tiendra ce sein?” cried “C’est moi, Monsieur!” & I held My hand under it, & explained the nature of my sufferings, which all sprang from one point, though they darted into every part. I was heard attentively, but in utter silence, & M. Dubois then re-placed me as before, &, as before, spread my veil over my face…’ At this Fanny closed her eyes and prepared herself for the excruciating pain.
‘when the dreadful steel was plunged into the breast –
cutting through veins – arteries – flesh – nerves – I needed no injunctions not
to restrain my cries. I began a scream that lasted unintermittingly during the
whole time of the incision – & I almost marvel that it rings not in my Ears
still! So excruciating was the agony. When the wound was made, & the
instrument was withdrawn, the pain seemed undiminished, for the air that
suddenly rushed into those delicate parts felt like a mass of minute but sharp &
forked poniards, that were tearing the edges of the wound – but when again I
felt the instrument – describing a curve – cutting against the grain, if I may
so say, while the flesh resisted in a manner so forcible as to oppose &
tire the hand of the operator, who was forced to change from the right to the
left – then, indeed, I thought I must have expired. I attempted no more to open
my Eyes, – they felt as if hermetically shut, & so firmly closed, that the
Eyelids seemed indented into the Cheeks. The instrument this second time
withdrawn, I concluded the operation over – Oh no! presently the terrible
cutting was renewed – & worse than ever, to separate the bottom, the
foundation of this dreadful gland from the parts to which it adhered – Again
all description would be baffled – yet again all was not over, – Dr Larry
rested but his own hand, & – Oh Heaven! – I then felt the Knife rackling
against the breast bone – scraping it! – This performed, while I yet remained
in utterly speechless torture, I heard the Voice of Mr Larry, – (all others
guarded a dead silence) in a tone nearly tragic, desire everyone present to pronounce
if he thought the operation complete, or if any thing more remained to be done;
or if they he thought the operation complete. The general voice was Yes, – but
the finger of Mr Dubois – which I literally felt elevated over the wound,
though I saw nothing, & though he touched nothing, so indescribably
sensitive was the spot – pointed to some further requisition – & again
began the scraping! – and, after this, Dr Moreau thought he discerned a peccant
attom – and still, & still, M. Dubois demanded attom after attom. – My
dearest Esther, not for days, not for Weeks, but for Months I could not speak
of this terrible business without nearly again going through it! I could not
think of it with impunity! I was sick, I was disordered by a single question –
even now, 9 months after it is over, I have a headache from going on with the
account! … To conclude, the evil was so profound, the case so delicate, &
the precautions necessary for preventing a return so numerous, that the operation,
including the treatment and the dressing, lasted 20 minutes! A time, for
sufferings so acute, that was hardly supportable – However, I bore it with all
the courage I could exert, & never moved, nor stopt them, nor resisted, nor
remonstrated, nor spoke – except once or twice …’
‘Twice, I believe, I fainted; at least, I have two total chasms
in my memory of this transaction, that impede my tying together what passed.
When all was done, & they lifted me up that I might be put to bed, my
strength was so totally annihilated, that I was obliged to be carried, &
could not even sustain my hands & arms, which hung as if I had been
lifeless; while my face, as the Nurse has told me, was utterly colourless. This
removal made me open my Eyes – & I then saw my good Dr Larry, pale nearly
as myself, his face streaked with blood, & its expression depicting grief,
apprehension, & almost horror.’
Fanny’s Husband, General Alexandre d'Arblay, goes on to write in the same letter ‘ … Thank Heaven! She is now Surprisingly well, & in good spirits, & we hope to have many many still happy days.’ Fanny then tells her sister that she cannot bear to read what she has just written, or keep writing about the subject, so traumatising the operation must have been for her. I can't imagine going through something like this, once again I am incredibly thankful for the advancement in modern medicine.
Hopefully, it won't be another nine months before I write the next post in The Health of Historical Figures series! Psst, I am already researching my next post...
Comments
Post a Comment