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Updated: May 16, 2025
He recalled how her hand had trembled and fluttered on his arm when he spoke of the red stain on the water; and how she had declined to shake hands with him when he told her that he had come from the dissecting-room.
Had the miserable usher been treated after this prescription, he might have escaped a cold and rheumatic fever which had nearly consigned him to a country church-yard, in all probability to reappear at the dissecting-room of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. About this time Johnny Pagoda, who had been two years at sea, came to the school to visit his brother and schoolfellows.
He who has seen Rembrandt's painting of the dissecting-room might construct for himself another picture, in which the five grave faces of these patient observers should be bent above the dead and diseased body of their native city. Life is extinct. Nothing is left for science but, scalpel in hand, to lay bare the secret causes of dissolution.
When we come to Alphonse Daudet, time enough has elapsed for realism to evolve into naturalism so-called. Naturalism is realism stark-naked the dissecting-room, and a good deal besides, which Monsieur Zola illustrated well but not wisely.
You go to hospitals and dead-houses, and the horrors that you do there don't affect you. If in some hideous dissecting-room or fetid laboratory you found this man lying on a leaden table with red gutters scooped out in it for the blood to flow through, you would simply look upon him as an admirable subject. You would not turn a hair. You would not believe that you were doing anything wrong.
"Nae jist stan'in' still a'thegither." "That's weel. Ye haena been fa'in' asleep again ower the guddlet carcass o' an auld pauper hae ye?" Alec stared. He had never told any one of his adventure in the dissecting-room. "I saw ye, my man. But I wasna the only ane that saw ye.
When Philip went back to the dissecting-room, he was a few minutes late, since he had forgotten to buy the loose sleeves which they wore to protect their shirts, and he found a number of men already working. His partner had started on the minute and was busy dissecting out cutaneous nerves. Two others were engaged on the second leg, and more were occupied with the arms.
I was not disposed to be surly and I shook hands with him, and he clapped me on the shoulder, still laughing, and declared that it was a piece of wit worthy of the dissecting-room, and that he would jolt his fellows with it. "I am glad you are so much pleased," I remarked. "Why, don't you think it's good, eh? Of course, you do. Well, it's better to part laughing, anyway."
Had that man ever seen such a woman as Charlotte, I wonder a bright creature, all smiles and sunshine, and sweet impulsive tenderness; an angel who can be angelic without being poitri-naire, and whose amiability never degenerates into scrofula? There is an odour of the dissecting-room pervading all my friend Balzac's novels, and I don't think he was capable of painting a fresh, healthy nature.
In fact it may be set down as unsavory, not to say dirty in the extreme. The man that can walk through the east end of this delicious thoroughfare without a constant sensation of sea-sickness, has a stomach that would be true to him in a dissecting-room.
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